My Father the Czar
                             Copyright 1998
                   Library of Congress number: 98-96138
                          by AUTHOR22@aol.com
                          All rights reserved


Chapter Six

Needless to say, neither the Tsarevich nor I were in good shape for
dinner that night. Alex-T's complexion was almost green. His breath
smelled like a combination saloon and garbage can.

Alex's naval aid, Derevenko, had returned from the Admiralty and,
fortunately for us, spotted our drunken condition. He hustled us off
to our separate bedrooms, then told the Czarina that the Tsarevich had
eaten something that did not agree with him and had retired.

As I lay on my bed, fully clothed, I heard Alex throwing up in his
bathroom. That triggered my needs and I rushed down the corridor to
our toilet and emptied myself.

Eventually we had cleansed our digestive systems and settled down to a
deep sleep. Neither of us felt much better the next morning, although
the discomfort had shifted from our stomachs to our heads.

Only Anastasia greeted our appearance at the breakfast table with any
degree of suspicion, but she held her tongue. Olga, Maria and Tatiana
were discussing plans for the ball. Olga had been elected to contact
the Imperial Conservatory of Music to arrange for Stravinsky's
appearance.

Each of the four girls had started her own guest list. The exact
wording which was to be printed on the invitations was another issue.
They were in total agreement that the message should convey the fact
that parents would not be welcome. Finally they agreed that the
invitations should read:

"His Imperial Highness Alexis Nickolaevich Romanov together with the
Grand Duchesses Olga, Maria, Tatiana and Anastasia invite you and one
guest to a dance being held in the grand ballroom of the Alexander
Palace on Saturday, the 17th of September, 1913 at 7:00 PM.

"Please advise Captain Sabanskoi, head of security, of your acceptance
and of the name of your guest at the earliest opportunity."

The next week-and-a-half flashed by me as I immersed myself in my
studies. I discovered that I had a talent for languages. At first
Pyotr Petrov, my Russian tutor, had thought that I was simply
mimicking the Imperial children. In an attempt to "put me in my
place", he assigned me the task of reading aloud two pages from my
text book. I encountered several unfamiliar words, which caused me to
pause. In one instances he pronounced the word for me, in the other I
figured it out for myself. The very next encounter with those words,
and any words derived from them, caused me not to hesitate for even a
moment.

By "playing the game", I soon realized that my progress pleased Petrov
only because it proved that he was a great teacher. He remained very
displeased that he was required to teach a peasant girl.

It was on Saturday morning, a week before the ball, that Alex moved
the Phonograph from the playroom into his bedroom and began playing
Firebird at maximum volume. It was so loud that I almost missed the
insistent buzzing of the toy telephone. "I have punched a series of
holes through the wall behind your wardrobe. Use the saw and cut
through that square. It is only about two feet across so it shouldn't
take you too long. I will tap on the wall when the record is almost at
an end so you can stop cutting until I have the next one playing."

After half-an-hour of sawing, I pushed against the cut section and the
square panel fell into the Tsarevich's bathroom with a thud. Alex
peeked through the opening, then crawled into my room. "Help me push
the wardrobe back into place, then we can fasten it to the wall with
these screws."

With both of us pushing the cabinet, it easily slid into place. Then,
using a white crayon, he made two vertical lines on the wall on either
side, but about a half inch behind the side edges. "If you can see
either line you can't put the screws in."

We repeated the exercise with his cabinet and were pleased by the
quality of our handy work. No one could see that the wardrobes
concealed a passageway between our quarters.

Tatiana's voice followed a knock on my door. "Catherine would you care
to join Olga and me in our room. We are trying to decide what to wear
to the ball. Then we will help you choose your costume. The seamstress
will most likely need to make alterations."

Alex disappeared through the hole, I pushed the cabinet into place and
then admitted the girl.  "Have you chosen anything yet?"

I said, "No."

"Well I have something in mind." She opened the wardrobe and looked
inside. "I see that Nadia has arranged your gowns to make selection
easier. I would think you would like a skirt that would fan out if you
spin. I always liked that pink one." She pointed to one second from
the far right.  After removing it from it's hanger she held it against
me. "Yes, that would be very nice. Don't you agree?" The picture that
formed in my mind substituted me in the pink gown with Katrina as she
spun away from me at the gypsy dance in Perm. The reaction was
instantaneous. U men-ya vstal (I got a hard-on). My skirt was too form
fitting, and I could not hide my erection. I held the gown against me
until I got myself under control.

"Don't you think it is too glamorous I don't want to have to chase
boys away."

