Date: Sun, 29 Mar 2015 19:14:05 -0700
From: Sellar Dhor <sellardhor@gmail.com>
Subject: Evil is a Man: Blood In Blood Out chapter 28
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
If you like what you're reading, let me know: SellarDhor@gmail.com.
And let me know where you want the story to go and who you want Jake to end
up with.
And if you have any ideas for the future, let me know, I might include them.
FEBRUARY 15th
After stepping through Big Horn's portal, a quick visual appraisal
of our new surroundings took my breath away. We were standing in a street
that was by far the most beautiful I had ever seen. The buildings around
us, which at most were a few stories tall, yet still taller than anything I
had seen in the Territory, were crafted with such gorgeous detail.
Yes, Parker, this is what you had in mind when you were so eager for
us to explore Europe together.
Having a passion for history had given me just enough of a knowledge
of architecture to really appreciate the majesty of my surroundings. From
the buildings closest to me, my guess would have been that we had stepped
into Paris, as structures seemed to be either from the Art-Nouveau period,
asymmetrical buildings from the late 1800's filled with arches and curves,
or the slightly older and more regal looking Beaux-Arts, stone buildings
with grandiose ornamentation, filled with columns, cornices, and balconies.
And to support my Paris theory, the newest structures here were in the
Victorian structural expressionism that would fall in line with the Eiffel
Tower, with its practical iron lattice structures almost at odds with the
older structures.
And then I noticed the classical Russian architecture in a cluster
of the farther buildings, designs calling to mind what I would expect to
see in St. Petersburg or Moscow, much older buildings that were vibrantly
colorful.
"Breathtaking," I said. "What is this city, Big Horn?"
"Does it matter, Crazy Kid? They all are the White Man's dwellings,
is there anything else that matters?"
"A simple `I don't know,' would suffice, Big Horn."
"Oh, but I do know," he said. "They call this city `Krasnyj Sneg.'
It's the capitol of the Petrov Blood Territory, or what they call their
`Carstvo.'"
"We've gone to the modern era, haven't we?" I asked, noticing that
the whole city was glowing in gorgeous electric light. Even though it was
daytime, the dark grey clouds covered so much of the light that the whole
city was lit up, including gorgeously old-fashioned lampposts at the
sidewalk's edge.
"Not quite," he said, pointing.
I followed his finger down the street in front of us, where instead
of cars, fancy black carriages, all enclosed, were being pulled down the
street by large horses. "Hmm, so the Petrovs are stuck in history just
like the Logans?" I asked. "Big Horn, what year are they locked into?"
"The White Man's years mean nothing to me."
"Please, just tell me."
He sighed. "Turn of the century."
The people braving the snow on the sidewalk were all dressed in
European styles appropriate to that time period, all of it much nicer than
anything I had seen in the Territory (Parker's clothes excepted, of
course).
"Yes, the 1890's, it seems. There's nothing here that would hint at
anything from the twentieth century, let alone the twenty-first."
"Except your clothing, I'm afraid." He led me down the street,
turned a corner, and pointed at one of the oldest, most beautiful Russian
buildings I had ever laid eyes on, in pictures or in person. "That's the
Sneg Dvorec, the head of government here."
The Russian-Baroque Sneg Dvorec looked much like the Smolny
Cathedral in St. Petersburg, only larger and more grand, all painted white
and ice blue. The building seemed to recall the look of the most exquisite
classical wedding cake ever baked. The lower stories were filled with
white ornamentation that somehow reminded me of frosting, with pillar,
pediments, and pediments everywhere. The upper stories were capped with
gorgeous onion domes, so distinctly Russian. I wondered if Parker had ever
laid eyes on this grand building, and suddenly wished we were experiencing
this together.
Just like the first time Big Horn had teleported me into Mareshead,
I noticed that the people walking the streets and being pulled by in
stagecoaches were looking at the two of us curiously. "We're being stared
at," I said. "Is it our clothes or our skin color?" It didn't take me
long to notice than unlike in the Territory, there wasn't any measure of
racial diversity here, every bundled up face looking at us were lily white.
"It's our clothes," Big Horn said. "And they can clearly see I'm
not human because I'm not the least bit cold even in my loincloth. One
look at my eyes will tell them I'm a Logan Blood vampire."
"Is that a problem?"
"Perhaps. I'm not from one of the important families, so I have no
protection here. And I haven't been sent here by the Governor, in fact,
quite the opposite is true. But I am not afraid of them."
"Big Horn, the last thing I need is another one of my friends dying
on account of me," I said. "You brought me here, please go home before
they realize you're here."
"But I came to guard you."
"But being around you could end up making them treat me like the
enemy in this case. Please just go home."
"Alright, Crazy Kid, you don't ever need to convince me to go back
to the land of my ancestors."
"Wait, before you go, take this." I fished through my backpack,
pulled out Parker's pretty much unused cell phone and charger, and held it
out for him.
"Nope, you know I don't use the White Man's tools, especially not
ones used to summon people like masters calling their dogs to them."
"Please will you just take it for me? You don't even need to check
it but once in a blue moon. I'll leave a message for you if I need you.
If you care for me at all, Big Horn, you'll take this from me."
"Even if you managed to guilt me into accepting this, where exactly
am I supposed to plug it in to charge? My wickiup didn't come standard
with electricity outlets."
"No, but they have them at Lettie's, so you can charge it there."
"Fine, I'll take it," he said finally, grabbing it from my hand
roughly. "But you swear to tell no one about this embarrassment."
"Yes, I promise." I reached over and gave Big Horn a big hug,
though he was so unfamiliar with that kind of affection, he froze up.
And then Big Horn opened up one of his portals, and he was gone.
I turned towards the grand Sneg Dvorec and went inside. The room I
found myself in literally took my breath away. It was only the entry way
of the building, and yet it was so grand. The whole room was decorated in
a glittering, ornately Baroque style, all bright light and shining colors,
with much of it carved in gold. This room was just as blue and white as
the outside had been. My eyes were instantly drawn upwards to the
impossibly high archways of the domed ceiling, so awe inspiring.
Glittering gold sculptures were everywhere, and at first I half expected
them to be religious in nature. But a further study of them proved that
there were no angel figures, no demons, no indication of deities of any
kind. Instead, the figures here were people, chronicling the real history
of this Blood, perhaps.
At the other side of the room were the only other doors, and they
were all blocked by a large desk, where a single woman in an oddly drab
(considering the surroundings) grey period-dress, obviously a human, was
sitting, looking bored. Other than her, the room had a fair amount of
intimidating men dressed as turn of the century European infantry, and were
obviously armed. Not wanting to arouse the wrath of the soldiers, I walked
to the innocuous looking woman instead.
She said something in Russian as I approached, her voice sounding
just as bored as she looked. She was in her forties and had no make-up on.
A nametag identified her as Dima, and it made me realize that everything in
this city was written in the standard English/Latin letters that I knew,
not Russian letters.
"Hi, I'm Jake Groves, and I need to meet with your leader of your
Blood. The matter is highly important."
She just stared at my face for a second, no sign of any emotion on
her face.
"Oh, I'm sorry, you don't speak English, do you?" Suddenly I felt
like some awful American tourist that expects the whole world will speak
their language.
"No, I speak English," she said with a Russian accent. "I just
cannot fathom how to respond to such a demand."
"Oh, you do speak English, bless you."
She squinted. "If you are here to ascertain that the Petrov Blood
is fulfilling its requirement to speak English, you'll find that everyone
here is required to be fluently bilingual."
"No, that's not what I'm here for."
She seemed subtly relieved.
"I need to talk with the Governor."
"I think you mean, the Tsar."
"Yes, him, precisely."
"That's not even a request I can begin to accommodate, and I've
never even been asked such a thing in all my time working here."
"Listen, I'm not just some weirdo off the street who wants a
photo-op with your Tsar for me to text all my friends. I'm here on
international business concerning the Vampire Council itself."
"I have no idea what you're talking about, but I'll tell you what I
tell everyone else. If you're an approved Proletariat servant, I can see
you to your expected place of work. Everyone else in the Sneg Dvorec needs
to be of the approved Aristocracy or Bourgeoisie classes, with proper
identification cards."
"And how can I get one of these IDs?"
"You need to either become a part of the Aristocracy or the
Bourgeoisie," she said. "The only way into the former is through marriage.
