My Father the Czar
Copyright 1998
Library of Congress number: 98-96138
by AUTHOR22@aol.com
All rights reserved
Chapter Fourteen
On the outskirts of St. Petersburg, not far from where the village of
the gypsies had been, there was an establishment that was peculiarly
Russian. It was not a restaurant although it served the best food in
the capital. It was not a bar although its alcohol consumption was
substantial. It was not a club because anyone who wished to partake of
the peculiar atmosphere of "The Embers" could do so by simply stepping
inside its doors and being prepared to pay the bill at the end of the
evening.
The ambience of the establishment was not attained through the use of
decor, nor through musical atmosphere, nor even by the particular
'gifts' of the proprietor himself.
Physically there was nothing particularly unique about the building.
The spaces occupied by Iveren's guests were pleasant. One room, the
largest, was equipped with tables at which customers could relax,
enjoy the best of cuisine and the best of drink within the warmth and
glow of a round fireplace located in the center of the room. The other
room could best be described as a bar, although there was no 'bar' in
evidence. The most distinguishing feature of this smaller room was
that its tables were smaller. There was a small baby grand piano and,
unlike the larger room, this one had a balcony or mezzanine.
The Embers had developed its reputation by being a place where one
could express the depth of one's emotions and exhibit as unique a
personality as one might choose, without fear of chastisement. The
particular ambience to be found at The Embers was an ever-changing,
almost 'organic' condition which resulted from the particular
combination of unique guests gathered there at any given time; ...that
was what made it peculiarly Russian.
Iveren, the proprietor, was a portly man who allowed his guests to
transform his establishment into whatever suited them at the moment.
He oversaw his guests as though they were a brood of adolescent
chickens and he, the mother hen intent on seeing to the needs of her
hatchlings.
The clientele were from all walks of life; politicians, musicians,
peasants and radicals. If Stravinsky or Nijinsky were in St.
Petersburg, The Embers would be where they could be found. The most
significant adjective which could be applied to The Embers would be
the word: "Alive".
Another most peculiar occurrence, which had become a tradition, was
that any guest who seated himself in the large room would be handed a
large menu; a menu so large that its reader could not see the others
at his table. Each menu was also voluminous with descriptions that
whetted the appetite making selection almost impossible; the variety
was just too great and each description, just too tantalizing. After
the guests had spent a good deal of time debating what would be the
most suitable feast for this evening's meal, Iveren would stand beside
the host of the group at that table and utter the following phrase: "I
don't know why you bother to read that, this is what we are serving
today." He would then present, in depth, his suggested culinary
masterpieces.
Another unique thing about Iveren was that he was also a talented
violinist. It was rumored that he had been kidnapped by a band of
gypsies when a baby, and that it was from them that he had inherited
his many talents.
This establishment not only tolerated the unorthodox, it seemed to
encourage that behavior; thus, one should not be surprised to see
among the guests, a lady so outrageously dressed in high fashion that
only the most naive would fail to realize that 'she' was indeed a man.
Neither was it unusual to note among the guests persons whose youthful
and hairless faces did not match their years and whose tuxedos
revealed busoms which could not be strapped down entirely.
Despite the 'bizarre' surroundings, from the moment a guest stepped
through the portals of The Embers, he felt comfortable and secure in a
lively atmosphere into which he was instantly immersed and ensnared.
+ + + + + +
OCTOBER 1914
Alexander Palace
St. Petersburg Russia
by Alex-P
+ + + + + +
August, September and October were three months of such extraordinary
activity that they were, and still are, a blur.
We had returned abruptly and prematurely from our weekend at the
nudist camp in Gdov because Uncle Gregori felt compelled to council
the Czar.
The only two constants during the past three months were: 1. the
continual demands upon the Czar's time; and 2. Alex-T and I
reminiscing about 'what might have been' at Camp Sunshine. For three
months we both had been awakening with boners and for three months we
blamed it on what we had missed sharing with Yars.
On more than one occasion I had asked Uncle Gregori if we might return
to Gdov. His only response was a somewhat lustful leer, saying:
"Willpower Little One, willpower."
On the international scene, it seemed as though the entire world had
been consumed by conflict. The fact that six teenagers could disrupt
the world to this extent struck me as being beyond reason. Even
President Wilson of the United States had sent an emissary to talk
with the Czar.
Austria and Hungary had declared war on Serbia and on us. The French
invaded the tiny province of Alsace. English soldiers were in Ostend,
Calais and Dunkirk.
Okrahana's reports, which were never published in the newspapers, kept
us informed as to our progress on the battle field. These reports were
not good.
For nearly a week Uncle Gregori had tried to see the Czar but had
failed.
Our classes had resumed; but, now all of our tutors seemed constantly
distracted and ill at ease.
Alex-T and myself, as Catherine, were listening to Uncle Gregori hold-
forth on the subject of 'objectivisim' when one of the servants
brought him a note.
It was from Prince Yusupov. The startled look on Gregori's face piqued
our curiosity. He muttered something about wondering 'what that faggot
wanted'. He had not seen, nor heard anything from Prince Yusupov since
that church hearing when Mytia had tried to yank his chlen off.
