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


Chapter Two

I was born in December of 1903 in a small village on the eastern
slopes of the Ural mountains. Our village, a village of serf-like
peasants, was tied to the land by both tradition and by law. My
brothers and I tend goats, as did my father, and his father before
him. As far back as I can remember, my parents had told stories about
a charismatic pilgrim that had visited the village. His description
was almost frightening: a big man with long black hair, thick beard,
and fiery gray eyes that could look into your soul. He had the power
to heal. It was also said that God let him see into the future. He had
been born in the village of Pokrovskoe in Western Siberia, 200 miles
east of our village.

On the night of his birth a great meteor flashed across the sky,
heralding his arrival.

I was nine when a rumor spread across our village like wildfire: the
man was returning in search of a boy to help him in his work. Should
he find the right boy he would purchase him from the village elders
and they would travel across Russia doing God's work.

Most of my friends, especially the older ones, were very excited about
the possibility of becoming the chosen one. Even my two older brothers
began to try my father's patience, cajoling him to seek an audience
with the holy man.

When the day arrived, we were astounded that the man did not call a
meeting in the square, but instead visited each field. My brothers had
ordered me to tend the herd higher on the slopes, which put them in a
better position to be seen. I was, therefore, delighted when I saw the
great man climb the rocky hillside to seek me out.

He looked at me quietly for a long time, then walked back down and
examined my brothers very closely, even lifting their shirts, and
having them take different stances. After many minutes he turned and
came back to me. As with my brothers, he inspected me very carefully,
and asked me to recite several phrases. He bid me come closer, then
knelt on the ground and hugged me to him, saying, "God has been good
to us. It is you that has been chosen."

Two days later I rode behind him on horseback higher into the Urals,
through a pass and down the western slopes. He told me to call him
Uncle Gregori, and that we were to live with the Czar.

Everything was happening so fast that I understood little of what he
said, until he told me I must pretend to be a girl--his niece! Even at
nine that idea did not sit well with me. Yet my head was swirling from
the excitement, the wonder and the fantasy of living in a palace with
the Czar of all of the Russias.

We rode almost continuously, day and night, for about ten days,
resting only long enough to serve the needs of our horse. All during
the first day we climbed a zig-zagging mountain trail. By nightfall it
was very cold. I held on tightly, as much for warmth as for safety.
The moon was full and our path was bright. We reached the crest of the
mountains at noon on the second day.

On the fourth day we were riding along the Siberian Post Road. I
noticed a building in the distance with smoke billowing upward from a
chimney. "What is that, Uncle?" "That is where they turn rock into
copper. They have been doing that for hundreds of years. This place is
called Perm. It sits along the Kama River, and is an important place
in this part of Russia."

We rode still further north. When we came to the great river, we
turned west and continued until we came to a small house centered
within a courtyard. An old woman greeted him as Uncle tied our horse
to a tree, allowing it to drink from a trough at the foot of the tree.
They began to talk excitedly. The dialect was different from my own so
I was able to follow only a small amount of what was said. But,
whatever it was, I seemed to be the center of the conversation.

Gregori bade me to remove my hat, then stroked the length of my hair,
which ended just short of my buttocks. The old woman examined my hair
even more closely. They spoke briefly, and he told me to remove all of
my clothes.

I was not certain that I understood him, so I did not respond. A
sudden clout to my ears made me realize what was expected. Both knelt
in front of me and examined my body from head to toe. They seemed
pleased with what they found. Then I was allowed to dress myself.

They took me into the house and ordered me to remove my shirt and sit
in a chair. With great care the old woman began to cut my hair well
above my ears, taking more interest in what she was removing than what
was still attached to my head. A younger woman came into the room, and
the older one took my harvested locks into another part of the house.

Again, there was a rapid exchange between Uncle Gregori and this new
stranger. With no hesitation whatsoever, she pulled my pants to my
ankles, and I found her examining all of my body. But when she took
hold of my penis I jumped back in shock. No one had ever touched it
before.

She let go, and laughed.

Sternly, Uncle ordered me to drop my arm and be still. He said that
she needed to take measurements for my new clothes. I disregarded his
instructions and kept my hand cupped over my privates. The girl put
her hands all over me, and wrote things on a sheet of paper.