But Proletariat people such as yourself enter the Bourgeoisie all the time,
and that's really your best option."
"What do I have to do, buy myself into that position?"
"No," she said. "You'll just need two things. First, you need to
obtain Aristocratic sponsorship. Just a single person is all you need.
And secondly, you need to pass a fencing proficiency test."
"I'm sorry, did I hear you correctly? Did you say I had to be a
proficient fencer?" I was hoping her English had slipped.
"Yes, that's right," she said. "How would you currently classify
your level of fencing proficiency?"
"I'm hoping you are referring to installing fences, in which case I
do have some minimal experience."
"That's cute. We're talking swordsmanship."
"Mmm, moderate to non-existent, I'd say. Does anyone seriously
still fence?"
"Oh yes, fencing is a hugely significant part of our culture, I'm
afraid," she said.
"I personally can't stand any sport that seems like it was invented
just so spectators might satiate their lust to see spilt blood."
"Well, you'd better not share those opinions with people around
here," she warned sharply.
"Well, can you direct me towards the nearest fencing academy,
please?"
"Most of the Proletariat never fence a day in their life, it's
considered a gentleman's pursuit." She huffed. "It's quite illegal for
any of them to be fencing with each other unless they've been approved to
do so by Aristocratic sponsors, especially since it can be deadly. I don't
know what Blood you came from, sir, but the Petrov Blood heavily values its
strong moral code. Aristocrats and Bourgeoisie are all proper gentlemen
and ladies, and the Proletariat has a strict series of laws in order to
keep them up to the moral standards of the upper classes." She raised an
eyebrow. "We would never dream of permitting human slaver here, and not
even the Tsar himself is powerful enough to kill or rape innocent people
without serious repercussions."
"I think that's terrific," I said. "I'm really not from the Logan
Blood, if that's what you're implying."
She lowered her voice, looked around to make sure the guards were
far away from us, and pulled me close to her.
"Look, I'm not really supposed to be sharing this with you, but
since you're obviously an outsider, I feel bad for you." She took out a
paper and started to write directions. "There's a Proletariat gym not far
from here, and I'm writing how to get there. As I said, this city is a
very orderly, safe place. But the sort of folks that go to that gym are
the one exception. Fencing may be illegal for them to perform, but that
doesn't mean there aren't some seamier sorts who are willing to break the
rules for a price. Ask for a man named Alik Grishan, he may be able to
help you. If he can't help you, then there's nothing left for you to do."
I discretely took the paper and thanked her.
*****
Walking into the gym made me feel an odd sense of déjà vu, as
all the Mareshead mansion gym equipment (all of which had an antique feel)
was all there, only this gym was in a far less attractive room than the one
in Mareshead, all unfinished wood and worn stone interiors. The outside of
the building had been beautiful and classic, but here the interior clearly
needed more upkeep than it was getting, and it looked like the kind of
place that made you glad the electricity and heat was on.
Another thing that set this gym apart was that a large part of the
space was devoted to a boxing ring, all of which looked so strangely off
when compared to what I was used to modern boxing rings looking like, this
one was far less flashy and very low tech. Two boxers there seemed to be
practicing while others stood around the ring, watching or offering advice.
I'd always hated boxing, surely going along with my extreme dislike
for blood. Yet still, it was easy to ignore the ring in the back and look
at the people in their Victorian-esque undergarments pressing iron that got
me antsy to have a real workout again.
"Alik? Looking for an Alik!" I shouted.
"I'm Alik," said a mean-looking older man, his face wrought with
lines, who was standing around looking official, his arms crossed. He
seemed to be the man in charge of the gym.
"Hi Alik, I'm Jake Groves, and I was told you might be able to help
me with certain, um, services," I said the last word with subtlety.
He raised an eyebrow. "Ya got money?"
"A little."
"Well, the dogfights I run in secret are on Tuesday nights out in
the train yards."
"Dogfights? No, that's not what I wanted."
"Oh, right, you're here about the underground supply of fine horse
tranquilizers I got? For the right price, you can be snorting the stuff in
a couple hours."
"Eew, no, that's not why I came either. Just how many illegal
operations are you running here, Mr. Grishan?"
"Grishan?" he asked. "Alik Grishan? Don't be an ass. I'm not Alik
Grishan, I'm Alik Khorkov."
"Well then, who is Alik Grishan?"
He looked at me quizzically. "Everyone in this whole fuckin' city
knows what Alik Grishan looks like. He's the blonde stud in the ring, of
course." Embarrassed by my mistake, I left the sinister, older Alik and
walked over to the boxing ring.
The blonde boxer was much younger and handsomer than the one who ran
the gym. My first impression was that he surely was a vampire, as he was a
good-looking fellow. But his body, naturally large framed, was so packed
on with muscle, he was heavier than any vampire I had ever seen. And
unlike the vampires, who tended to look like really fit wide receivers or
running backs, Alik didn't have quite the tight definition of those. He
wasn't as big as a bodybuilder, but his body looked like one of the best
looking pro-wrestling bodies I had seen. Plus, he had green eyes, and I
knew that Big Horn had probably the last Logan Blood vampire to come
through in decades. He was just an intimidating specimen of a regular man.
There was something about his face that gave me a weird sense of
déjà vu, but figured it must have just been that he reminded me of a
young Dolph Lundgren, complete with spiked up, platinum blonde hair which
was shavedon the sides. Not that he would know who he was emulating, of
course. There was something about his face that seemed philistine, almost
like his hard facial features had been knocked in one too many times,
though in spite of this, he still was a handsome guy, not that I was the
least bit attracted to boorish boxers.
I knew he was practicing because the other person in the ring with
him was heavily padded and protected, and Alik was the only one swinging.
Alik looked somewhere between bored and angry as he hopped around, slamming
his boxing gloves into the hapless participant, with a little bit of
glassy-eyed stupid thrown in too.
Just like the Logan Blood Territory, there were some anachronistic
aspects here. And the most obvious was that somehow, somewhat modern
looking boxing shorts were being worn by the boxers, though these were held
up with a string belt, not elastic or spandex, and were both shorter than
modern shorts and weren't pulled up as high. While the sparing partner's
shorts had no sign of a package, I could see the outline of Alik's dick
through the grey material of the shorts, making me wonder if he wasn't
wearing any underwear.
"Excuse me, Mr. Grishan?" I asked. "I'm Jake Groves.
He didn't answer me.
"Mr. Grishan?"
"Can't ya see that I'm boxing here?" he said in a deep, slightly
slurred voice, with the thickest Russian accent I had ever heard. In fact,
I wondered how Dima's assurance that the Petrov Blood all spoke English
could hardly be true if this one so barely was able to communicate to me.
"If I could just bother you for a moment," I said.
"I don't do free autographs, you have to pay for those." Suddenly I
realized that this Alik must have been unfriendly, cocky, and greedy. If I
didn't absolutely need his help, I would have just turned and walked out
the door.
"That's the last thing I have on my mind, but I can pay you for what
I need."
"If your another poor sap who is dying to have me teach them how to
box like I do, well, first of all, let's face it, you're never gonna box
like I do," he said as he continued to swing punches at his spar partner.
"And second, it takes a pocketful of bills to buy me as a trainer, you
gotta be loaded."
"I'm not here to learn how to box, thank heavens," I said. "But I
do need your services, and all that I'm asking is that you let me tell you
discretely."
"Fine. Everyone hold on for a sec. Give me and the man with the
ugly clothes some breathing room."
"I do not have ugly clothes," I said, but no one paid attention.
After the other boxer and the various others who were standing
around moved away, the sweaty, hulking boxer came over to where I was
standing and leaned against the ropes, looking down at me eye to eye for
the first time. "Yes?"
"I want to make you an offer, to pay you for some of your services
that I'm not entirely sure are legal here."
He nodded discreetly and lowered his voice. "Who did you hear this
from?"
"From a woman who seemed to be impressed with your offerings. It
has to do with..." I lowered my voice into a tiny whisper. "...your
swordplay."
He nodded again, understanding exactly what I was looking for. "I
get those requests all the time. Those kinds of services I charge more
than anything for. Are you just looking for a tiny little taste, which
won't cost ya that much, or are you looking for the whole nine yards?"