Tatiana laughed, "I didn't realize you were that aware of boys. Will
you be competing with me for Piotr Veliky's attentions?"

We walked the short distance to Tatiana's bedroom. She tapped a
perfunctory warning and opened the door, ushering me in.

My jaw fell open as I saw Olga standing completely naked trying to
decide which undergarments she was going to wear. Her breasts were
large and firm. But it was the dark hair of her nest that riveted my
attention. For the second time I sought the protection of my pink
dress to hide my arousal turned, and said, "I will be right back I
forgot the underwear that goes with the gown."

As I latched my door closed, the telephone rang. "What was that all
about."

"My God, I just saw your sister Olga totally naked. Wow, does she have
tits on her."

Alex began to laugh, then roared. Finally he got hold of himself. "So
when do I get to trade places with you and wear the dress?"

"I got so hard that my skirt wouldn't hide it.  Do you have a jock
strap?"

"I think so, let me see what I can find."  The phone went dead and I
began to rummage through bureau drawers for different underwear. I
heard Alex's cabinet being moved so I moved mine. He crawled through
the space holding a gray athletic supporter. After handing it to me
he, sat on my bed and watched as I removed my dress and underwear.
Unexpectedly he stood and began removing his clothing. "Take off the
hair piece, I want to see how much alike we really are."

My petooshock was still rigidly at attention. I was surprised to note
that his was equally hard.

We stood in front of the mirror inspecting our likeness. It was
difficult to see any difference between us, except possibly the way my
hair was cut. It also seemed to me that my penis was a little larger
than his.

A knock on my door interrupted our review. It was Tatiana, "You had
better hurry, the seamstress has arrived."

"I will be right there as soon as I have changed," I replied.

Alex handed me the jock strap and helped me adjust it; then, just to
test it's effectiveness, he pinched the head of my petooshock and
laughed as it pulsed. After I had put on the underpants, he looked
carefully to make certain nothing showed, then helped me with the
gown.

When I replaced the hairpiece Alex whistled, "Dava-Y Trakhnems-ya
(let's fuck) you cute little thing!"

In a girlish voice I replied, "Who would not want to Trakhnems-ya the
future Czar of all the Russias?"

As I walked back to Olga's room I inwardly chuckled to myself, "Who
would have guessed that playing the part of a girl would have such an
advantage." I had not realized that girls were so immodest when in
each others presence.

In the next week Alex and I found more and more occasions to use our
secret passageway. We frequently stripped and inspected each other and
that usually led to mutual drochit (masturbation) sessions.

Several times we switched clothes. The hairpiece fitted him as well as
it did me. When he walked, he had a tendency to strut. He would have
to change that pattern and I would need to practice it. Within a short
time it became obvious that he could easily take my place, while I
could not take his unless I had my hair cut identical to his. Uncle
Gregori would need to arrange for that solution.

Uncle Gregori's "religion" classes were quite interesting once the
girls decided they did not wish to attend. We were taught about the
way to communicate with people. We started with playing the game, but
went far beyond that. He held our attention as he explained the need
for an autocratic government. His discussions on sex and its use as a
tool in leadership held our rapt attention. He talked of role playing
and how "switching" places with other people could help you understand
their passions and their goals. Then there was the fun of Alex and my
switching roles under his guidance.

As the seventeenth of September grew nearer, all of the second floor
had little else on their minds. The servants were busy arranging the
seating and preparing refreshments.

Captain Sabanskoi's people were working with the household staff in
the handling of guests. There had been an increase in the number of
crank messages threatening the Imperial family, so security was tight.
All arrivals would be checked against the guest list twice: Once at
the main gate, then again at the entrance to the ballroom. Both
security posts would be in constant telephone contact assuring that
those who passed through the gates arrived at the ballroom.

Stravinsky had visited to inspect the Parade Rooms and asked if his
friend Nijinksy could attend as a guest, not as a performer. Of course
it was agreed, but Olga insisted that it must be kept a secret.

On Wednesday afternoon a telephone call from the Standart was put
through to the Aide-d-camp's room downstairs and a servant came
looking for the Tsarevich. The call was from Seaman Piotr Veliky and
it was for Alex.

The invitation to the Imperial ball at Alexander Palace had reached
him through his commanding officer and he was at a loss as to what to
do. Alex explained that it was Tatiana who had placed him on the guest
list, but if she had not, he would have. The young seaman did not know
what would be appropriate attire. The only clothing he owned was his
naval uniforms. "He asked how many people would be there." When Alex
assured him it was only family and their dates, he seemed less tense.
But then he read from the invitation "His Imperial Highness Alexis
Nickolaevich Romanov together with the Grand Duchesses Olga, Maria,
Tatiana, and Anastasia invite you and one guest to a dance being held
in the grand ballroom of the Alexander Palace on Saturday, the 17th of
September, 1913 at 7:00 PM."