Seeing that we were curious, and realizing that we had heard his
mutterings, he said: "This will be a good example of 'being
objective'. Regardless of personal feelings, we will do our best to
benefit from this opportunity. Prince Yusupov has invited me to dine
with him at The Embers next Saturday night. I will accept, but I will
take you with me, Catherine, so that you may observe."
Alex-T protested at being left out.
Rasputin admonished him, "Your mother would never allow you to meet
with Yusupov. Never mind that he married your cousin, no one can
ignore his preference for women's clothing."
I turned red in the face; embarrassed to the core. After all, I was a
fourteen year old boy sitting in this classroom dressed as a girl.
"You play the part of a girl, not by choice, but for a good reason.
Yusupov wants to be a woman."
Alex-T snickered, "What do you think Yusupov wants? --I mean besides
sucking on your chlen."
Gregori's face first turned pink, then red, but before it went to
purple he got control of himself. "I don't know. But if he's willing
to pay a high enough price, he could suck on it all night."
Alex-T countered, "And how many rubles must he pay?"
"My price would not be in rubles, my Tsarevich. I would have to gain
much before I would allow that indignity."
"Does that mean," I asked, "...that if the Prince commanded enemy
troops and he would give them over to you in exchange for a night in
your bed, you would do so?"
Without as much as a second's hesitation, he replied: "Of course. Many
lives would be saved and I would fantasize that the lips around my
chlen were those of his wife... not his."
By the next day, the Tsarevich and I had almost forgotten the dinner
invitation at The Embers. Tatiana had been rather long-faced; she was
pinning away for Piotr but he was fully occupied in his first semester
of studies at the academy.
The Standart was still where we had left her in the Black Sea, so an
informal luncheon aboard the Imperial Yacht was not an option.
+ + + + +
Almost in desperation, Tatiana took pen in hand and wrote a lengthy
note on paper which bore the Imperial double eagle. She opened her
heart and allowed her emotions to color her thoughts. She closed the
letter with an invitation that they should meet for dinner on Saturday
night at The Embers.
+ + + + +
In the offices of CNOP
+ + + + +
Mail distribution for the Admiralty was handled within the naval base
itself. Standing orders were that any mail from the Imperial Family
was to be routed through the Chief of Naval Operations. For that
reason, Tatiana's passionate love letter to Cadet Piotr Veliky ended
up on the desk of Adrian, the secretary to CNOP and Captain Sergey
Ivanov, assistant to the Chief of Naval Operations.
Adrian had been unsuccessful in his intended seduction of the new
cadet, so the letter from the Grand Duchess Tatiana Romanov piqued his
curiosity beyond temptation.
Fortunately for Adrian, the Grand Duchess, amid her excited anticipa-
tion, had failed to use her cipher and sealing wax to close her let-
ter; thus, opening it undetectedly required merely the holding of it
above the spout of a steaming samovar.
After examining the contents, he took a pen and underlined "The
Embers".
Adrian knew the place, it was a hot bed of deviant behavior. Its owner
had once been "a friend".
Adrian knew the place; Its owner had once been "a friend" and, what's
more, The Embers was a hot bed of deviant behavior.
He would be willing to wager heavily that Piotr would become greatly
enticed by the Grand Duchess, but would end the evening with aching
testicles; in other words --he wouldn't get any. If that were to be
the case, there might be a way that he, Adrian, could then entice the
boy into his quarters.
With this delicious possibility in mind, Adrien's devious nature took
over; by his crossing out just one word, Tatiana's request became a
command. He then placed the letter in the out-going mail basket and
telephoned his friend Iveren. His request was a simple one: The Embers
should reserve a discrete table, away from prying eyes, and a second
table from which one could surreptitiously view the Grand Duchess and
her lover.
Adrien's final step was to attach to the Grand Duchess' letter a note
written on CNOP stationary which read: "In order that harmony may be
maintained between the Imperial Family and the naval forces, the Chief
of Naval Operations has reserved a table for you at The Embers. A car
will pick you up at your quarters on Saturday night at seventeen-
thirty hours. This office is notifying the Imperial Family of your
acceptance."
+ + + + +
Saturday Morning
+ + + + +
Alex-T had crawled through the secret entrance between his and Alex-
P's bedrooms in the early hours of the morning and cuddled up to the
sleeping boy. Their morning ritual had been resumed immediately upon
returning from Yalta. Their sleeping together was really more a matter
of friendship than one of sexuality; although Sex frequently raised
its demanding head as the two boys woke and noted eachother's early
morning piss-hardon.
This Saturday morning was to be the exception. Uncle Gregori was
expected to arrive for Breakfast with the Imperial Family; he and
Catherine were to spend the weekend at his St. Petersburg apartment.
The servants' wing was immediately adjacent to Alex-P/Catherine's
bedroom, so the two boys were awakened by the activities that began
the day. Alex-T had put a pillow over his head to block out the
sounds. Alex-P shook him by the shoulder, "You'd better go back to
your own bed. I still need to pick out the dress I will wear tonight
and Uncle Gregori is sure to be pounding at my door within a few
minutes."
The Tsarevich responded: "I don't see why I can't go as Catherine and
you can stay home and keep my sisters company."
"Gregori would not allow it. Besides, you must have told me a hundred
times that you dislike your cousin Prince Yusupov."