"I need it all," I said, knowing that I needed his instruction, not
just him letting me whip around a sword for a few minutes and then tell me
to get out. "And I need the equipment," I added, realizing that he would
have to either let me borrow his gear for my test or let me buy it.
"That'll be extra."
"I can pay whatever you need," I said, thinking of the hundreds of
Parker's dollars that I had on me.
He seemed to almost crack a smile, and then stopped himself. "We'll
do it right now?"
"Yes, that works for me."
"Everyone out," he yelled to the whole room. "Gym's closed."
The other Alik grumbled. "It's my shitty gym, and I say when it's
closed. And right now, it's in the middle of the day."
"Oh yeah, Alik Khorkov, who is the one who brings in all the profit
for this shitty gym?"
"Alright, fine, you heard him, everyone out."
After everyone had shuffled out and the older Alik locked the gym,
it was just the two of us left in there. "Throw me that bag," Alik
ordered, nodding at a nearby suitcase. I did as he asked, and noticed how
heavy it was, clearly it held the fencing equipment. "Why don't you take
off your ugly clothes now?"
"Ugh, right now?"
"Uh, yes. It sort of goes with the territory, right?" he asked,
looking for something in his bag with serious inefficiency given he hadn't
bothered to remove his boxing gloves. I realized he must have been finding
me a fencing suit that would fit me, and suddenly me striping all made
sense. "Unless you'd rather have me undress you?"
"Ha, ha, yeah right. No no, I'm perfectly capable of undressing on
my own."
While Alik continued to huddle down on the boxing ring floor and
rummage through his bag, I took off my jacket and shirt, leaving me naked
from the waist up.
My body caught Alik's attention, and he looked at my naked torso
curiously. "With all those clothes on, it had been impossible to tell what
kind of shape you were in. I expected you to be fat or severely scrawny,
but you turn out to have quite a body." It was odd to hear him say
something nice to me, and odder still, his tone of voice wasn't exactly
sweet.
"Uh, thanks, you don't look half bad yourself in the body
department."
I took of my pants and shoes, leaving just my briefs on.
"You're not taking those off too?" he asked.
"Should I?"
"Of course! Look, I don't care what ya got under there, this is all
business to me, man."
"Um, alright."
He looked away, and it was reassuring to know he wasn't trying to
check me out, to him, there was nothing sexual about this nudity, it was
completely just a part of the deal. And being an athlete, he probably was
around naked guys in the locker room all the time, and it was no big thing.
I pulled my briefs off and folded those too before I stood there totally
nude, covering my unit with my hands.
Alik looked back at me again and chuckled. "Still feeling bashful,
huh? Look, you might as well take your hands away. Even if you have the
tiniest dick in the world, it won't matter to me."
"Uh, okay," I said, removing my hands.
He did a double take when he saw my dick for the first time. "Hell,
you've got bigger than average-sized equipment there. Nothing wrong with
you at all, in fact, which is damn surprising."
I didn't know whether to thank him or be offended, so I changed the
subject. "Did you find the gear in there?"
"The gear?"
"Yeah, you know, my protective equipment?"
"Oh, protection. Yeah, I've been looking, but I can't find any in
here. I think we should be okay without it." I figured the swords must
have been practice ones that weren't sharp.
He stood up again and came over to me, standing against the ropes.
"Come here," he said, motioning me towards him.
I looked up into his eyes and moved myself right up against the
outside of the ring.
He used his boxing gloved hands to bring my right hand towards him.
"Here, get a handful of this."
I moved my eyes down to his waist just as he placed my hand against
the outside of his boxing shorts, right against that prominent bulge I had
noticed earlier. Only this time, instead of being soft, he was clearly all
sorts of erect. I was so shocked and repulsed I almost pulled my hand
away.
"Yeah, give it a good squeeze, there. Let it know that you're going
to show it one helluva time."
And it dawned on me, all of it. He was coming onto me. I should
have known as soon as he made everyone leave, made me undress. And the
comment about protection hadn't been about protective fencing gear, it had
been about a condom. That's what he had been searching for in his bag but
couldn't find.
Of course, I should have known that my few hundred dollars would
have been meaningless to him. He was some famous athlete here, after all,
someone who get paid for his autographs. He was rolling in cash. No, the
payment for teaching me to fence in his mind had never been my money. The
payment was my body, I was going to pay him upfront by letting him screw
me, and that was the only way he would teach me what I needed to know.
Any small shred of respect I had for this Alik went out the window
as I realized he joined a small group of men who tried to buy my body: Syd,
Jeremiah Riley, and the Pawnee vampires. Though the idea of selling myself
in that manner was completely detestable to me, I thought of the stakes I
was in. Before, it had always been the lives of friends or loved ones that
convinced me. Now, it was ultimately my own life I would lose if Alik
couldn't help me get into the inner circle of this Blood's vampires so I
could communicated the message I needed to get to the Tsar. Cornelius and
Jericho had made it crystal clear that if I failed to personally reach the
Blood Leaders, I would be killed.
But was my own life worth sexual humiliation in order to save it?
Just as I was leaning towards no, I remembered all those bus passengers who
had been locked up in Mareshead as slaves just because they had the
misfortune of boarding the same bus I was on. I could not forget about my
hope to find a way to save them and all the other Logan Blood slaves, even
if it took a half century or longer to do it.
I certainly wasn't low on experience in pleasing those who were
paying for my services, but the last time I had bottomed it had been forced
by Jericho himself, and since then, I had related bottoming to pain,
violence, and torture. The experiences I had had while in the Pens or
captured by the Calvary only supported that. But all I had to do was grin
and bear it, there was nothing here that remotely needed my enjoyment of
the process. Sure, I had sworn I would never bottom again, but I could
make this one exception.
So, instead of fighting him off, I reciprocated, making my choice,
but hating Alik for what I was forced to do.
Perhaps because I hadn't done what he had asked, and had just kept
my hand immobile against the spear in his shorts while I made my decision,
he dropped to his knees until he was at my face level and kissed me deeply
through the ropes, shutting his eyes and invading my mouth with his tongue.
As he kissed me, I realized that this wasn't just him using my body,
like it had been for some of the others. He was like Syd, he absolutely
expected me to participate and act like I wanted him, to get off as well as
him. Well, I could play his game.
Like I had done so many times with Syd, I forced myself to block out
the fact that this was someone who I was being essentially arm-twisted into
having sex with, someone I reviled, and instead pretended that this sex was
my choice, which was the only way I would manage to get my libido going.
Lucky for me, Alik was such an attractive man physically, at least I
could just focus on his body, which was extremely sexy.
I concentrated on the very alluring flavor of his lips and tongue.
"Okay, okay, I'll do it, I'll do it," I said, breaking the kiss.
"You can stand up again, I know what to do."
He stood up so his shorts were at my level again, and this time I
didn't need him to push my hand there, I pushed my fingers into the outline
of his obviously very hung dick, feeling the soft fabric covering it,
stroking it up and down while he simply responded with a low growl.
He placed his boxing gloves on the back of my head, pulling my face
against the hard lump in his shorts through the ropes. I opened my mouth
and licked at the grey cloth of those shorts all around his prominent lump,
while he made every indication that he liked what I was doing.
While I worked with my mouth, I used my hand down below to stroke
myself hard.
"Why don't you come in the ring with me?" he asked.
I nodded, climbing over the ropes until I was standing on his level,
and his eyes looked all over my body, stopping at my hard dick.
"Why don't you get a feel of my muscles?" he asked as he did a
double bicep pose, flexing his hardy arm muscles.
I walked over his extremely large bicep, which felt like the largest
muscles I had ever touched, and felt like rock as he flexed. Though his
arms weren't as vascular or cut as Parker's had been, his size was
impressive.
After I felt on his arms, he flexed his chest, and that's what I
started rubbing. He was bare there, no chest hair, and his pecs were some
of the largest I'd ever seen in person, and certainly the largest I had
ever felt. You could feel so much power in them, yet there was a small
layer of fat there too under the skin that made him softer to touch than
Parker had been.
I lowered my hands to his abs, which were the least impressive of
all. There was a lot of muscle under there, but there was enough fat so
that their definition only came through a bit. Not to say he wasn't an
extremely sexy guy, I had just been spoiled by the impossible standards a
vampire body set.