"Who should I bring as a guest? My Captain? A shipmate?"

"Piotr you do not need to bring a date, I suspect Tatiana expects you
to be her's?" Alex told him.

Again the young seaman seemed to be at a loss for words, but finally
said, "All right then, I will see you on Saturday." He paused for a
long time, then added, "Should I eat before I come?"

"You don't need to, there will be a table of appetizers." Then Alex
laughed and added, "Including lots of caviar...the black kind."

Later in the day Alex announced that he would wear his Navy uniform to
the ball because he did not want Piotr to feel different. The young
seaman's uniform was similar to his own. He turned to me and said,
"Maria had a ball gown that I am certain she has out grown. I will ask
Nadia to try and find it. If it fits, it would be ideal for you and
would mesh with our navy uniforms."

Independent of our plans, Tatiana also had decided that she wanted a
new gown, something that would look splendid alongside a seaman of the
Imperial Navy.

Olga looked on with disdain at her sister's interest in a lowly
enlisted man; her beau was an officer at the Naval Academy. But, as
the week progressed, the attention that was being given to the
Tsarevich, Tatiana, and myself forced her to reconsider.

"Tatiana, there is a photograph in a French magazine of a dress that
might be exactly what you are looking for."  And thus, at the last
minute, an extra seamstress was called in to design an appropriate
gown.

The dress that Mrs. Cherminski found among Maria's archived clothing
was quite beautiful. The skirt was flared out from the hips in an old
fashioned way. The fabric was alternate panels of blue-white and light
blue silk. The bodice matched the light blue of the skirt and sported
a sailor's collar. A light sprinkling of sequins had been sewn onto
both the skirt and the collar. An undergarment went with the dress
which caused the skirt to whirl up at the least provocation. I could
imagine how my Katrina would have looked if she had been wearing it
when she taught me to dance.

By contrast, the garment that was being created for Tatiana was the
latest Paris fashion. It was tailored along the lines of a man's suit;
narrow and trim. The top was white with blue trim which matched the
blue bottom. The sides were split so that the wearer could freely move
about. The magazine said that it was an all around garment suitable
for cocktails or dancing. With few design changes, Tatian's dress
would blend in with the navy motif Piotr Veliky had unknowingly
initiated.

The day of the ball started early. Both the children and the staff
were fully occupied, leaving the Czar and his wife to their own
devices with only the ladies in waiting and the Aide-d-Camp to look
after the affairs of state.

Several times the Czarina had looked in on the activity, but the
expressions of her off-spring strongly suggested that her attention
was unwelcome.

Stravinsky and his friend arrived just as the food was being placed on
the tables. Nijinsky seemed to be starving and attacked the appetizers
so ravenously that the staff risked reprimand and asked him to
refrain.

At six-thirty, limo after limo began arriving, depositing guests at
the grand entrance; by seven the sounds of Stravinsky at the piano
could be heard even at the front gate. Most of the young people were
attired in formal gowns and tuxedos appropriate for an Imperial Ball.
They alighted from their automobiles and were met by a uniformed
officer of the Imperial Guard, then announced to those already in the
dance pavilion. A formal greeting line had been organized by Olga
which included, from back to beginning, Alex, Anastasia, Maria,
Tatiana, with Olga at the head.

Tatiana and Alex began to worry about their special guest when he had
not arrived by seven-thirty.

At eight, one of the security officers approached Alex and said, "My
Tsarevich, someone has come to the main gate with an invitation. What
is odd is that he arrived on the back of a farmer's hay wagon and he
is dressed in the uniform of a seaman in the Imperial Navy. We told
him to go away, but he insists that you personally invited him."

Alex accompanied the officer to the entryway telephone and spoke with
the front gate and asked to speak with the detained guest. It was
Piotr Veliky. It had taken him more than two hours to get to Tsarskoe
Selo; partly on public transportation and partly on foot.

Tatiana and her brother commandeered one of the automobiles which had
discharged its guests and directed the chauffeur to drive them to the
front gate where they intercepted Piotr and deposited him in style at
the grand entrance.

Their arrival was memorable and unique. The lowly seaman was flanked,
on his right, by a much shorter and eloquently uniformed Tsarevich;
and, on the left, by a fashionably dressed fifteen year old girl. In
many ways both her demeanor and attire were more masculine than that
of her escorts.