Alex-T had then returned to his room and Alex-P had just moved the
wardrobe back to its normal position and put the pin in place when he
heard a tap on his door. "Who is it?"
Anastasia's child-like voice penetrated the door. "Can I come in?
Breakfast hasn't started yet."
"In just a few minutes. I need to decide on a dress to wear tonight."
"I could help you choose. I particularly like the short green one, the
one with the white trim."
Alex-P had finally gotten his Chlen to go down and was adjusting the
hair piece, making certain it was not askew and looked natural.
Satisfied, he opened the door and let the little girl in.
"You look funny in your night shirt. It's all wrinkled."
"Well, what do you expect this early in the morning? But, as for the
green dress... I don't think so. Uncle Gregori and I are dining out,
so I should wear something more formal."
"Good heavens Catherine, it's not like you are grown up or anything."
She paused for a moment while fingering the dresses in the wardrobe.
"...But you are probably right. Even Maria and Tatiana are always
trying to look four or five years older than they are."
"Has he arrived yet?" Catherine asked. In response to Anastasia's
questioning look, she added: "...Uncle Gregori. Has he arrived yet?"
"No. But the table is already set."
"Well then you go ahead. I need to change out of my night shirt and
into my traveling clothes."
"Why are you the only one of us who refuses to change when anyone else
is present? Come to think of it, I don't think I have ever seen you
naked."
"And you never will! Now then... off with you! I'll be there in just a
moment or two."
It was closer to half-an-hour when Catherine entered the family
dinning room. Uncle Gregori was seated and already eating a slice of
toast. The Czarina was at the Winter Palace with her husband. Tatiana
had already grabbed a snack and would not be joining them, so
breakfast was served to Alex-T, Catherine and Anastasia. Maria and
Olga had remained in bed. It was too early to get up on a Saturday
morning.
The presence of Anastasia stultified the conversation. Alex-T would
have liked to continue his arguments as to why he should go with Uncle
Gregori, leaving Alex-P as the Tsarevich.
However, Gregori made little reference to the evening's activities
and, as soon as Catherine had finished her breakfast, they left for
town.
It wasn't until later that Alex-T and his sister Tatiana began to talk
about the coming weekend. Not until then did he know about her date
with Piotr.
+ + + + +
The Russian Naval Academy was an interesting institution, somewhere
between a school for the sons of the nobility and a country club.
The vast majority of its students did not earn their rank; it was
conferred upon them by virtue of their family's nobility, --to that
degree its students were snobs. Veliky was an unusual case: however,
there were factors which eased his acceptance and improved his
reputation within the student body. First, it was well known that he
enjoyed the friendship of the Imperial Family and that his father was
somehow associated with the Imperial Hunting Lodge in Poland;
secondly, he did not flaunt his relationship with the Grand Duchess or
the Tsarevich.
At precisely five o'clock in the afternoon, Adrian walked into the
garage of the motor pool of the naval base. The man in charge had
asked favors of the secretary to the Chief of Naval Operations and now
it was --payback time. Under other circumstances the Admiral's car
would not have been available; however, the fact that it was being
used to transport the Czar's daughter made the allocation defensible
should it be found out.
Adrian, dressed in his best white uniform, parked alongside the cadet
barracks that housed Piotr. Quickly he found his way into the lounge
where he spotted his passenger. He waved at the cadet from a distance,
turned and headed back toward the car. Piotr caught up with him as he
reached the door.
Adrian walked around to the driver's door and motioned Piotr to sit up
front with him.
At the main gate of the naval base a guard handed him a form which
recorded the purpose and destination of the offical vehicle's useage.
He wrote "Alexander Palace" in the space for 'first destination' then,
in the passenger space, he wrote "Grand Duchess Tatiana Romanov". In
the next 'destination' space he scribbled two words; the first was
illegible, the second was "restaurant."
The guard quickly scanned the sheet and passed the car through.
"This is the Admiral's car isn't it?" Piotr asked.
"Sure is. I just hope you realize how far out on a limb I went for
you. If you get laid tonight you can thank me for it."
Piotr turned toward Adrian and asked: "Just exactly what did you do?
--and why?"
Adrian made a clean breast of it; told Piotr that it was he who had
sponsored this event in the name of the Admiral. He went on to explain
that the restauranteur was a friend of his and that there would be no
check presented to Piotr for the evening's festivities.
During most of the trip to Tsarskoe Selo, Adrian steered the
conversation to sexual episodes, guiding and prompting the cadet to
brag about his exploits ashore in Hamburg and Lisbon. Whenever Piotr
alluded to a conquest, Adrian prompted him to go into great detail.
Before the car had left the outskirts of the city, Piotr's chlen was
tenting his trousers.
They were stopped at the palace gates. The guards expected to see
either an admiral's flag on the front fenders or the Imperial Double
Eagle. Adrian rolled down the window and passed his trip sheet to the
guard. The man looked at the sheet and started toward the guard shack.
He turned back and looked at the passenger. He recognized Piotr as
being the seaman whom a guard captain had once mistreated and thus was
summarily transferred to Siberia. Awkwardly the soldier saluted the
cadet and passed the limousine through. Then, as an after thought, he
telephoned the palace.