Someone outside of the house shouted, "Is the Starits here?" Gregori
went outside. I could hear them talking. The stranger had tears in his
voice, as though he was pleading for something. I could not tell what
they were talking about. But in the end, I heard Uncle say, "Day after
tomorrow. God has spoken. It will be at noon, day after tomorrow. I
will come to you at that time."

The old woman returned and motioned me into the chair. Then, taking
her scissors again, she trimmed my hair even shorter. They appeared to
have forgotten that I was sitting there, stripped, my body exposed to
everyone's view. Eventually, even I forgot my nakedness, as no one
seemed to take further notice.

The younger woman returned with a girl about my age, size, and height.
She pulled me out of my chair and made me stand next to the child who
giggled, pointed at my exposed penis and said, "Pee-pee."

Immediately I covered myself with my hand and turned away. Uncle
Gregori laughed loudly, and remarked, "You need to know a woman with
both your soul and your body. Only after having sinned can you seek
the forgiveness of God. It is your duty to fuck a girl that wants
you." His burning eyes narrowed upon my naked penis. It seemed that he
was willing me to leap upon the girl and bury myself with eager
abandon.

Minutes seemed to drag by as the girl and I stared at each other.
Eventually he told me I could dress. We were going to sleep for a few
hours and then we would walk through the town. The old woman handed
him a glass of vodka. He quaffed in a single swallow. Then she led us
to a small bedroom in the rear of the house. Uncle Gregori immediately
laid down on the bed, on his back, and said, "Come little one, we must
sleep. Tonight we will see what the city has to offer."

I lay down beside him. Before I could close my eyes I heard him begin
to snore. In the midst of a guttural sound, he seemed to break back
into consciousness and asked, "Little one, have you yet fucked
anyone?"

The guttural snore did not resume, as though he awaited my reply.

I shook my head "no," then said, "Not yet, Uncle."

"Maybe tonight will be the night." Again the guttural snore echoed
softly within the room.

I smiled to myself in wonder of what this night held for me.

I slept fitfully, my mind ricocheting from one fantastic possibility
to the other--the palace, the Czar, playing with a girl's sex ***.
Then the unknowns arose in my mind--pretending that I was a girl . . .
whether or not people would laugh at me if I tried to put my tiny
thing inside of a girl? Who would this girl be? Hopefully, not the one
who had stared and pointed at my pee-pee.

The odor of food cooking brought me back to reality, but Uncle
Gregori's snoring continued. The old woman entered the room. "Gregori,
your supper is on the table. Come." The man stirred, sat up, huffed
and then cleared his throat. "Vodka!"

"It will be on the table. You and the boy must come before the food
grows cold."

As she started through the door, she added, "Stephanie is wearing the
dress, but we will need the boy for the final fitting tomorrow." I was
up and out of the room quickly, while Uncle Gregori was still sitting
on the edge of the bed.

The girl-child was standing on a chair in the corner, wearing a dark
blue dress with a collar that ended halfway between her shoulders and
chin. The skirt ended at her ankles.  The woman who had taken my
measurements was sewing stitches in various places, as the little girl
fidgeted.  No one in our entire village had ever worn anything as
grand as that dress.

Only two plates had been placed at the table, together with a large
serving bowl of vegetables and a platter of sliced cheese.

Our dinner took all of fifteen minutes to eat. The old woman had put
two glasses of vodka on the table. Gregori bade me drink one. I put
the glass to my lips while inhaling. The aromatic fumes rushed in to
my lungs and caused me to gasp. I began to cough repeatedly. "Just sip
it, little one. You need to feel its fire in your blood." Then he
turned to the old woman. "Don't wait up for us. We probably will not
be home before dawn." Uncle Gregori and I then left the house.

We had been walking for about twenty minutes when I first heard gypsy
music. Uncle Gregori's steps began to keep time with the notes, his
body soon taking up the rhythm. "Little one... I must not call you
that any more. Tomorrow you will answer either to Alex or to
Catherine. But tonight you are Alex." A smile spread across his face.
"And tonight you will stay with me --regardless of what we are doing.
Understood?"

I nodded "Yes."

"And you will learn to enjoy vodka. And you will learn about women and
what it takes to make them happy. How old are you, Alex?" "I will be
ten next month, Uncle."