Oddly, the young sailor did not look out of place.  Even though his
dress uniform was the best he had, it was still rough navy issue.
Then, to set it all off, there was a long, single strand of hay stuck
in his dark brown hair at an abstract angle. The most startling
coincidence of all was that the color of his eyes exactly matched the
emerald green of a broach worn by Tatiana.

Apparently, Stravinsky had delayed the start of the dance until Alex
returned. Within seconds of their entry, a waltz was commenced, but no
one moved to the floor, waiting for the Tsarevich to find a partner.
At first he turned toward his sister, but then must have realized that
Piotr should be her partner.

He looked around the room, and spotted me. With a great show he bowed,
took my hand and led me to the floor; but, the only dancing I knew was
the dance of the gypsies. Stravinsky must have been watching us
because, within a couple of steps, he segued into something akin to
folk music.

The new melody was much appreciated by the audience. Stravinsky was a
young people's musician and the heart of much of his music came from
the steppes.

My body began to bob up and down. Alex took my hand and spun me around
as I imitated my Katrina. My exuberant movement caused the airborne
skirt to whirl out like a large umbrella exposing my underpants. I was
most thankful that I had remembered to wear the athletic supporter as
I had a most powerful erection.

Once I had spun back into Alex's arms, I saw that Piotr Veliky had
also captured the eye of the audience. He attempted to spin Tatiana,
but the narrow hem caused her to lose her balance and she landed on
her buttocks, also showing her underpants.

Everyone roared in laughter and poor Piotr turned redder than when he
had farted in ranks.

Stravinsky again segued back to a waltz as the sailor helped the grand
duchess to her feet. Her affection for the young man showed in her
face as he took her into his arms and they danced.

A look in Alex's eyes told me that something was about to happen.
Nijinksy had come up behind me and asked if he could cut in.

With great assurance, the dancer took me in his arms and held me much
too close, then he whispered in my ear, "When one plays a role, one
must either learn it exactly or alternately assume another and
exaggerate it."

"Huh?" was my eloquent reply.

"If one is a man playing a woman's role, or a woman playing that of a
man, they would be more believable if they played a third role. Then
no one would have a basis for comparison. For me, I would always
choose to move like a dancer. You should practice holding your
buttocks tightly together and always move to a tune playing in your
head. Do you understand mademoiselle?"

The shock of my discovery sent a chill up my spine. He must have
sensed my dilemma and continued. "Do not be concerned, your secret is
safe with me. I doubt if anyone here has the experience of body
movement as do I. Remember, make it a habit of moving with your
buttocks always pulled tightly together like you desperately need to
go to the toilet and then simply move to the rhythm of music."

"The dances of the gypsies are the only ones I know. Can you teach me
the other steps?"

"Of course mademoiselle. Just stay close to me, our bodies pressed
tightly together and no one will know that you are being taught." With
that comment he pulled me even tighter against him and we danced,
erection pushed against erection.

During the next dance, Alex had replaced Piotr with his sister and I
inherited the sailor. Unlike Nijinsky, Piotr left a distance between
us and I needed to remember diligently the new dance steps of the
waltz which I had just been shown. Fortunately, my partner was
clumsier than me so it looked like he was the major problem. "Pull me
closer --just follow my steps --stay close to me --our bodies pressed
tightly together and no one will know that you are being taught," I
repeated the great dancers instructions to my partner; but, I thought
to myself, "Thank God I have lost my Vstavat (hard-on)."

As we danced, he drew me closer. I felt a very warm pressure against
my groin and I realized that Tatiana's new beau had developed a
passion for me. It was then that I used my newly acquired technique of
willpower and forced my mind to ignore the urgency I felt between my
legs, instead dwelling upon the time on our farm when I had dropped a
heavy stone on my foot.

We had moved closer to Alex and Tatiana when the waltz ended. Almost
immediately, Stravinsky started another dance and we switched
partners. Piotr was holding her as tightly as he had me and I could
not help but notice the smile which spread across the girl's face.

"Alex, Nijinsky knows."

"Knows what?"

"That I am a 'he' and not a 'she'."

"How could he possibly know that?"

"He said it was the way I moved and he gave me instructions on how to
avoid detection."

"How?"

"He said that if I hold the cheeks of my ass together like I have to
shit and then always move to some music in my head that I will move
like a dancer instead of a 'he' or a 'she'."

"Oh. Does it work?"

"I have no idea, but I certainly am going to try.  You will also need
to learn if we wish to switch places."