The car swept around the driveway and stopped at the entrance to the
Imperial Family quarters. Tatiana was standing at the bottom of the
steps. Piotr jumped out of the car, opened the rear door, helped his
date into the back seat and then slid in beside her.
The words the girl had written in her letter moved her more than they
had Piotr. As soon as the door closed she threw herself into his arms
and kissed him more passionately than she had ever done before.
Adrian's eyes were glued to the rear view mirror. He was silently
saying to himself. "Keep it going Tatiana, you do the work and I'll
reap the rewards."
In the back seat the two lovers had eyes only for each other. The girl
kissed Piotr with all of the built-up passion that reading romance
novels had taught her. Her right hand rested on his knee, then began
moving slowly upward. Each gentle movement was warmer to her touch and
she found 'life' there. She could feel the pulsations, each of which
drew her fingers higher until they touched the center of his manhood.
Almost as though hypnotized, her hand grasped the shaft causing it to
pulse wildly. Then Piotr's tongue mimicked 'the dance of love' while
envisioning themselves bedded nakedly in a soft, billowy cloud.
Quite suddenly, Adrian turned the car rapidly to the left,
intentionally throwing Piotr on top of Tatiana. This abrupt movement
produced a shock which brought the two would-be lovers out of their
fantasy and allowed some semblance of rationality to return.
Tatiana suddenly realized that she had gone too far. She didn't know
how far she could go with Piotr, but she knew that she had been on the
verge of loosing her own self control.
The two were straightening their clothing as the limousine pulled up
in front of the restaurant.
Adrian quickly stepped out of the car and opened the rear door.
A doorman, dressed in a red military uniform trimmed with gold braid,
stepped forward and led the couple through the main entrance.
Iveren greeted his guests with all of the pomp and ceremony which was
due a member of the Imperial family, then led them to a quiet corner
in the small room.
A waiter immediately joined them, handing each of them one of the
large menus.
Iveren returned to the entry foyer and escorted Adrian up the stairs
to the balcony where he was seated at a table from which he had a
clear view of Piotr and Tatiana. The lighting on the balcony was
almost non-existent. "You will not be seen here, even if they are
looking directly at you."
"Thank you Iveren."
"So tell me, why all of these special arrangements and who is that
beautiful boy?"
Adrian smirked and added, "The Grand Duchess is the bait, I am the
fisherman and the sailor will be my catch."
The host reached down and rubbed his hand up Adrian's leg, squeezing
his penis. "Ahhh... and maybe we can enjoy ourselves as well?"
Activity at the entrance interrupted this tete-a-tete and Iveren
hurried away to greet new guests.
Half-an-hour later Gregori Rasputin and Catherine arrived. Iveren did
not recognize Rasputin. Without his usual long hair and beard, he no
longer looked like the pictures and caricatures which had appeared in
the newspapers.
"We are Prince Yusupov's dinner guests. Has he arrived yet.?"
Iveren looked at his reservation book just in case someone else had
taken the reservation. "No sir. --and I do not have a table reserved
in his name. He comes here frequently. Are you certain that it was to
be for tonight?"
There was the fire of anger in Rasputin's dark eyes, which stopped
Iveren in his tracks. "I beg your pardon sir. You said... 'for
Dinner'?"
Rasputin nodded condescendidly.
Ivern continued, "Very well, I have a suitable table in the dinning
room, please step this way." He led them into the large room. "Do you
know if the Prince will have other guests?"
Rasputin shook his head and replied: "I doubt it. ...And would you
please bring us a bottle of Madeira?"
A waiter bowed and disappeared for a few minutes then reappeared
carrying a silver tray with two glasses and a brown bottle. He placed
a glass before each of his customers, handed the bottle to Rasputin,
who nodded, then proceeded through the remainder of the ritual of
serving the wine.
Alex-P sipped at his glass with the delicacy of a young lady, kind of
squeezed his nose and said: "I don't think this is as good as the
Madeira they serve at Tsarskoe Selo."
Rasputin, who was already half way through his second glass, stopped
in the middle of his gulp, swished the fluid around in his mouth, and
said: "You are right of course, but then The Embers is not the
Alexander Palace." He then swallowed, put the glass back to his lips
and drained it.
They were into their second bottle of Madeira when Prince Yusupov
arrived. Alex-P/Catherine had to use all of his willpower to keep from
laughing out loud. The prince's trousers were black and as tight as a
pair of ballet leotards. His jacket was beaded and as colorful as
might be seen in a troop of dancing gypsies; its design was almost
triangular and distinctively oriental. To enhance that image, the
black hat which he wore was also triangular with little black balls
hanging from the very ends. The image he created suggested a jester
from King Arthur's court.
"Oh! I am so glad you have started without me. My new driver got
lost... the silly thing had never been to the fabulous Embers." He
paused in his gushing, spun on his heels, raised his voice and
screeched, "Iveren take this awful Madeira away and bring us a bottle
of your best --and another of Vodka." Having said that, the prince
slid an empty chair so close to Rasputin that their legs could not
help but touch, then delicately seated himself.
Gregori looked decidedly uncomfortable, but the warmth of the wine had
permeated his body and the prince's perfume was not unpleasant.