I noticed that he was either shaved or was naturally hairless all
over his body, legs and arms included. Only then did I look at his
armpits, and was relieved to see straight blonde hairs there.
He gave me bedroom eyes as he used his gloves to push his boxing
shorts down to his knees, his big boner popping free in front of me. It
sure was impressive, very much matching this man's huge physical stature.
It was jutting out straight ahead and up, totally hard, with his blonde
pubes surrounding its base. It was the first time I had ever seen an uncut
dick hard, and I was totally fascinated. His foreskin was stretched out,
and pushed down to the point where it left just about two-thirds of his
pink dickhead uncovered. That dickhead was different in texture than I was
used to with the circumcised dicks I had seen, it was totally smooth and
glistening. I put my hands there and rubbed, and then moved them down to
the foreskin covered stalk, which was so much thicker skinned than I was
used to. I pulled the foreskin up and down, less and more of his head
being exposed as I did so.
The only thing that didn't appeal to me were Alik's balls, which
were on the small side, but I squeezed those too, politely.
I felt Alik's gloves pushing my shoulders down, and I followed his
lead, dropping to my knees until his dick was right at my level. I knew
what was expected of me: I started to lick on him. I did get a real kick
out of licking his shiny knob and using my tongue to slide beneath his
foreskin, pushing it back. When I had played enough with it, I got down to
business and started to give him head, all the while keeping myself excited
by stroking my dick.
Alik was decidedly non-vocal, he just groaned like an animal and
curled his toes in pleasure as I gave him one serious oral job. Even
though he wasn't much of a talker, he did hiss in pleasure as I first
managed to get all the way down his huge, milky pole and my chin hit his
balls, and I felt his knob leak a warm plat of precum in response onto the
back of my throat. Too bad that meant I had to have my nose buried in his
blonde pubes, as that gave me a strong whiff of sweat. I realized I had
been spoiled by only giving vampires oral, who even when they never bathed,
didn't ever smell as bad as men. Alik's dick itself tasted sweaty, but not
in a bad way, leading me to believe it hadn't been that long since he had
showered, yet his pubes were so soaked with sweat they were over the line
into being unpleasant. I just decided not to breathe in when I was all the
way up on him like that, and soon I was doing fine again, bobbing up and
down.
He was enjoying himself so much, he was pushing himself into me,
thrusting into my mouth while at the same time pushing my body back against
the ropes. I put my hands on his hefty bubble butt, again not as taut as
Parker's had been, and the front of his boxing shorts pressed against my
chest.
Finally, he used his gloves to push me away from his dick and spun
me around until I faced the ropes, pulling me to my feet at the same time.
I heard him open a cap, and next thing I knew, his lubed fingers
were forcing their way into me. Given how hung he was, I was thankful that
he had the decency to at least use lube.
I felt him enter me, and I tried not to cry out as he did it. There
was so much pain, I almost stopped him right there. I knew logically that
Giggles had healed any damage Jericho had done to my insides, but I was so
conditioned for the pain that if someone told me Alik's unit was made of
razors instead of flesh, I would have believed it.
The only way I got through it was to force myself not to think about
that side of me. Still, in the process, my dick responded by shriveling
up. That would not do at all, I knew. That was not what I was being paid
for. Luckily, as he took control, he pushed my front against the ropes,
and I rubbed myself up and down on the rope down there to get me going
again.
He wrapped his arms around my chest and I could look down and see
his gloves beneath me. I could feel his boxing shorts rubbing against the
back of my legs and I knew that they were still around his knees.
He never said a word, only making animalistic grunts. He wasn't the
least bit gentle or sweet, but he wasn't one of those lovers who had total
disregard for my pleasure either. He was forceful, but not so much he ever
risked hurting me. Well, at least when it came to every part of my body
besides my butt, which still screamed in pain.
As he rode me, my hard dick was pressed against one of the ropes,
and that was the only thing setting me off. Eventually, I worked my dick
to the edge of orgasm, trying not to think about the pain behind me.
I couldn't take it anymore, and I started to shoot.
Behind me, he must have seen me go because he used that as trigger
to let himself go as well, and he tensed up all his muscles and started his
orgasm.
He flooded me. Of course, not as much as I was used to with Parker,
but again with being spoiled by vampire bodies.
The silence that had remained between us for most of the sex
continued in the aftermath as well, when Alik stayed inside me for a few
minutes and just cuddled me from behind, contradicting the expectation I
had of him that he would be the love them and leave them type.
Just when I was starting to think maybe he had a hidden sweet side
to him after all, he literally shook himself out of his trance and pulled
away from me.
"Alright then, we need to be on our way," Alik said.
"Look, do you mind if I at least take a shower first, before?"
"I don't know."
"You do have a shower here, right? I mean, this is a gym."
"Yes, alright, a shower will be fine. But anymore touching is
more."
I wasn't sure what he meant, and his accent was so painfully thick,
it was sometimes hard to discern what he was saying at all.
Alik pulled his boxing shorts up and led me out of the boxing ring,
and I grabbed all of my things before he led us through one of the back
doors, and into a rundown locker room. He threw me a bar of soap and a
towel as I set my stuff down, and then led me towards the grimy shower
portion of room, which was just one large room with multiple showerheads
along its three walls and no sign of any partition.
I hung up my towel and walked over to the first showerhead, turned
the knob, but all that came out was pipe groan.
"That one don't work," said Alik.
I tried the next one, with the same results.
"Same with that one, and the next one too."
"Great plumbing you have in this gym," I said, turning on one that
did work finally.
As I washed myself, I saw Alik take off his boxing gloves and shoes,
and then pull off his shorts as well, leaving him naked. His dick, then
semi-soft, was glistening with lube and cum.
He walked over to the showerhead directly across from me. "I'd take
another spot, but this is the only other head that works right now."
"That's fine," I said.
He faced away from me and soaped up his back and his hefty legs, and
then turned to face me and started washing the grease and seed off his
large unit.
"I don't like the way you're looking at me," he said. "Do you
really have to stand outward while you wash?."
"I guess not," I said, turning to face the wall.
When we both had finished cleaning ourselves, we ended up back in
the locker room toweling off.
"Alright, we've stalled long enough," said Alik.
"Agreed."
"So, where is it?"
"Where is what?"
"My money?"
"Your money?" I asked, and then realized that he must have not only
wanted to sleep with me as payment, but he wanted my money as well. It
seemed like an awfully huge price to me, but what could I to do? "Fine, if
you want my money, I'll give you my money."
He watched attentively as I fished through my pack until I found my
wallet and pulled it out.
"I'll give you everything I have, that should be more than enough."
"Yes, give it to me."
I handed him the large bundle of bills I had, most of which came
from Parker.
He snatched the money and looked at it despairingly. "This is toy
money. Fake. Worthless." He threw is angrily on the ground. "Don't try
to fool me!"
"Whoa, wait a minute, that's real money." I went to the ground and
started to pick it all up. "There's hundreds of dollars here!"
"What is a dollar? I want rubles! Rubles only!"
"Oh right, of course. Well, can't you just exchange this at a
bank?"
"I don't know what that means."
"Well, let me go to the bank and exchange it for you, I'll be back
soon."
"No way, if you think I'm gonna let you just walk out of here
without paying me, you're crazy. No one gets between me and my money."
"Well, look, I have my credit card, can you run up my payment on
that?" I handed him the card.
"What am I supposed to do with this?"
"You know, swipe it."
"Swipe it up your ass?"
"No, on your credit card machine."
"We don't have those here."
"Fine, can I write you a check? I have my checkbook right here."
"I don't care what kind of book you have, I don't give a shit about
reading, all I want is my money."
"Okay, clearly you people really could use some modern banking
perks. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said I had money without knowing you
wouldn't be able to use my dollars."
"You know, I hate hurting people, but if word gets out that I let
someone leave here without paying me one ruble, folks'll start taking
advantage of me left and right."
"Wait a second, it's not like I didn't make any payment to you.
What about the sex? That's worth way more to me than a few hundred
dollars."
"I'm sorry, my English is not the best. Don't you mean, the sex was
a payment to you?"
"Yes, a payment to you, that's what I said."
"No, I mean, the sex was payment from me to you. From Alik to
Jake."
"No, I think your English is screwed up. The sex was payment from
Jake to Alik. Meaning, I let you sleep with me because I needed your
services."