After the next waltz, Stravinsky played only his own spirited folk
compositions including parts of The Rites of Spring.  The Russian folk
music is more intoxicating, more dangerous than vodka, or women, there
is a plaintiveness in its appeal which is almost irresistible. Far
better than words, it expresses the pent-up and stifled desires of
Russian youth. It induces a delicious melancholy which is half
lyrical, half sensuous. It breaks down all reserves of restraint.
Under the powerful influence of Stravinsky's music, the energy level
in the ballroom soared as the dancers bobbed and spun.

Alex was less enthusiastic and I soon found Nijinsky to be my constant
partner.

At one break, Alex whispered in my ear, "What's with Nijinsky? He
doesn't want to let anyone else dance with you and he KNOWS you are a
boy!"

"How about that!" was my somewhat sarcastic reply.

"Are you going to let him do anything if he gets you alone?"

"Just make damn sure he DOESN'T get me alone. --PLEASE!"

Nijinsky was coming toward us. Alex said, "I don't think you have
anything to worry about. Stravinsky has been watching you two like a
hawk watches a hare; and YOU are not the hare."

The music started. "Mademoiselle this is a new dance that I asked Igor
to play just for us." He turned toward the Tsarevich, "With your
permission your Imperial majesty."

I could have kicked Alex in the Ya-y-tsa-a (Testicles) for his reply,
"Certainly Mr. Nijinsky. She is all yours," spoken with an emphasis on
the "all yours."

The balance of the evening was spent in the company of the great
dancer. He concentrated on teaching me as many dance steps as
possible. As the ball came to a close, he whispered in my ear,
"Mademoiselle there is nothing more that I desire than to have you
alone and to make love with you but, alas, that is not to be. I am
here as the guest of Igor and he will not permit it. But with your
permission, I would be honored to give you private instructions at
your convenience."

My reply was less than gracious, "Only if the instructions include the
Tsarevich."

Nijinsky looked from me over to Alex and then back with a quizzical
expression. "Oh? That might prove to be most interesting. I will
contact Pierre Gilliard and make the arrangements."

It was past midnight as the last guest departed. In a rush, the staff
swept into the Parade rooms and cleared away the dishes. Within an
hour, there was no sign that the space had been in use.

I had removed my gown, underwear and hairpiece when the telephone
buzzed. "Move your wardrobe I want to come in." I pushed the cabinet
aside.

Alex crawled through the hole as I put on my bathrobe. "Did you have
as much fun as I did?"

"Probably more," I replied, "Except Nijinsky constantly had a hard-on.
He came right out and said he wanted to fuck me. Well, actually he
said 'make love' to me and I think that is a grownup's way of saying
he wants to dick me."

"Really, he just came right out and said that? What did you say."
"What could I say? What would you have said?"  Alex blushed and
confessed, "I don't know, but I would have been tempted."

"Well YOU may get your chance. Nijinsky has offered to teach me ... Us
to dance. He said he would arrange it with Mr. Gilliard tomorrow. When
I told him the lessons would have to include you, he gave me the
oddest look."

"Oddest? How?"

"Like there was something going on between us."

"Between us? You mean between you and me? Between you and me and he
knows you are a boy?"

I nodded my head, "Yes."

"If Stravinsky hears about this he will really get pissed."

                             + + + + + +

          The rest of the night according to the Tsarevich:

                             + + + + + +

I was awakened by a light knock on my bedroom door at three-thirty in
the morning. My naval aide Derevenko's voice asked, "My Tsarevich, may
I speak with you?"

I unlatched the door and peered out. Accompanying Derevenko were a
captain of the guard and Piotr Veliky. "Seaman Veliky was found
wandering around the grounds."

"When was that?" I asked.

"Just a few minutes ago," replied the captain.

Piotr interrupted, "Your highness I had no way to get back to my ship
and fell asleep in a corner. When I awoke, I realized that I must get
back to my ship even if I had to walk."

I turned to Derevenko, "Can you find a place for him to sleep? If not,
then Captain, would you arrange for a car to drive him back to the
Standart?"

Without waiting for Derevenko's reply, the Captain of the guard
offered, "I will drive him into St. Petersburg myself your highness. I
was going into the city as soon as I got off duty."

"Very well, then. It is done. Now let me go back to sleep."

Sunday morning Mass is a compulsory ritual so breakfast could not be
delayed. I buzzed the telephone several times trying to waken
Catherine but, when this failed to 'rouse any response, I finally
resorted to pounding on the wall. When he finally responded, I told
him he'd better get dressed immediately. He was expected at breakfast
and, shortly thereafter, in church.