"Iveren! Where are our drinks. Rasputin is beautiful. Rasputin needs
more Madeira." He then confined his speech to their table only, laid
his hand on Rasputin's knee and confided: "Their best vodka is beyond
belief. Sip the Madeira and wash it down with the Vodka. Each brings
out the flavor of the other."
As though the world had suddenly come into focus, Yusupov looked at
Catherine, picked up the bottle of Madeira and filled the little
girl's glass 'till it was overflowing. "There my dear, suck on that
for a while." He then addressed Rasputin: "Gregori, why did you bring
your little wifey pooh? I had hoped this would be just the two of us.
Ever since that horrible misunderstanding we had at the Cathedral I
have been trying to apologize to you and get things straight." He
paused and kind of giggled under his breath. "Well..., not exactly
'Straight', ...you understand."
The waiter arrived with another bottle of Madeira and the Vodka and,
while serving the two adults, tactfully did not put a glass for the
Vodka before Catherine.
Iveren arrived. "Oh Yusupov, we have missed your patronage. Your
costume is spectacular, but I really do think you looked better in the
sweeping silver gown you wore last time. Did I hear you correctly,
this is the famous Gregori Rasputin, counselor to the Imperial Court?
He looks nothing like his pictures. Now you two have a pleasant
evening. If there is anything else that I can do for you, you need
only ask your waiter." Iveren turned to the waiter and said: "This
will be your only table. Make certain that the prince has everything
he wants." Iveren then turned and swept away. In reality, the
proprietor had given his orders not so much to use a considerable
amount of diplomacy, as to maintain some degree of order.
Alex-P had begun to play 'the mind game'. He only sipped at the one
glass of Madeira, watched and listened. Gregori was tossing the
Madeira and Vodka down like they were tiny glasses of lemonade, --and
Yusupov was all over his guest.
Alex-P dropped his napkin, bent down to retrieve it and saw that the
prince had his hand halfway between Rasputin's knee and his crotch.
The bulge was a mere fraction of an inch from the princes aggressive
little finger.
Sitting back up, Alex-P adjusted his position and carefully watched
the changing expressions on his mentor's face.
Both bottles were empty. Prince Yusupov beckoned his waiter as though
he were going to ask for more liquor, but the waiter had been keeping
an eye on the alcohol consumption and suggested: "Your highness, might
I suggest an appetizer of smoked sturgeon. It is the finest and should
go very well with what you have been drinking."
Rasputin roared: "No! No food. More Madeira. More of that fine
Madeira."
Yusupov seconded his guest's request and added: "Yes! --and also
another bottle of that Vodka." Then, as if to mollify the waiter he
added: "And yes, bring the sturgeon. I suspect the young lady is
getting hungry."
Dismissing the waiter and ignoring Catherine/Alex-P, he returned his
attention to Rasputin; but this time the prince drew even closer and
his hands were under the table. "Oh my dear, dear friend. You have
such a reputation with the ladies and I hear it from reliable sources
that it is a well deserved reputation." In a much lower voice he
whispered: "Lady Lise says that your chlen is a good twelve inches.
--And that I must see with my own eyes." Then he giggled.
Rasputin's face turned from pink to red and his voice roared: "So! You
want to see my chlen do you?" He stood, slowly unbuttoned the fly of
his trousers, extracted his soft penis and hit the prince's nose with
it. "I can see you would like to have this for your appetizer. Put
your lips around it. Go ahead. I offer it to you." Raising his voice
even further and addressing all of the others in the room, he said:
"See. I offer him my Hui so that he will stop pestering me. Come on
Yusupov see if you can get it erect for me. --Or would you rather that
I up-end you and use you like a woman?"
Quickly all of the waiters in the room formed a barrier, shielding
Yusupov's table from the view of the other customers. Iveren had not
become as successful as he had without being able to foresee this kind
of thing, and be prepared to handle it ...discretely.
The prince rose from his seat in a state of absolute rage and stormed
out of the club, leaving Rasputin and Catherine at the table amid the
ring of waiters.
Iveren arrived immediately, said something to a waiter and moments
later a glass of reddish amber liquid appeared. Addressing Rasputin he
said: "Ahh. I see that you are a true connoisseur of a fine Madeira,
let us toast to your pallet".
Rasputin accepted the glass and downed it with a deep sigh of
appreciation; yet he stood there, still surrounded by the restaurant
staff, his still-limp but considerable penis displayed for all to see.
Expectantly, Iveren stood before Rasputin and seemed to be waiting for
something; but soon he turned and again whispered to the same waiter.
Moments later a second glass appeared and was offered to Rasputin
which he unceremoniously downed as he had the first.
Then, as Iveren and the staff stood watching, as though he had been
hit over the head, Rasputin sank into his seat and fell forward with
his face buried in his napkin.
One of the waiters said: "He must have the constitution of an
elephant, that first glass alone contained enough knock out drops to
have disabled a horse."
Iveren turned to Catherine and asked: "Where do you live my dear? We
must see that you are returned to your home."
Iveren turned almost white when he heard her reply: "The Alexander
Palace in Tsarskoe Selo."