"I was eight when I first had my hand up a girl's skirt, and eight-
and-a-half when I first put my penis in one. Of course nothing came
out, but that isn't the point. It feels good at any age ...but even
that isn't the point... It's the way you make her feel. If you know
what you are doing, you can totally control her. She will do anything
you ask as long as you fuck her when she wants it. A willing servant
is the only kind to have. Look upon your manhood as the key to a
woman's lock. Use it only when there is a reason to do so."

The square was lit with torches of burning oil. On one side was a
troop of gypsies playing music with guitar, accordion, and violin.
Many of the village men were in the arms of gypsy women, spinning them
around as they danced to the heated rhythms.

Uncle Gregori immediately spotted one, took her in his arms, and
circled into the dancing people. His body bounced gracefully as he
twirled his partner away from him, her bright red skirt flaring
outward, her blue bodice contrasting with the dull darkness of his
clothes. They then spun back into full body contact.

I saw him whisper something into her ear and they both glanced my way.
Then their steps took them close to where the musicians played. They
stopped. There was a pretty girl seated in the shadow of the
accordionist. The woman spoke to the girl, who then followed the
couple as they continued to dance back to where I was standing.

"Alex, this is Katrina. She will teach you to dance the gypsy way."

The girl was several years older than I, with dark hair that hung to
her shoulders. And enough years my senior to have full breasts and
flaring hips that were accented by a narrow waist. Her teeth gleamed
as she said, "Dancing is easy. All you need to do is let your body
bounce with the music. Watch what I am doing, and you do the same."
She began by tapping her left foot. I imitated her movements. She bent
her knees and began bobbing up and down in time with the music. Soon
we were both following the cadence, our bodies moving in synchronism.

"Yes, that's it. Now give me your right hand."

While I stood there, my torso moving with hers, our hands joined above
our heads, she did a spin under my raised hand. She stopped moving
while still holding my hand, our bodies still bouncing up and down.
"It's your turn to step back and forth, from side to side."

This was great fun! My smile was a mile wide. Then she suddenly spun
away from me to the limits of our reach, and twirled back, colliding,
so we were in full contact from head to toe. Her arms went around me
and held me as we swayed back and forth. I could feel every curve in
her body. Her breath was hot in my ear. The music stopped and she
pulled away from me. I blushed as I suddenly realized I had an
erection. She pretended not to notice.

"I want something to drink. Come along." She grabbed my hand and
pulled me across the dance floor to where Uncle Gregori and his girl
were seated. "Maria, we are thirsty. May we have some of that?" She
pointed to two glasses sitting on the table.

This time, I sipped the vodka much more carefully, but Katrina seemed
used to the fiery substance and gulped it down. Soon we were back on
the dance floor, dancing, marching, and spinning, until I was dizzy.
We were moving as though a single puppeteer controlled us. It was the
most fun I ever remembered having had.

Then there was more vodka. Then more dancing. It was when we were
dancing in an embrace that I felt her hand move between our bodies and
take hold of my rigid penis. After a few squeezes, her hand moved to
the top of my pants and slid down inside 'til her bare hand was
wrapped around my shaft. I shuddered and then moved closer to her,
making the most of this wonderful contact. My breath was hot on my own
cheek as it bounced off of hers. Again, the music stopped and we
separated.

I looked around for Uncle Gregori. He and Maria had disappeared into a
dark corner. Katrina knew where they were and we sought them out. When
we drew closer, I could see that Maria had her hand inside of Uncle
Gregori's pants. My eyes must have gone wide as Katrina, laughing,
pulled me alongside of them and did unto me what Maria was doing to
Uncle.

Gregori looked over at us and laughed a hearty, lustful laugh. "Alex,
you are learning fast, but, the evening is young. Have more
vodka ...and then, back to the dance floor with you."

Katrina did not let go of me as I sipped at my glass. A lot of what
happened that night was a blur. At some point, Uncle Gregori said, "It
is time."  The four of us found a dark hillock where we proceeded to
remove each others' clothes. Katrina guided my hand between her legs,
and I slid my fingers into her. The warmth astounded me. At the same
time she was moving her own fingers up and down my shaft.

An explosive sigh drew our attention to Maria. She was on her back,
her legs high in the air, with Uncle Gregori between them. His shaft
was moving slowly, in long strokes, which took him from completely
engulfed within her, to completely out. We could thus see that his
instrument was indeed huge.