The servants told us that the Czar and Czarina had finished breakfast
much earlier. Every one was seated in their customary place. Only
Tatiana looked less than rested. She was also wearing a dress whose
collar ended just below her chin. And although the dress looked nice
on her, it was uncharacteristic. She usually liked dresses that showed
off her lovely neck.

Olga addressed her room mate, "So what were you doing last night, you
did not come to bed until three o'clock?"

Tatiana looked decidedly uncomfortable but replied, "I sat down in a
corner and fell asleep."

I almost laughed out loud. Piotr and Tatiana must have concocted the
story together. I wondered just how far their love making may have
gone. Later I asked Catherine to try and worm the truth out of her.

                             + + + + + +

I am not quite certain when it was that I first noticed the change in
my body, nor am I certain what caused it. It could have been
Catherine's arrival at the Palace but I don't think so, as the change
seemed to me to start about the time that I had met Piotr Veliky. In
the mornings, I would awake with an intense erection which accompanied
my need to urinate. Without even being aware of it, I woke with my
left hand around the shaft alternately squeezing and stroking it, but,
the change was not just physical since I also found myself thinking of
Catherine, or of Piotr, or of Catherine's gypsy girl, or even my
sister Tatiana. As the feelings became more intense, so did the scenes
which I envisioned. Sometimes I was with Catherine, other times I WAS
Catherine enjoying sexual exercises with Alex-P. One memorable vision
was of Nijinsky having his way with Catherine; then in an impossible
mix-up, I would be with Nijinsky as Catherine, or with Tatiana as
myself.

It had been an incredibly cold night and when I woke, I was curled
into a ball. My petooshock was extremely rigid and my bladder was
full. Reluctantly, I left my bed and padded into the toilet. I heard
Catherine's bed squeak, so I rapped on the wall. "Let me in."

Moments later, I heard the other wardrobe being moved to the side and
I pushed mine away also. Catherine was already back in his bed as I
crawled into his room. "Move over, it's cold."  I jumped under his
blankets and snuggled next to him stealing his warmth. "Tell me about
that first night when you enjoyed your gypsy girl."

I closed my eyes while he repeated the tale. My petooshock was pushing
against his bare leg. The vision I had was of me on the hillock with
Katrina, then I opened my eyes. The boy that I had my arms wrapped
around was so much like me that I drew back with a start.

I jumped out of bed and grabbed the hairpiece and said, "Please put
this on and then show me exactly what happened that night."  He
reached for the hairpiece, put it in place and then said, "Get back in
bed, it is too cold out there."  I resumed my position next to him.
His long blonde hair was beautiful. "Now, go ahead. Don't leave out
any of the details."

"Well, I gotta leave some of them out cause I am not equipped like a
girl."

"We will improvise."

He reached for my hand, pulled it under his night shirt and held it
tightly between his legs. "Wiggle your finger.  Naw, that's too dry.
Spit down there and make it wet."  I moved below the blanket and then
came back up. "I think we had both better take off our night shirts."
Moments later, I had the place between his legs very wet and then I
wiggled my fingers as he had asked.  At the same time, he reached for
my chlen (Penis) and began lightly squeezing it. "Put your lips
against mine and kiss me."  I was now lying on my stomach with one leg
over his. His hand rested on the back of my head as our lips met.
Unexpectedly, I felt his tongue rub over my lips and try to push
between them.  I pulled away to breath, then went back to the task,
allowing his tongue to penetrate into my mouth. The hot warmth was
remarkable as our tongues mimicked my hips. Without being prompted, I
moved over on top of him and replaced my wiggling fingers with my
chlen. Then I began moving in and out between his tight legs. As my
hips pounded against him, his breathing grew more rapid and his hands,
which were now firmly on my buttocks, were pulling me into him. I
could not believe the feelings, not just in my chlen, but all over me.

Suddenly I heard a loud knocking coming from my bedroom and the voice
of Deverenko. "My Tsarevich your father wants you downstairs in his
office. Immediately!". I jumped out of Catherine's bed, stuck my head
through the hole and said quite loudly, "I am in the bathroom."

"Do not dally he is not in a good mood."

I heard Catherine's wardrobe cabinet sliding into place as I also
finished moving mine. I jumped into a pair of pants, pulled on a shirt
and rushed out the door. Deverenko was waiting for me.

"Are you feeling all right, you look flushed."

"Nothing is the matter. What does papa want that is so urgent?"

"You need to hear it from him."