"No, no, that's wrong," he said, getting angrier and angrier. "Sex
with you was my service, and you agreed to pay me a great sum of money for
it."
"What?! You think that I just paid you for sex? You think that I
came here to pay you to treat me like that?"
"Yes, for sure."
"No, that is ludicrous! Tell me, was your intelligence just another
thing you were willing to sacrifice in order to legally beat the crap out
of people, or is it the other way around? Would only someone born of such
low common sense get into a sport like this in the first place? Because
how could you ever misconstrue that I would want to pay you to screw me
like that?!"
"Everyone else pays me for that, why not you? I get paid at least
twice a day to fuck people like you. And why not? I'm a star boxer, I've
got the best body out of all of the Proletariat fucks in this city, and I'm
hung like a horse. People will pay a fortune just to let them worship my
body with their hands. If I let them blow me and fuck them, well then they
will pay everything they have."
"No, that's gross, I never wanted you to screw me, I was told to
find you so that you could teach me how to fence."
"Fence? Are you kidding me? You never said that!"
"I said that I wanted your swordplay!"
"I thought you were talking about my well known fuck-skills!"
"No!"
"Why the fuck wouldn't you just say what you wanted explicitly?"
"I was trying to be subtle! Isn't fencing illegal for you to know?"
"True, but this whole gym is filled with nothing but slimeballs.
You could have said anything in front of them safely." He narrowed his
eyes. "Wait a second, this is all bullshit, isn't it? You're just trying
to find a way out of paying me for one hell of a fucking."
"No, that's not it."
"You sure seemed to enjoy yourself when I fucked you. You were hard
the whole time."
"Well, I thought that's what you would expect from me. Listen, I
won't deny that the sex, it may have had its moments, but I would never pay
for sex, it's just not what I do. And what about you? You had no problem
getting hard right away, did you?"
"That's because this is what I do. I'm expected to fuck men and
women who aren't the least bit attractive to me in any way, and I still can
be the stud they paid for."
"So that's what I was to you, just another unattractive crazy person
paying you to screw them because no one else will?"
"That's not entirely true, no. That's why when you took your
clothes off, I was so surprised how good looking you were. I kept trying
to find what about you made you a sexual pariah. Yes, I enjoyed it, is
that what you wanted to hear? The truth is, it was the hottest sex I've
ever had. But that's totally beside the point, because I'm not the kind of
man who has the luxury to just look for sex like that. Every time I have
sex, it's paid for. The idea of wasting a load like that for nothing but a
cheap thrill, well it drives me angry. I'm not a machine, you know. I'm
not one of those vampires. I won't be able to get into working order again
until at least tonight."
"Listen, I'm sorry, but it was a mutual misunderstanding, equal
parts my fault as it was yours. I'm sure there must be something in here I
can give you that will appease you," I said as I rifled through my bag.
"Here, what about some of my clothes?"
"I don't want any of your ugly clothes."
I tried not to bristle at that. "I've got camping equipment in
here."
"It's in the middle of fucking winter, with a couple feet of snow on
the ground. What kind of insane person would try to camp in these
conditions?"
"Well, maybe you could use it in the summer time."
"Do I look like a fucking nature boy, here? I don't give a shit
about camping."
"Well, there must be something else in there you do care about."
"Yes, there, what is that?"
Before I could see what he was talking about, he plunged his hand
into my pack and came out with a full fist.
"Ah, yes, why didn't you say something about this to begin with?"
I realized he was holding Parker's silver pocket watch, which he had
always carried in his suits and used as his main timepiece. It was very
beautiful and elegant, and reminded me very much of the only man I ever
loved.
"Nope, you can't have that, give it to me."
"Come on, this is the only thing you have in here that is remotely
worth my time."
"I don't care, give it back to me."
"Come on, don't be stingy. If I go hawk this, it'll be worth enough
to buy the sex and the fencing. There's nothing else in your bag even
remotely as valuable."
"I'm not being stingy, that watch means a whole lot to me."
"I tell ya what. I'll keep the watch, and you can walk out of here
without any bruises. It's a win- win."
"No!"
"Well, you don't get a say in the matter."
He grabbed my watch and stuck it in his things. When I
instinctively moved in to overpower him, he flexed his muscles and gave me
a very intimidating look.
"Just try, boy."
"Fine, keep it, but I'd better be impressed with my fencing
lessons."
Still buck naked, he walked over to one of the lockers and opened a
combination lock. Next thing I knew, he was handing me something wrapped
in a black cloth.
"For that watch, you've bought this from me. It's yours."
I unwrapped a fencing sword from the cloth.
"I've bought this sword? It's mine?"
"It's called a foil," he said. "And here's a mask and some
protective clothing. It all should fit you."
I touched the sharp edge of the foil and frowned. "Gosh, it's so
sharp."
"It's a fucking deadly weapon, what did you expect?"
"I hate weapons like this."
"Well then, your choice in sport is just a bit rotten."
"I don't want to learn how to fence, but I have to. I absolutely
need to see the Tsar, and apparently only the Bourgeoisie is allowed to
mingle with the vampires, and I can't become bourgeois unless I know how to
fence."
"Well, if that's your goal, training you now is pointless. I don't
care if you're the best fencer this world has ever seen, you still aren't
gonna get anywhere without an Aristocratic sponsor."
"How do I get one of those?"
"You need to meet a vampire."
"How do I do that?"
"You don't, they meet you. Every time any of them go outside, they
are so guarded you won't even get close. But I have an idea, if you got
the balls to pull it off."
"What's that?"
"They'll let you into the Sneg Dvorec if you are one of their
approved servants."
"Do you think they'll hire me as a servant?"
"No chance. Those are some of the most in demand, high paying jobs
in the city. You need to just walk in there and pretend you know what
you're doing."
"Oh, great. You're telling me to lie about who I am. I hate, hate
lying to people."
"Well, you can lie or you can fail. Your choice."
"Fine. I'll at least give it a try."
"But you can't walk in there with your ugly clothes on. Lucky for
you, I have one of their servant uniforms in here, which I obtained
completely illegally of course, you can have it." He started looking
through his locker.
"Between you and the other Alik, you have just about anything that
could possibly be sold on the black market, don't you?"
"I'm going to ignore the tone of hostility that was in your voice
right then and take that as a compliment. Here, put on your uniform."
He handed me a very nice-looking period uniform, all black with
white highlights.
"Please tell me this is a cleaning uniform, I'd make one hell of a
maid."
"Nope, food server. It is what it is."
"That's fine. My mother is a waitress, and there've been times I
was with her and it was so busy, I volunteered to help. I'm good at
carrying trays of food and at remembering people's orders. It should be
fine."
"Now, you can't just expect to have that outfit on and suddenly the
Sneg Dvorec will wave you in with open arms. You need to have a real
position to fill, or else they'll just throw you out. Luckily, you paid
handsomely for my services. I know a woman named Aglaya who is a server in
the dining room. She happens to be one of my rich clients, and I'll let
her know to call in sick tonight and in order to come over and get a
freebie from me. Just take her spot. A certain Stasja is the woman who
runs the kitchens there."
"Let me guess, she's paying to get screwed by you too? I'm sure
half the town has your personal number, am I right?"
"Stasja has shown absolutely no predilection of any sort towards
dick, so I'm the last person she would buy. But it's her that you'll
ultimately have to fool. Just promise me one thing. Once you see a
vampire, don't just run up to them and ask them to sponsor you. You should
know it's considered very inappropriate and all sorts of rude if you ask
anyone to sponsor you. They need to offer that themselves. Not even you
hinting towards that goal is acceptable, so don't be an idiot."
"So, I actually have to make friends with these idiots, great."
"I think you should put on your disguise and try to sneak in before
long. It's getting dark outside, and dinner won't be too far away."
"What about the fencing lesson?"
"Listen, if you find someone to sponsor you, they're really supposed
to be the one to hook you up with fencing lessons. If it doesn't work out,
I'll give you my address. You've bought yourself room and board at my
place for the night."
I started to put my black and white formal, old-fashioned waiter
outfit on, and then I took a shocked intake of breath.
"What, what is it?" asked Alik, concerned.
"These clothes are riddled with wrinkles! This is what you get for
keeping your nice clothes balled up at the bottom of your locker. I need
to have these freshly pressed before I wear them!"