Katrina shifted so that her legs were in the same position as Maria's,
then guided my little one into her. It was a fantastic sensation! I
tried to follow Uncle's movements, but each time I pulled out, my
little shaft flipped up and Katrina had to guide me back in.

We must have been exercising for close to an hour. I kept getting a
marvelous feeling, like I was going to explode. Then after it peaked
and throbbed, it would start all over again. Katrina asked how many
times I could climax. Gregori answered for me. "He is still dry. He
can do it to you until you have had enough." Katrina, giggled, "How
much do you want to bet?"

We left the girls at daybreak and returned to the house of the old
woman. She was already in the kitchen and asked if we wanted something
to eat. When we declined, she aimed us at the bedroom, but admonished
us, "You cannot sleep all day. We will need the boy to make the final
adjustments to the dress and the hair piece will be ready by mid-
afternoon. Then, if you are to stay on schedule, you will need to
leave here early tomorrow morning."

"I have changed the plan," Gregori advised us. "Many people have asked
for my help here in Perm.

"Tonight Alex and I will again enjoy the company of the gypsies and he
will ride from the city with them tomorrow morning. When I have
completed God's work, I will catch up with them and we will resume our
journey. There are too many eyes to see and too many mouths to speak
in the ears of my enemies."

I was anxious to go to sleep. My head hurt and so did my penis. Yet,
the memory of Katrina and me on the hillock again brought my
instrument to immediate attention. As though he were reading my mind,
Gregori reached for my hand. "Come along, little one. We must rest.
God's work requires all that we have to offer."

At noon the old woman woke me and led me back into the main room. The
little girl was again standing on the chair, wearing the dark blue
dress. The old woman barked, "Take off the dress... The under garments
as well." She turned to me. "Strip. Take yours off too." The younger
woman was helping the little girl out of the dress, while the older
one was watching me disrobe. I felt embarrassed. Finally, I stood
there completely naked, while the little girl stepped out of her
underpants. I couldn't resist pointing at her slit, and saying, "Pee-
pee?"

Both women broke into peals of laughter.

The little girl was still standing on the chair when the women went
off into a back room. I looked at the tiny slit, just inches from my
face. Remembering what it felt like when I put my finger in Katrina, I
rubbed along the narrow slit and then pushed my finger inside. She
giggled and pushed my hand away.

I had expected it to be hot and slippery. It was neither. It felt cold
and dry. I put my hands over my aroused penis just as the women
returned to the room. The little girl was giggling and pointing. "Big
Pee-pee. Big Pee-pee." The old woman pushed my hands away, and saw
that it was very red. "My, my, you were not kind to it last night."
She looked at the girl child and said, "Get that tin of salve from the
cupboard. The one with the blue label."

A moment later the child was back. "Rub the salve onto his pee-pee,"
the old woman said. The little hands scooped out the white creamy
substance and then began to massage it in. The feeling was very good
and my instrument grew even stiffer. Quite suddenly, it pulsed and
twitched like it was attempting to hurl something out into space.

"That's enough now. Just leave it alone until the skin has absorbed
all of the salve.

"Are you hungry, Alex? I will get you something to eat while it dries.
Then you must put on the dress so that we may make the final
alterations." She placed a bowl of hot soup on the table and bade me
eat. The chair was cold on my bare bottom.  The soup was tasty and
filled the void in my stomach.

As I drained the last drop, I was told to put on the undergarments the
little girl had been wearing. I had never worn under clothes, so I
held them, examining them, trying to decide which side was the front.
Neither side had a place for me to use if I had to pee.

The two pieces of undergarments were made of white cotton. The
underpants had legs that stopped just above my knees. The top part
slid over my head and down to just below the waist of the bottoms. The
old woman adjusted both garments, then felt for my penis and began to
massage it. When it was fully erect, she readjusted the pants so that
my aroused state was hidden from view.

"Good. Alex, you must always adjust your under clothing so that your
penis can never be seen." I shook my head, "Yes." "All right. Now step
into the skirt."

The outer garment was also in two parts. She pulled the skirt up until
the bottom was at my ankles. It was held in place by a drawstring at
the waist. It was structured so that it flared out from my hips,
totally hiding my body from the waist down. The top part slipped on
like a jacket and buttoned up the front. "Stand on the chair. We must
make certain that everything is just so."