I was surprised to see Captain Sabanskoi seated across from papa.
"Close the door Deverenko."

There was a newspaper spread out on the desk. "Alex look at this." He
pointed to a headline. Even upside down I could see that it said,
"Orgy at the Alexander Palace." Then under that, it read, "Imperial
children give an unchaperoned party."

Without turning the paper for me to read, he read it to me. "The Czar
and the Czarina permitted their children to invite unchaperoned guests
to the palace on Saturday, the 17th of September. It was reported that
there were no adults permitted and that the music was provided by Igor
Stravinsky whose compositions have been the subject of much
controversy. Critics claim that he puts far too much emphasis on
youthful passions as might be promoted by gypsies. After the dance,
enlisted men from the Imperial Navy were found wandering around the
palace grounds in the early hours of the morning."

He looked up at me, "I know that most of this story is pure fiction,
yet I am faced with the problem of appearances. What concerns me most
is how the newspaper got this story. Deverenko tells me that he
brought that sailor Veliky and the security duty officer to your room
at three-thirty in the morning and that you told the officer to have a
car take Veliky back to his ship. Is that correct?"  I nodded "yes",
not knowing where this conversation was leading. He continued, "Did
you tell anyone else about this matter?"  I shook my head "no".  "I
have looked at the security log and the duty officer left the palace
grounds with Veliky at four in the morning. I spoke with the Captain
of the Standart and Veliky was logged in at four-thirty. That leaves
only the duty officer who could have told anyone of this matter."

His face flushed red and he spoke firmly to Captain Sabanskoi, "I want
the duty officer transferred."

Sabanskoi came to attention and said, "Yes of course your Imperial
Majesty. Where would you like him transferred to?"

"As far east of the Ural mountains as we have an outpost."

After the others left, papa told me, "That is what comes of
fraternizing with peasants. If you and your sister were not so
involved with this young man, I would have him removed from the naval
service.  But from now on, he will not be permitted on the palace
grounds."

Tatiana was most unhappy with papa's edict and spoke with mama about
it. The Czarina told papa that it would be improper to simply distance
ourselves from Veliky without some explanation. Thus it was decided
that Tatiana and I would join her for lunch onboard the Standart. I
asked if Catherine could come along as well.

Papa telephoned the Petersburgskie Wedomosti (Petersburg News) and
demanded they use more discretion in all domestic political reporting
and threatened to suspend their franchise to publish. While his
reprimand of the newspaper curtailed their inaccurate reporting, it
did not suppress the problem. Handbills were being passed about the
city which, being untraceable, were even more outrageous in what they
suggested was the moral decay of the house of Romanov.

Uncle Gregori dwelt on this subject for three of his religion classes
and warned us that this was not simply a matter of popular gossip, but
it was the spear head of political unrest.

Papa ignored his warnings and, as expected, things got worse. There
were handbills which suggested the foundation of the decay lay at the
feet of the Czar's German born wife. Incongruously, it was at that
time that relations with her cousin Willy, the Kaiser, took a turn for
the worse. The Orthodox church which had always been a strong
political body with ambitions to rule, was reported to feel that the
house of Romanov was not capable of governing. Those rumors were
almost immediately followed by handbills claiming that Uncle Gregori
was the root of the moral decay within the Imperial family.

With all of the turmoil that followed the dance and the newspaper
article, it came as no surprise when Uncle Gregori received a telegram
from the Arch Bishop of St. Petersburg, informing him that there would
be a hearing conducted to put these rumors to rest. Saint Isaac's
Cathedral was the chosen site and that bothered him because the
Czarina had a superstition about that location. A fortune teller had
told her that when construction of the Cathedral was complete, the
house of Romanov would be no more.

The date of the hearing was just two days away. Papa said that the
short time, between notification and the actual hearing, had probably
been chosen intentionally to limit Rasputin's ability to prepare for
his defense.

Lunch on the Standart and the hearing at Saint Isaac's were scheduled
for the same day so none of us would be able to attend with him;
nevertheless, Uncle Gregori decided to stay over night in St.
Petersburg so as to be prepared and refreshed for the meeting.

Since papa was not coming along to our luncheon, mama insisted that we
abandon the use of the Imperial train and, instead, motor the 16 miles
to the Admiralty.

The hearing called by the Arch Bishop was scheduled for one in the
afternoon. Gregori felt self assured even though he was the target of
this bit of political intrigue. He had walked the short mile from his
apartment to the Cathedral. Upon entering, he began to have some
misapprehensions in that no one else had arrived. He sat on the edge
of the platform facing the pews.  Shortly, there entered a misshapen
individual in the garb of the brotherhood. He was bow-legged as though
he were permanently attached to a horse. His right arm was withered.
From the way he sought a seat in the last row, it was obvious that he
also suffered from poor eyesight. Gregori told him, "There will be no
mass here today. The church is conducting a private hearing."