"I'm not doing that."
"Well, can you get me an iron at least, so that I can do it?"
"I don't have a fucking iron at the gym with me. You don't have
time to fuss with it, you'll just have to make do."
After I put on the uniform, I gasped as I saw the wrinkles in the
mirror. "Great, I look like the world's sloppiest server. The vampires
will have the worst first impression of me."
"Hell, at least it might be a great way to break the ice with them."
I lowered my eyebrows at this annoying character. "And why exactly
are you still standing there completely naked? It's been forever since we
got out of that shower."
He ignored me. "Your clothes will do now, but you still sound like
an ass. Can you try to do a Russian accent so that you'll fit in at the
Sneg Dvorec?"
"I'll try."
"Repeat after me. `Hello, my name is Jake Groves.'"
I tried to do my best impression. "Hello, my name is Jake Groves."
"No, in a Russian accent."
"What accent exactly did you think I just did that in?"
"It sounded like an impression of a Japanese man. Well, a Japanese
man who is being strangled. Try again."
I really, really concentrated on just getting the Russian accent as
perfectly as I could. "Hello, my name is Jake Groves. Do I sound Russian
now?"
"You sound Ukrainian."
"Well, at least it's closer geographically than Japan."
"But you sound like a Ukrainian that has the worst sinus flu of all
time. One crack of that accent inside Sneg Dvorec and you'll find yourself
forcibly quarantined for a month. Your knack for accents is truly
atrocious."
"Well, I'm sorry I can take back all the hard work I spent in real
high school classes like English, Physics, and Algebra and instead devote
my man hours into the drama program singing show tunes and tap dancing my
way through life."
*****
An hour later, I had grabbed some food from Alik and was walking
into the Sneg Dvorec, backpack over my shoulder, with even more shame than
would normally come with the lie I was bound to make because of my sloppy
clothes.
I wasn't sure if I was lucky or not when I noticed that the helpful
receptionist, Dima, was gone, and in her place was a young man, much too
skinny to be a vampire but dressed formally. He said something in a soft
voice, as soft as Russian can sound, I suppose.
"Hi, I'm here as a part of the wait staff for tonight," I said in my
very American outfit.
"You are?" he glanced down at my clothes, clearly disgusted with the
wrinkles as much as I was.
"I'm here to work for Stasja," I said.
"Ah, okay," he said, and I knew that if I hadn't said her name, he
would have never led me through. "You know the way?"
"Of course," I said, walking to the right.
"Nope, the kitchen is to your left," said the man.
"I knew that, I just wanted to take the long way around so I could
admire this room's beautiful art."
I pretending to look at the sculptures, and then moved towards the
left side of the room, where there were three doors to choose from, and the
man at the desk was watching me carefully to see if I selected correctly.
I quickly realized that one of the doors was much smaller and had
less ornamentation that the other two, and figured that was most likely
meant to be the servants entrance. I selected this door, and got no
protestation from the man as I walked into the hallway beyond.
It didn't take much meandering before I came to the kitchens, a
large, hot room that was no frills and all about function. There was a
large number of staff working there. I quickly tried to just blend into
the other people working there.
"Excuse me, who are you?" said a woman as soon as I thought maybe I
had been sly enough not to be noticed. I turned to see an attractive woman
who was much too skinny talking to me.
"Jake Groves," I said. "I'm new here."
"Who exactly appointed you?" she asked with suspicion.
"Dima did," I said. "Are you Stasja?"
"Yes."
"Well, Dima hired me as your new server. Nice to meet you. Just
point me towards the diners, and I'll do my job."
"Well, Dima must have been misinformed, because we don't have any
openings here. We are fully staffed."
"Actually, Stasja, Aglaya just called in sick, so this fellow
probably was meant to take her place," said a man.
"Yes," I said, thanking Alik mentally for following through on his
promises. "That's right."
She looked me up and down. "I refuse to have someone that looks
like they just spent the night drunk in the train tracks interacting with
the Aristocracy. Nope, we'll just have to go without her role tonight, and
I can do her work myself to compensate. And new guy here, you can work the
kitchen tonight."
"If I do that tonight, and I press my uniform tomorrow, will you let
me advance?"
"Ha, listen to this new guy asking for a promotion after a single
day on the job. Impress me by working the kitchen for half a couple years,
then we'll talk." Obviously that plan would have me picked up and
slaughtered by Jericho before I ever even saw the Tsar with my own eyes,
and was totally out of the question. "Hope you're good at washing dishes."
"I'm a decent cook," I said. "Maybe make me a sous chef or
something."
"I want you to prove it to me by making an excellent salad.
Ingredients are over there."
She pointed to a quiet section of the kitchen where someone had
already put aside all sorts of vegetables.
I walked over to the counter, put down my bag, washed my hands, and
started to work, cutting down the lettuce and vegetables into salad size
pieces.
In my desperation, I reached into my pack and fished out my
emergency kit, which I liked to keep with me whenever I hiked. It
contained first aid items as well as all basic over the counter medication.
I found my laxative pills, and pulled them out.
The problem was, there was no way to grind them down, so I ended up
just hitting them with a mug, but that seemed to be drawing other kitchen
staff's attention, so I stopped.
That's when I saw the peppercorn grinder. I acted like I was
refilling it with fresh peppercorns, but in reality, I put the laxative
pills at the bottom of the peppercorns.
Just then, Stasja walked up from nowhere, grabbed the plate of
salad, and started to eat.
"Wait!" I said.
"What?"
"It needs fresh pepper. A lot of fresh pepper, in fact."
"Alright."
I ground the pepper grinder, and was hoping she wouldn't notice that
the pepper was curiously whiter than normal, but luckily, there was enough
real pepper mixed in to mask that.
She put the first piece of lettuce in her mouth. "Not bad." She
ended up eating the whole plate of salad. "Yes, you can assist the chefs
in the kitchen, that will be fine."
I felt bad drugging her, especially since she just appreciated my
salad, but I felt I didn't have any other choice.
An hour later, she was as white as a ghost and was holding her
stomach as she ran off to the bathroom. When she came back, she grabbed me
and pulled me aside. "New guy, why am I displaying signs of food poisoning
when all I've eaten was your salad? Please tell me you washed those
vegetables."
"I thought they were already washed," I lied.
"You idiot. Throw away all the salad, and throw away anything else
this guy has worked on. I have to go home, right now."
"Whose going to do your job?" asked one of the men.
"I don't care, I have to go, right now!"
She took off at a run out of the kitchen, presumably gone for the
night.
"Alright, everyone just continue like she's still here," said the
man, who perhaps was her assistant.
"Who will do Aglaya's job?"
"I'll do it!" I said.
"Yes, we have no other option for tonight, you can step up," said
the man. "But screw this up, and there will be serious consequences."
"I won't screw it up," I said.
I followed four other server types out of the kitchen and into a
beautiful dining room, filled with gorgeous vaulted ceilings and
ornamentation bursting in yellow hues and bright lamplight. A grand dining
room table was at the south side of the room, already set beautifully, and
the bussers were just putting the final touches on it. There was no sign
so far of any guests.
"Should I wait over by the table until the diners arrive?" I asked.
"Nope, you wait over here," said one of them.
They led me away from the table and over to the north side of the
room, where there was a fancy lounge area. Various chairs were placed
around, a bar was on the far side, and there were small tables that the
people I had walked in with were loading with hors d'oeuvres.
"Well, there you are," said one of the men, pointing at the bar.
"You want me to wait by the bar?"
"No, we want you to tend the bar."
"Uh, no, I'm supposed to be a food server."
"No, bartender."
"But I'm taking Aglaya's job."
"And Aglaya is and always has been a bartender. We have waiters up
to our ears. We only have one bartender, you, so either do that or do
nothing."
"Oh," I said, mentally cursing Alik for his mistake.
"You do know how to tend a bar, don't you?"
"Of course." I wasn't about to offer the fact that I was legally
underage in my home country.
As the other staff left me alone, I turned towards the bar. I gave
myself a thorough pep talk, reminding myself that I had watched enough of
Big Tom bartending in the Territory to know that everyone pretty much just
asked for either a whisky or a beer. I could do this.