Uncle Gregori came into the room. His first word was, "Vodka!" The old
woman glared at him. "Can't you see that we are busy? Besides, it is
too early to start that foolishness." The expression on Gregori's face
told everyone that she had overstepped her bounds. "Vodka!" he
shouted. She pointed to a ceramic jug under the sink, and continued to
pull at, and then stitch, parts of the dress.

I must have stood there for two hours. If I moved, I was oft' times
rewarded with the point of a needle in my side or buttocks. My legs
grew tired, and I itched, but I was not allowed to relieve myself. The
young woman came from the back room carrying a long blonde wig. "The
hair piece is finished. Let's see how it looks."

She placed the wig on my head and adjusted it so that it flowed
downward on both sides of my face to just below my shoulders. "Very,
very good," whispered Uncle Gregori. "That will do nicely. Catherine,
come over here."

I didn't react. More sternly and, looking directly into my eyes, he
again commanded, "Catherine, come over here." I jumped down from the
chair and walked over to him.

He began to laugh. "No, no! You must learn to move like a girl." The
old woman said, "You are wrong, Gregori. Ten-year-old children leap
about the same way. The difference in movement begins to show between
thirteen and fifteen. You have plenty of time. But maybe the gypsy
girl can show him."

Gregori responded, "No! He will travel with them as a boy. No one is
to know about Catherine until the time is right and that won't be
until shortly before we reach Kazan. I will carry the hair piece and
the dress with me."

Shortly thereafter, we retired to the bedroom to rest until it was
time to go into town. I instantly fell asleep and was unaware that
Uncle Gregori had joined me on the bed.

The sun had set and the room was dark when I heard the girl child
whisper. "Alex, are you awake?" Her tiny hands reached under my shirt
and began to tickle my stomach. She giggled and moved her hand
downward saying, "Big Pee-pee. Big Pee-pee".

Hearing its name, it leapt to attention. However, my thoughts were not
of the little girl with the cold dry slit, but rather of Katrina and
our playful exercise on the hillock. I pushed the girl's hands away,
got out of bed and walked into the front room. Behind me I heard the
little girl now diverting her attention to Gregori. Her words of "Big
Pee-pee" and the sounds of her touching hands preceded, by only a
moment, the soft guttural words, "No child. Go tell your grandma-ma
that I will be there soon."

As on the previous evening, we ate our supper and drank a glass of
vodka before heading toward the gypsy square.

"Alex, tell me, how did if feel when you put your hands in Katrina."

"It was hot and it made my petooshock very hard." "Did you also enjoy
the way she rubbed it with her bare hand?" "Yes, but not as much as
when I put it in her." "I want you to describe, in great detail,
exactly how that felt."

The memory brought my rod to an instant stiffness and I had to
readjust myself. "When the head started to enter her, it felt like I
was pushing into freshly baked bread full of butter. A really nice,
but still hot place. I think I liked that best. Every time I pulled
all the way out, like you did, it flipped up and she had to guide me
back in. Also, I liked it when I was in as far as I could get and was
pushing harder to get further in."

"I see that you remember it in great detail. That is good. Do you know
what willpower is?" I shook my head and said: "No. What is it?" "You
possess no talent that will be more valuable than willpower. Willpower
is your ability to refuse to let yourself do something you really want
to do. An example would be when you are very hungry and there is food
on the table and you refuse to let yourself eat it. That is willpower!
Do you understand?"

"Yes I understand, but I don't see why it is so important."

The big man reached over and put his arm around my shoulder, pulling
me closer to him as we continued our stroll. "Willpower is like a
muscle. The more you use it, the stronger it gets. If you don't use it
at all it will wither away. Tonight we will have fun with the gypsies.
And tonight you will spend the night with Katrina. And tomorrow you
will travel with them and you will sleep naked with the girl. This
will be your chance to grow strong. This will be your chance to build
your willpower by forcing yourself NOT to enjoy her body. Only you and
she will ever know if you mounted her. Do you understand what I am
asking you to do?"

"But Uncle, being in her feels so good. I don't know if I can refuse
her."

He laughed. "That, young Alex, is just the point. But let me add this.
When I join you three days from now, I will tell you something that
will make the effort worth-while. In that regard, I must ask you to
trust me."