Iveren instructed his staff to stay as they were for he would be right
back. He climbed the stairs to the balcony and told Adrian what had
transpired and asked if he would take Rasputin and his niece away from
The Embers.
Downstairs, Piotr and Tatiana had overheard the ruckus in the large
room next door, but the Grand Duchess had been unsure as to the
identity of the familiar voice.
Adrian came downstairs, explained the situation and asked for Piotr's
help in getting Rasputin back to his apartment, after which they would
return Catherine and Tatiana to Tsarskoe Selo.
Rasputin's behavior had indeed ruined Piotr's date.
Upon arriving at the table where Rasputin lay unconscious, Tatiana
quickly pulled Catherine to her while Adrian and Piotr dealt with the
sleeping man. As they raised Rasputin from his chair, Adrien quickly
turned so as to block the girls' view of Rasputin's enormous member
which still hung limply from his fly and, under the pretext of
protecting the young women from this improprietous exposure, seemed to
groan slightly as he carefully replaced Rasputin's chlen within his
pants. Piotr's eyes and ears were unconsciously focused on Adrian's
actions. Tatiana and Catherine followed as Adrian and Piotr carried
Rasputin to the Admiral's limo, each silent within their own thoughts
about this incident.
After leaving The Embers, they drove quickly toward downtown St.
Petersburg and Rasputin's apartment. Adrian and Piotr carried the huge
man up stairs and laid him out on his bed while the girls stayed
behind in the limousine.
Piotr sat up front beside Adrian while Catherine and Tatiana remained
in the back. No one spoke during the half-hour drive to Alexander
Palace; each of them still reviewing the effects of the evening's
bizarre events upon their own thoughts and plans.
After depositing the two girls at the family entrance, the two sailors
drove the limo back toward the city.
Adrian began to discuss the evening. Piotr was unhappy. He had not
arranged the date to begin with; yet he still had held hopes of
getting laid but that had not worked out. As far as he was concerned,
this evening had marked the end of his social life, or at least until
he had graduated from the academy.
Eventually Adrian's comic description of the scene between Rasputin
and Prince Yusupov brought a chuckle and a bit of a smile to Piotr.
Then Adrian guided the conversation to more sexual matters as mates
are likely to do. Long before the limo reached the outskirts of the
city, Piotr had a sizable erection.
Adrian reached over and patted Piotr on the knee and smiled. "It looks
to me like you have a problem there that needs taking care of."
"Yeah, I guess you are right." He paused, then gave Adrian a sidewise
glance and said: "Why, are you offering?"
"What's a friend for, if not to help out a friend in need?"
Piotr turned in his seat so that his knee was within inches of the
driver. "Well, I do need a friend. Most of the class ahead of me have
been pulled out of school and are now in the fleet. Could you make
certain that doesn't happen to me? I want to earn my rank by
graduating from the academy."
Adrian rested his hand on Piotr's knee and squeezed; then moved it
slightly in the direction of Piotr's erection. "All of the drafts come
across my desk and you may be assured that, if you and I were lovers,
your name would never stay on it."
Piotr looked Adrian squarely in the face and said: "As long as no one
ever knows, then have at it."
Adrian then added. "No problem, but if I keep your name off the list,
I want to spend one weekend each month with you at a place far away
from the navy. Iveren, the fellow that owns The Embers has a discreet
little hideaway 50 miles north of St. Petersburg."
Piotr unbuttoned the top of this trousers, pulled his chlen free and
said: "Then find a dark place to park. This sure could use your
attention."
The encounter was quick and to the point. Piotr reached his climax
within seconds of Adrian's lips closing around his penis' head. The
emission was copious and the sighs of pleasure almost delirious.
They talked of many different things during the rest of the drive back
to the naval base; none of them sexual, all of them related to the war
and what was happening to Russia on the front lines.
Adrian dropped his passenger at the side entrance of the cadet
quarters, and then returned the limo to the motor pool. Pleased with
his success in seducing Piotr, he walked back to his quarters, took a
quick shower and slipped into bed.
Piotr's mind was ablaze with concerns. Would Adrian uphold his promise
to keep him off of the draft list? Would it be possible to keep this
affair totally private? He suddenly remembered the feelings he had
experienced when the Tsarevitch had once stroked him to explosion. He
thought of the strange twinges which he had felt while watching Adrian
grasp Rasputin's impressive chlen and replace it inside his fly. He
compared his passion while embracing Tatiana in the back seat of the
Limo to the incredible feelings imparted to his cock by Adrian's lips.
He had quickly climaxed because of those incredible feelings. He also
wondered what all these feelings said about who he really was.
As Piotr lay there in his bed, his chlen again became ridged and
throbbed for attention. His hand drifted to his crotch and he began to
stroke himself. Then he stopped, got out of bed, dressed and walked
down the road to the senior enlisted quarters.
He tapped on Adrian's door.
When it opened, he slipped inside, placed his fingers on the buttons
of his fly and said: "No point in letting this go to waste."
+ + + + +
DEATH ON THE FRONT LINES
from the front page of the
Petersburgskie Wedomosti
+ + + + +
"Monday, August 31st, 1914. Over the weekend trains from the front
lines brought home our heroes who had suffered in the battle against
Germany.