The man stared toward Gregori and said, "I can not hear you. God has
seen fit to reward me with the gift of silence. You must speak up."
"I said there will be no mass. We have a private meeting scheduled
here and it is already past the appointed hour."

The man's stare turned to a glare as he said, "Yes, I have been
summoned to attend."

An overweight monk entered from behind the pulpit and waved at the
misshapen man in the back, then said to no one in particular, "Iliodor
will be here in just a moment."

Gregori replied, "Iliodor? I thought this meeting had been called by
the Patriarch."

The fat one replied, "Yes, but at the request of Prince Yussupov, His
Holiness has appointed Father Iliodor as his representative. I presume
you are Rasputin?"

Gregori knew that the Czar's cousin Prince Yussupov was one of the
fomentors of the political unrest. The fact that Yussupov and Iliodor
had joined forces was news and did not bode well for a fair and just
hearing of this matter.

Silence descended upon the room as the three men furtively watched
each other. Gregori began to wonder what Iliodor had in mind. During
the past months, he had rejected numerous invitations for a private
dinner --remembering what Catherine's reaction had been to the man
when they were in Kazan.

Another stranger entered through the front door and sat in the last
pew, where upon the malformed one loped down the aisle and joined the
fat monk. Everyone was attired in clothing that bespoke the fact that
they were churchmen, except for the stranger who wore a brown business
suit.

When Iliodor finally entered he flashed a smile at Gregori and said,
"Ah Rasputin, I see you have decided to attend. It is good that you
have since the purpose of this hearing is to put to rest these rumors
of your conduct and its affect upon the Czar. In this way, the church
can take a firm position. To assure the accuracy of these hearings, we
have invited a reporter from the St. Petersburg News." Even though
Iliodor's expression was cushioned in pleasantries, Gregori knew that
he had walked into a trap. Iliodor continued, "Father Hermogenes
represents the Arch Bishop as do I." He pointed toward the fat one who
carried a wooden staff bearing a silver crucifix at its top. He then
turned toward the man with the withered arm, "This is Mitya Kolyab.
Like you, he has been called by God and has found his way here during
his pilgrimage." Rasputin stood as though to acknowledge the
introduction. Iliodor continuted, "As an Old Believer, he has
expressed great concern about..."

At that point, Mitya jumped toward Rasputin and began his diatribe
with a few horrible sounds uttered in painful gasps; it was as though
he were shaken by an epileptic attack. As he began to shriek, his
voice changed from an uncanny whisper into the sinister howlings of an
animal. In alarm Rasputin stepped back, almost falling off of the
platform. Finally Mitya's shouting became an unnerving and fear-
inspiring roaring and baying. The repulsive impressions thus created
were enhanced by the insane flailing of his deformed arm. What few
intelligible sounds that did reach the listener's ears left the
impression that he was denouncing Rasputin as being a member of the
Knlysty sect, a womanizer and a defiler of the Imperial Family, who
thus brought great disrepute upon the church. Mewling and spitting
horribly, he approached Rasputin, waving his withered hand and
accusing him of ungodliness and sexual transgressions. With his other
hand, the good one, he began to beat and punch Rasputin, then suddenly
grabbed him by the penis. It appeared that he was attempting to pull
it off. Rasputin, in great pain, bent double in an understandable
effort to shake Mitya free, whereupon the corpulent Hermogenes, also
calling on him to repent, started to belabor him with his staff until
the cross broke off. There was hysteria and violence aplenty in the
air, enabling Rasputin to tear free of Mitya, avoid Hermogenes and
make his escape. Whereupon the whole, solemn, church-sponsored affair
collapsed into a comic and embarrassing scandal.

The reporter who had been promised a story that could be featured on
the front page of his paper left the church with a story that was so
outrageously funny that it could not be printed.

The fact that it was not publishable did not prevent everyone at the
newspaper from hearing about it. The humor of the affair spread from
the newspaper office all across St. Petersburg and of course,
eventually, our security people heard of it, made an investigation and
discussed it with the Czar and his family.

The year 1913 was rapidly coming to an end. The political climate was
hot, the weather was not. Nothing that papa attempted to do seemed to
have any calming effect. Thus, it was decided that we would leave the
Capital and vacation on board the Standart in the Mediterranean.

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