As the evening turned into night, Katrina was more forward and
enticing then she had been the night before. We danced and drank the
vodka. Our bodies had totally merged with the rhythms. The music
combined with our spirits and my entire world narrowed to the point
that there were no others than Katrina and myself.

It was past midnight when I noticed that Uncle Gregori was gone.

The gypsy girl lead me toward the hillock. My penis lurched in
anticipation. As we stood on the plateau, she laid her lips against
mine and pushed her tongue into my startled mouth. "Alex, from now
until your Uncle finds us again, we will sleep together. Just you and
I, nakedly, skin against skin. Your hot poker will never leave my
cave."

"EBATSYA Willpower! Nothing could be as important as being inside of
Katrina," I thought to myself.

We walked a short distance to the gypsy camp and then slipped into the
back of a covered wagon. She undressed. The pale moonlight reflected
off of her breasts. Her smile made my resolve dissolve. I quickly
slipped out of my pants and shirt. We stared at each other for a long
time before finding our way beneath the blankets.

My manhood was rigidly poking into her body. I moved lower until it
was held in place where her legs joined. Quite suddenly unknown words
flashed into my mind, and I repeated them to her. "Your body is like a
fine wine. It should be savored, not devoured. Let us sleep this way
till the morrow comes."

I slept soundly in her arms, but was awakened as the morning sky began
to brighten. Men were moving horses to the front of the wagons.
Katrina's eyes opened and stared into mine as we felt the wheels turn
and the wagon lurched from the field onto the road. Her hand grasped
my already rigid shaft and rubbed it. "Oh! Can I have some of that?" I
wanted to just close my eyes and let her have her way with me, but
Uncle's words came back to prompt me. "Uncle Gregori told me that we
should exercise willpower and not do what we want to." Katrina looked
sadly at me, "Then would it not be best to sleep in separate wagons?"

"No. He said we should sleep nakedly together and force ourselves to
go no further than looking and touching. In doing this we will grow
stronger." Her mood changed and she laughed. "How much do you want to
bet that we will not stay apart?" Katrina pushed the blankets away and
we looked at each other's bare bodies. My manhood was very much at the
ready.

Maria, who was sitting up front, stuck her head into the back,
surveyed the situation, chuckled and said, "Children, you must dress
yourselves. We may be stopped by soldiers and you don't want them to
see you like that." We crossed the river and proceeded west.

There was a police check station at Krasnokamsk, but the guards joked
with Maria and waved us through. This Gypsy band had entertained them
during the past week.

Several times that day, soldiers and policeman rode past us in both
directions, but none stopped us. The road wound its way over hills,
but the slopes were always gentle. At noon we paused by a wayside.
Maria, Katrina and the other gypsy women put together a quick meal
which we then ate as we continued to roll west and south.

Well before sunset, we passed through Malyye Kizeli, a small village a
hundred miles from Perm. Our men were playing music and our brightly-
clad women were waving at the villagers.

A mile beyond the city, our wagons pulled off the road and into a
grove of trees. Immediately, the women made ready to cook, while the
men gathered wood and built a fire. Once the sun had set, they would
play their music and dance. The band expected visitors from the
village to come and be entertained.

A jug of wine was passed around and then the music commenced. Katrina
circled around me, her body moving like a flame in a burning campfire.

A gypsy boy stepped from behind one of the wagons and seated himself
in the firelight. His eyes stared at my Katrina, then at me. He sat
cross-legged on a rug knitted of purple and green wool. It lay beneath
a tree whose branches wound into the sky over his wagon. From one of
the branches over his head, a white paper lantern hung. It was
embellished with dangling stars and moons that had been cut from gold
and tin. He smiled shyly at me. His eyes beckoned me to join him.

From the billowing sleeves of his open shirt, he retrieved a deck of
cards.

This Gypsy Boy --- with eyes the color of dark brown coffee, the boy
of the crooked hair and crooked teeth, the boy whose name I can not
remember --- is a boy who is not my friend***.

"Your fortune," he said, setting the cards down upon the rug before
him. I knelt down and took the cards into my hands. Without being told
what to do, I began to shuffle them, turning over and over in my mind
the events of the last week: my being chosen, Uncle Gregori and his
strange behavior and now Katrina and my recently-discovered desires.

The cards looked ragged, but flowed smoothly against one another.