My heart started to race as I walked behind the bar and looked at
all the dizzying number of bottles filled with mysterious liquids. I tried
to reason with myself that this was not the Territory, this was the
Carstvo, a place where the vampires were much more civilized than any of
the filthy cowboys I'd thankfully left behind. I'd probably mainly be
responsible for supplying people's non-alcoholic drinks during dinner.
I familiarized myself with the main essentials: the water, glasses,
ice in the freezer, juice and milk in the fridge, various sodas, there was
a coffeemaker, pre-brewed tea. I would be fine.
A few minutes later, there were shouts of, "He's arriving! They're
on their way in!" I wasn't sure who they were talking about, but
apparently everyone else was, as the serving staff ran around to make final
changes, and then ran out of the room entirely, leaving me by myself.
Just then, a handsome man who I knew was a vampire, a man who had
light blue eyes, came in with a beautiful woman, probably a vampire
herself, and a bit of an entourage of guards. Both members of the couple
were dressed exquisitely in period formalwear, with the bright colors of
her complementing those of the room.
The woman was wearing a fancy, European dress from the turn of the
century. Long gone were the horribly large, hoop skirts from that
civil-war era fashion that Giggles or Rose might have worn. The dresses
here were much more modern and becoming.
My eyes drifted to the attractive male, who had very pale skin and
matching blonde hair. He had a blonde moustache whose ends curled up,
though it didn't seem like he used wax on it. He wore the military dress
uniform of a late-nineteenth century high ranking officer, complete with a
fancy blue and grey coat with gold buttons and shoulder straps, and a
half-collar with showed off his upper neck muscles. He was wearing some
old-fashioned officers riding cap, dark blue, and a fancy sword on his
side. He had on black boots and grey military breeches that clang to
muscled lower body nicely, showing off his huge bulge. The whole outfit
was very majestic looking on him, and certainly denoted leadership.
So, this was the `he' they were referring to. Was he the Tsar
himself? If I happened across the Tsar, I wouldn't even need to worry
about getting anyone to sponsor me, I could just run right up and say what
needed to be said, and then be done with this Blood.
"Ah, here we are," said the male vampire. "Alright, darling, first
ones here. I told you we'd be early."
"You always make us late," said the woman.
"You sit down, and let me get you a drink."
He pulled her chair out for her, and she sat while he came over to
me at the bar.
"Good evening, chum," he said to me, sniffing the air happily as he
got close, perhaps detecting my rare AB negative bloodtype.
"Hello there," I said. "Would you happen to be the Tsar?" I asked.
He smiled, and I thought at first it was an affirmation, but then I
realized it was an amused smile. "Me? Are you kidding me? No, I'm not
the Tsar, chum. My name's Lord Leif Runeberg. I'm one of the five Heads
of Families that serve on the Aristocratic Ministerstvo here in the Sneg
Dvorec. I'm Swedish, but I my family leads the vampires in all of
Scandinavia."
As soon as he said it, I realized he and his wife hadn't spoken in a
Russian accent like everyone else, they had spoken in Swedish accents.
"Oh, nice to meet you, I'm Jake Groves. Is the Tsar coming to this
dinner?" I asked hopefully.
He laughed again. "Sorry, chum, the last time the Tsar came to the
Sneg Dvorec was years and years ago."
"Oh, I see," I said, trying not to sound too disappointed. So, I'd
surely have to get someone to sponsor me after all.
"Would you be so kind as to get a rosé for my wife?" he asked.
"Sure."
I knew that was pink wine. I quickly grabbed a spare wine glass and
looked through the wines, but most of the bottles weren't fully see
through, so there wasn't any indication what color they were, and none of
them were labeled "rosé." I ended up having to open a red wine, pour
half a glass, then open a white, and pour a second half, and give him the
result, luckily without him seeing.
"And can you get me a screwdriver as well?"
"Uh, okay."
I looked at the many, many bottles on alcohol, hoping one would have
"screwdriver" on it. But nothing popped out.
"If the orange juice isn't totally fresh, you can just give me a
straight vodka on the rocks."
"No, it's fresh," I said, thankful for the further instruction.
I put ice in a glass, found OJ in the frig, poured it in, and then
found some vodka and added that too.
"Thanks," he said, leaving with two drinks in his hands.
Another couple entered, the man another good looking,
light-blue-eyed vampire, and the woman who held his arm was a fiftyish,
larger woman, obviously a human. Both were dressed very well, with the man
again wearing a fetching military dress uniform, but this one was
completely different in color and design than the Swedish man's was. They
came in, said hello to Lord and Lady Runeberg and sat nearby them. I heard
one of the wait staff refer to him as Lord Renzo Giordano, and one listen
to the couple's accents told me they were Italian.
Renzo was dark haired, gorgeous, and had thick, very period-shaped
sideburns. His cream- colored military suit covered a formidable body,
with tight-fitting pants, upturned collars in his jacket that touched his
ears, and light-colored hat decorated with a large plume of hanging black
feathers.
A rather morose looking couple entered next, leaving their guards
and coats at the door. Both of them were dressed gorgeously, and the man
clearly was a Petrov Blood vampire with those signature light blue eyes
again. She was gorgeous enough to be a vampire, but she was eastern Asian
in ethnicity (the only non-white person I had seen) and her eyes were dark.
The two of them came straight for the bar, totally ignoring the
others at the table.
"Not the yellow dining room again," said the woman to the man whose
arm she held. Her accent was slightly different than the others, not quite
Russian but something very similar. "I hate this place. It's got all the
class of a clogged urinal."
"Language, Gala, language." He spoke with a very proper English
accent, probably representing England or Great Britain. He too wore a
military outfit, this one looking more British in design than the others: a
scarlet tunic, with shoulder straps, and black helmet bearing a regimental
badge. He removed his helmet, and his hair was rusty and long, pulled into
a neat pony tail.
"Why can't we have the dinners at our own palace?" she asked. "It's
so much classier than this whole dump of an ancient building."
"Traditions, Gala. There's something to be said for them."
"Screw traditions, Edmund," she said.
"I'm sure this young man here really wants to hear your bad
language, Gala."
"Oh, no, it's perfectly fine," I said.
"See?" Gala said.
"Well, he's paid to be polite to us."
"No, I really, really don't mind. I've heard far worse."
"Oh, listen to his accent, Edmund!"
I felt hot, angry at myself for not being able to mask my accent.
"American, is it?" asked Edmund, and I nodded.
"See?" asked Gala, hitting him. "I told you it's all the trend now
to hire exotic help, from outside Russia. I heard the Runeberg's even have
a new butler from Honduras! We can't always be the last one at the party,
Edmund, we have to get one. How would you like to work for the Woodville
Palace itself?"
"It sounds delightful," I said.
"This one is pleasant enough," said Edmund. "Impress us through the
night and I might consider stealing you away to our palace and doubling
your salary in the process, kind American!"
"Oh, that's very kind of you, sir," I said with a smile, hoping it
might lead me towards getting sponsored.
"Wait a second, where's Lorna gone to?" asked Edmund, looking
around.
"She just stopped into the ladies room on the way here," said Gala.
"Oh great, the one place I can't go chasing after her. You have to
go help her, Gala."
Gala rolled her eyes. "Alright, alright, I'll do it."
She stormed off through the entrance, and Edmund sat down at the
table.
Another man came in, who was so good looking I of course assumed he
was a vampire, before I noticed he was wearing eyeglasses. He was dressed
less formally than the others in what looked like an old suit, he greeted
the others politely, calling Edmund Mr. Woodville as he did, and then came
over to the bar.
"Can I get you a drink?" I asked.
"Let me decide what," he said. He seemed a bit quieter than the
others, so I decided to try and pull him out of his shell. He also seemed
comparatively like a bit of a nerd. His suit and tie had the look of a
math professor's, his glasses were thick and owl like, his light brown hair
could have used a haircut, and his face a shave. But I thought it was all
endearing on him.
"Hi, I'm Jake Groves, a new bartender here."
"Günter Herzog, head of the Herzog family." Yes, that settled
it, it wasn't a Russian accent I detected on him, it was a German one.
"You're the only one here who didn't bring a significant other."
"I'm married to my work," he said tersely.
"Oh, you mean serving on this group?"
"No, my other job. I'm a physician, and my employment keeps me
maddeningly occupied, I'm afraid. But I've survived without a spouse for
over a hundred years. I think I'll make do."
"Oh, when I saw your glasses, I assumed you were human."