"This reporter had not been warned as to the magnitude of the damage
that was done to our brave troops in out attempt to free the people of
East Prussia.
"All of the hospitals in the city have been filled with the wounded.
Overflow of less critical patients has been moved to other government
buildings including the Winter Palace, Peter's Palace, and Pavlovsk
Palace.
"Even though the Czar is in residence at the Winter Palace, the entire
East Wing has been converted into a hospital.
"The medical staff at St. Petersburg General has been re-distributed
to provide adequate patient care in all of the emergency facilities.
"Doctors, nurses and anyone with medical training are asked to contact
St. Petersburg General; your help is desperately needed."
+ + + + +
Olga was sitting at the family table munching on a piece of toast
while reading the paper. She looked up as the housekeeper, Mrs.
Cherminski, entered the room. "Have you seen the papers. Isn't it just
awful. I thought we were pushing the Germans back, but according to
this article more than one hundred thousand of our soldiers have been
killed or wounded."
The woman had a tired expression on her face as she replied: "Yes it
is just horrible. I just received word that two of my nephews have
been killed. They were still in school when they volunteered. Their
officer was from the military academy." She paused and wiped a tear
from her eyes. "I beg your pardon Miss Olga, but they were just boys;
brothers; just starting their life."
"I see from the paper, that the hospital needs help. I wonder if I
might help in some way."
The housekeeper looked up in surprise. Miss Olga was not known for her
compassion for the suffering of others. "You should speak to your
mother about that. Security might be a problem."
"The Wedomosti says they have turned the East Wing of the Winter
Palace into a hospital. Since Mama and Papa are already there I
wouldn't think there would be any security problems."
"Well as I said, Miss Olga, you need to speak with your mother about
that."
Alex-T and Catherine came into the room and sat down in their chairs.
The Tsarevich said: "I'm hungry. Can I have an omelet with bacon and
cheese?"
While the newcomers were eating, Olga continued her comments about
offering to help the wounded. The Tsarevich paused in his eating,
mouth partially full, and said: "Papa asked me if I would like to
accompany him on an inspection trip. He wants to see, first hand, why
we are loosing so many men; but I don't know if I am up to it."
Catherine/Alex-P kicked the Tsarevich under the table and said; "If I
were a boy I would jump at the chance."
Alex-T hesitated as though thinking the matter over, then told
everyone: "Well, on second thought, I suppose it would be something
like our trip to Turkey. I'll talk to papa and see if the opportunity
is still there."
Olga changed the subject. Addressing Catherine she asked: "I haven't
seen your uncle in several weeks. Did he say where he was going, or
how long he would be away? You and Aleksey seem to enjoy his
classes... But I must say the reasons for your interest are beyond
me."
"He returned home to Pokrovskoe. He only came back to St. Petersburg
because he felt your father needed his council; you know, with the war
and all. When he realized he could accomplish very little, he went
back to Pokrovskoe."
Olga turned and spoke directly to Catherine. "You haven't returned to
visit your parents since you first came to us. Don't you miss your
family?"
"Uncle Gregori has told me that my education should be my first
priority, and that God told him that my place was with the Tsarevich."
"Well, I don't know about that. It seems to me that you and Aleksey
are more like boyfriend/girlfriend. I wouldn't be surprised to learn
that you kids are sleeping together."
Mrs. Cherminski, who had just re-entered the room, looked at Olga in
surprise. "Really, you should not joke about things like that. Once
the idea is planted in people's minds it might grow into an ugly
rumor."
+ + + + +
"Rasputin, Rasputin, Rasputin!
The name pounds like surf on a crumbling shore."
+ + + + +
Shortly after the incident at The Embers, Pravda ran the following
article:
"Rasputin, Rasputin, Rasputin; the name pounds like surf on a
crumbling shore, in the food lines, salons, rooming houses
--universally. It is like a refrain. It has become a pall enveloping
all of our world, eclipsing the sun. How can so pitiful a wretch
throw so vast a shadow? It is inexplicable, maddening, incredible.
"This dark peasant from a distant Siberian bog, a creature who had
defecated in the open like an animal when he was a boy; who still
sucks soup from a bowl and eats fish with his fingers; whose body
gives off a powerful and acrid odor; who scarcely can scrawl his name;
who, it is rumored, has the ear and enjoyed the body of the empress;
who, with her, has appointed the mightiest officials of state; who
treats fawning duchesses, countesses, famous actresses and high-
ranking persons worse than servants and maids; who plots a separate
peace with Germany; and who supposedly can see the future has,
inexplicably become the most feared man in the empire.
"He appears as a shaggy figure with a sable coat thrown over peasant
boots and blouse. He has been seen about town, catching cabs, dining
at The Embers, reeling out of the Gypsy houses in Novaya Derevnya
blind drunk in the early hours.
"Do not believe what you read in the official newspapers. By Imperial
edict the censors do their best to hide him. They daubed ink over
newspaper columns with stories that refer to him; the black blotches
they call caviar. Readers know whom the caviar is protecting."
+ + + + +
Secreted within the pages of Pravda were inserts, purported not to
have been added at the newspaper. These crude cartoons could be passed
from hand to hand. They depicted Rasputin emerging from the naked
empress's nipples to tower over Russia, his wild eyes staring from a
black cloud of hair and beard.