I shuffled, rearranging the cards over and over until my confusions
faded from my mind, until the only thing that I felt was the rhythm of
the cards and the music. The Gypsy Boy raised a finger for me to stop.
Then he took the cards and laid them out before me.

He moved one card to the side, then looked deeply into my eyes. I saw
a soft depth of understanding that surprised me. He looked away and
picked up a second card, then a third. Again his eyes returned to
mine, but this time with an angry fire, "We have nothing for you here,
peasant boy."

He jumped to his feet and disappeared behind the wagon from whence he
had come.

Katrina moved close to me. "Sergi is jealous. Pay him no mind. Come.
Let us dance."

Soon the grove was crowded with village men and gypsy women. The music
and the movement built toward an evening that abandonned the worries
of the night and the toil of the day.

We drank much of the wine and our figures twisted in the sweeping
patterns of shadow and light.

It was near midnight when my Katrina and I sought the soft quiet of
our wagon. As we climbed into its privacy, I saw the Gypsy boy with
eyes the color of dark brown coffee, the boy of the crooked hair and
crooked teeth, the boy whose name I can not remember, the boy who was
not my friend.

We quickly undressed and sought the pleasure of our bare bodies. Soon
we shared our breath, the taste of the other's mouth and finally our
slumber.

When I woke the next morning, I was alone. I could hear Katrina
chatting lightly with Maria as our wagon lumbered along the road. For
some reason, I suddenly realized that I felt better, more in control
of myself. Even the memories of our looking and our touching seemed
sweeter than those I remembered when I had mounted her. It appeared
that Uncle Gregori knew what he was talking about.

From time to time, I caught a glimpse of the Gypsy Boy. He always
seemed to be looking at me, but if I engaged his gaze, he would look
elsewhere.

That evening we passed through the tiny village of Syumsi and camped
just on the other side. There had been few townspeople when we drove
down the narrow street. Katrina said we could use the rest.

We expected Uncle Gregori to catch up with us the next day. This night
would be our last night together. Even though I knew we would not
pleasure ourselves, I was looking forward to just looking at her,
touching her and have her touch me.

Dancing and drinking were absent that night. It was getting close to
bedtime when the Gypsy Boy sat next to us. He paused for a long time
before he spoke. "Alex, you are our guest. I should not feel anger in
my heart toward you. It is not that I begrudge you Katrina. But I am
closer to her age than you and I have often wanted to sleep with her,
but she only has eyes for others."

Katrina laughed softly. "Sergi, you are like my brother. We could
never sleep together."

"I think when we are older, you may change your mind. I will make a
good lover."

We left him sitting by the fire and slipped into our wagon.

The night was cool and we lay close. I could feel each curve of her
body as she pressed against me. Soon we were asleep. I slept lightly,
constantly aware of my hardness.

It was still dark, but I knew it was almost morning when I woke to the
sound of gentle tapping on the side of the wagon next to where my head
lay. "Alex, I must speak with you." I recognized the voice of the
Gypsy Boy. I felt around for my trousers, but could not find them. So
I stepped from the wagon as I was. The cold air chilled my body.

Clouds dimmed the moonlight, but I could see him squatting next to the
wagon. "I did not mean to interrupt your pleasures." "We were
sleeping," I yawned. "Oh!" He pointed toward my erection and said, "I
would have thought otherwise."

My eyes were still heavy with sleep and I closed them against the
intrusive moonlight.

Suddenly I felt a delicious sensation upon my member. It was warm and
wet and there was a rubbing motion which provided a stimulus I had
never dreamed possible. It was almost like when I was in Katrina, but
there was a constant attention to every sensitive spot. I pushed my
hips forward, pressing my abdomen into the source of that pleasure.

My penis began to pulse and my movement became more frantic. It felt
like I was shooting something out into space. When I recovered, I
discovered that I was alone. I had never heard of this kind of sex.
There was just a moment, a split second, where one emotion was about
to become engulfed by another . . . but not quite.

Satiated, I returned to the arms of my Katrina. The rest of the night
passed with my wondering if my willpower had been violated by the
Gypsy Boy.

                           ---------------

Definition of Russian words used in this chapter:

Serf : Similar to a slave, but bound to the land rather than a person.
Startsi : Holy man
Petooshock : Boys penis.
Ebatsya! : Swear word equivalent to Fuck!

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