Nightclubs and gambling dens in both Moscow and St. Petersburg were
supplied with playing cards on which Rasputin's head replaced the
Czar's on the king of spades. A caricature icon showed him with a
vodka bottle in one hand and the naked Czar cradled like the Christ
child in the other, while the flames of hell licked at his boots and
nude women with angels' wings and black silk stockings flew about his
head.
Catch phrases like: "Dark Powers behind the Throne!" "German influence
at Court!" "The power of Rasputin!" were injected by unknown persons,
and innocently repeated.
"The filthy gossip about the Czar's family has now become the property
of the street," wrote an agent of the Okhrana secret police.
The Czar was livid. He was the absolute power; he was the final
authority. Only in Russia, he thought to himself, could so much
treasonous behavior be tolerated. Yet, the common people, the
peasantry, followed him into battle and went blindly to their death
knowing that it was "for king and country".
With the defeat at Tannenberg, the Duma, which had never been a model
of organization, became engaged in frantic bickering, turmoil and
infighting.
When Russia truly needed solidarity, when autocratic rule could have
been the salvation, it was then that she had neither. The Red
Russians, the White Russians, the government of the Czar, the
individual political ambitions of members of the Duma, the ambition
and ego of the nobility were all a part of a storm of utter
destruction which was rapidly gathering force on the horizon. Russia
had been at war for just two months and she was coming apart at the
seams.
The descriptions of the dead and dying on the battlefields, together
with the photographs and drawings from Tannenberg, did not rally
support for the Czar. People everywhere were openly debating, with
great passion, the rumors about the behavior of the Imperial Family.
Thus it was with great relief that the Czar received a note from
Rasputin which said that he was returning to Western Siberia. He asked
that the Imperial household look after his niece as though she were
their own. "It is the will of God that she becomes a thread in the
fabric of the monarchy!"
The Czar's brother, Mikahil, accompanied by his older brother George,
came to the Winter Palace, purportedly to bring comfort to the injured
in the East Wing; however, they seemed to spend more time in the West
Wing visiting their relatives. Each time they had the ear of their
brother, the Czar, they continued to lobby for military assignments.
Nicholas wanted to lead an army into battle, to inflict pain upon
those who had filled the hospitals of Russia. But it seemed that,
every time he planned such a move, more serious considerations from
all of the war fronts came to bare, requiring his constant attention.
After thoughtful consideration he decided that having his brothers
lead the battles would be almost as good as if he did it himself. It
was the image of the Imperial Family that should be superimposed on
the war.
In a hastily convened conference, he appointed Mikahil to the post of
Imperial General and his brother George as Military Attache to the
court. The fact that no one in the Imperial Family had ever studied
battle tactics somehow did not enter their minds.
Catherine/Alex-P had simply watched, considered and worried about the
obvious. The defeat of the Russian Army in Tannenberg had not come as
a surprise to the fourteen-year-old. That the military leaders would
entrust the fate of their forces to youngsters who were enrolled in
the military academy astonished her. Now it was the Czar's brother
Mikahil who would lead the war and this was beyond belief; he had no
training! What time he had spent in the army had yielded no practical
experience --either with military tactics or as a leader of men since
he had only functioned as a VIP.
For almost two weeks, Alex-T had used the secret passageway into Alex-
P's bedroom. Sex had always been the outcome of their sleeping
together, but now it seemed that their time was spent discussing the
war and debating whether Uncle Gregori's pacifist point of view was
more likely to save the world, or if the Czar's tactics would be the
best. Finally, in mid-October, Alex-T decided that he should discuss
these issues with his father. He had asked his mother if he might
spend the weekend at the Winter Palace. She had agreed.
On Friday morning the Tsarevich and Catherine were playing tennis.
Alex-T had served and the ball went wild. Alex-P/Catherine jumped to
return the ball and accidentally clipped it in such a way that it sped
like a bullet toward the Tsarevich and struck him hard just below the
groin. Instantly the boy collapsed, screeching in great pain. With the
help of Deverenko, they moved him to his bedroom.
The bruise began to swell and the pain increased.
The Czar immediately dropped everything and returned to Alexander
Palace in the company of the Imperial physician.
The swelling and the pain appeared to lessen. Then on Sunday night it
flared up. The Czarina, ignoring the wishes of her husband sent a
telegram to Rasputin:
"My dearest holy father. We miss you terribly. Catherine and my own
Aleksey always ask if I have heard from you. We are desolate when we
are deprived of your company.
"Aleksey had an accident on Friday while playing tennis with
Catherine. The ball hit him very hard and he appears to be bleeding
internally. The doctors are considering lancing, but that is very
risky. Dearest man, dearest lover of my soul, please tell me what we
should do."
Rasputin's reply read: "Do nothing, my dearest one. I am praying and
god has promised me that Aleksey will recover. Keep him in bed for at
least ten days and do nothing to excite him."
The front pages of Pravda screamed: "The Czarina calls Rasputin her
dearest man, her dearest lover. She is desolate without him. And we
wonder WHY we are loosing the war. She is German. Our enemy is her
cousin. We are led by traitors to the cause of the people. Abolish the
monarchy and return the power to the people."
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