"My glasses really serve as goggles to protect my eyes from
contamination in my line of work. I spend far too much time in my lab, I'm
afraid. I've become so accustomed to them I rarely take them off."
I figured Günter was as close to Parker as one could get in the
Petrov Blood, and that made me attracted to him.
"I'll have a glass of your finest Chardonnay," he said.
"Oh, okay," I said.
I grabbed a wine glass and looked around for the wine bottles.
There were dozens of them. I started frantically reading all the labels,
but not coming across anything like it.
"Wouldn't the white wines be chilled?" he asked.
"Right," I said.
There was a cooler that held all of the white wines, and I opened it
up, trying to fine the Chardonnays. There turned out to be six different
bottles of the stuff. I grabbed one and pulled it out.
"Is that your best Chardonnay?" he asked me. "I really couldn't
care less about wine, but Maxim gets mad if he thinks my wine is
inadequate."
"By far," I lied.
I pulled out the cork and started to pour.
"Shouldn't you be opening a fresh bottle of it for me now?" he
asked.
"Oh, well, typically, sure. But I just opened this one a couple
minutes ago, so it's fresh." I hated lying, especially to someone who I
was attracted to, but what else could I do?
"Thanks," he said, walking back towards the table with his wine.
Another single vampire male came in. Olive skin and handsome face,
he wore another military dress uniform, this one containing a dark blue
tunic going down to his hips, very fancy epaulettes on his shoulders, a
stand-up collar, a kepi with a feather plume (which he removed as he came
into the room), with tight-fitting light blue trousers, and his jacket
pulled open just above his crotch, showing off a sexy bulge in his pants.
He had a black moustache, and seemed rather intimidating. He greeted the
others and then walked over to the bar, looking down at handwritten notes
in a folder he held open in his arms. He approached the bar without ever
looking up from his papers.
"Can I get you drink?"
He looked up at me, and then seemed surprised. At the same time,
his fangs popped out, which I didn't even think he knew happened. "You're
new here, aren't you?" he asked, speaking with a Greek accent. "You look
and sound, and, um, smell nothing like our usual bartender. Are you
American?"
"Yes. I'm Jake Groves."
"Lord Vasos Spiros," he said. "Head of the Spiros family in Greece,
but also the appointed leader of the Ministerstvo. I know that probably
doesn't mean much to you, but the best way you'd understand it is if I told
you I'm sort of the chief justice of the Petrov Blood, the legal authority
here."
"Oh, okay, so the Cornelius of this Blood." And in fact, he had the
formal air and stature of Cornelius, and seemed just as dryly incapable of
smiling, but this man was much more handsome than the Logan vampire was.
"Sorry, of course you wouldn't know what that means."
He gulped. "Cornelius, yes, of the Logan Blood. That's exactly who
I am. I know Cornelius, we worked together on a scholarly matter some
years back that sadly led nowhere. Are you from the Logan Blood?"
"Nope, I know the Logan Blood, but I'm definitely not one of those."
"Oh, good," he said. "That means that we can legally still make
claims on you. With your acquiescence, of course."
I thought of perhaps coming clean with this man and telling him that
I was the One. But being open about that fact sure hadn't seemed to help
me much in surviving unscathed in the Logan Blood. I figured it might be
wiser this time to not advertise that fact about myself. I'd wait to tell
people here until I really trusted them.
"Oh, thanks," I said simply instead of telling him more about
myself. "Can I get you a drink?"
"Martini, please."
"Oh, right, of course."
I grabbed a glass and glanced at the alcohol. About all I knew
about a Martini was that it was shaken, not stirred, and was served with an
olive. I gathered by the fact that it could be shaken or stirred that it
must have included several different substances mixed together, surely
types of alcohol. And I also remembered that it was clear, so I'd just
have to find some combination of clear alcohols and mix them together.
I scanned the bottles until I came to one that had gin. Somehow,
that sounded right, so I poured some in the shaker I found. And then I
found some vodka, and put that in as well.
The next clear alcohol I saw was rum, so I put that in. And lastly,
I found a clear variety of schnapps, peach flavored, and poured that in
too. I shook it vigorously, poured it in the glass, and found an olive
from the fridge and threw that in too.
"Here you are," I said, handing Vasos his drink.
"Thank you." He took a sip of the drink, and then quickly spit it
back into the cup. "This tastes way too sweet. Are you sure you're a
bartender?"
"Yes! It's the newest way everyone is making martinis now, trust
me."
"Hmm," he said, taking another sip as he walked back towards the
table.
Another man entered, leaving the largest entourage yet at the door.
The light-blue-eyed vampire wasn't with a date, and quickly removed his
very imperial Russian, fur-trimmed coat as he came in. He was brown
haired, with a nice haircut and an in-control beard. He was wearing the
fanciest non-military period suit I had ever seen, making him look very
attractive, and the suit, layered though it was, still showed off his
powerful muscles. He was wearing a black fur cap, also very Russian
looking. He walked over to the table, all huge smiles. He seemed to know
everyone there, and he hugged each of them one at a time as all of them
stood up to great him. He seemed to generally care a great deal about
them, and the guests responded in kind, showing warmth that wasn't given to
anyone else before he arrived.
A bit after talking and joking with the guests, he came over to me,
all smiles.
"I see a new, handsome face over here," said the boisterously
friendly newcomer, his voice deep, gravelly, and Russian-accented, making
him sound much older than his physical appearance. "Welcome to Sneg
Dvorec, my friend. Are you a hugger or a shaker?"
"Uh, whichever you are, sir."
"A hugger, and you can just leave the sir business at the door," he
said, using his tall frame to lean over the bar and give me a warm, but
masculine, hug. "Wow, and you're the best smelling bartender I've ever
hugged, and believe me, there's been a whole bunch of those."
"Oh, thanks."
Still hugging me, he said, "What's your name, friend?"
"Jake Groves."
"Jake, very smart name, that one. I'm Maxim."
"Maxim what?"
"Maxim Petrov."
"Petrov, as in the Petrov Blood?"
"Yup. You're currently hugging the only living heir to the Tsar, or
what we call the Knyaz here."
"So, are you serving as one of the house leads in the, um, the..."
"... the Ministerstvo?"
"Yes."
"Anytime you need me to help make sense of all of these crazy Petrov
words, just let me know. It's all a bunch of hooey, if you ask me.
Anyway, nope, not exactly."
He pointed towards the table, pulling away from our hug.
"You see those five men?"
"Yes."
"They alone make up the Ministerstvo, and I'm not even technically a
voting party here. But the Tsar's supposed to appoint which member of the
each house will be in his Ministerstvo, and he also is supposed to provide
guidance and direction to the group."
"But you're not the Tsar yet," I said.
"Ouch, is that supposed to be a snide joke at my expense?"
"Umm..."
"Because if it is, bring it on. I love men who have the balls to
cut me down when my ego is at its peak, and especially if they do it while
making me laugh. Hell, I got the biggest balls of them all, so I set a
high standard for the rest of you." He made a big belly laugh and hit me
on the shoulder. "Anyway, so I'm not the Tsar yet, but my father can't
stand this palace or anything to do with the Ministerstvo. And since the
only thing he can't stand even more than these powerful men is my laughing
face, he assigned me to lead this group in his stead."
"I see, and where is the Tsar located?"
"I'm really not supposed to say," he said. "He likes to keep a low
profile. But I've been long banished from seeing him."
I was very disappointed, as I realized that neither hanging around
the Sneg Dvorec or trying to make friends with Maxim would ever result in
me meeting the Tsar. "What would you like to drink?"
"I'll have a glass of AB Neg. I mean, sorry, a glass of Cabernet.
That was a total slip on my part, apologies."
"No, it's fine," I said.
I grabbed another wine glass and looked through the wine bottles
until I found his type, poured it, and gave him the glass.
He took a sip without looking at it, and then looked surprised.
"This isn't Cabernet," he said, smiling. "Are you trying to pull a fast
one on me?"
"Yes it is."
"No, it's Cabernet Sauvignon, friend."
"Oh, is there a difference?"
"Indeed. I'd drink this, but I've never had a taste for white. I
like the full body of a red."
"Oh, right, let me get you a new one."
I grabbed a clean glass and turned towards the red wines this time,
but was stymied when I saw how many different bottles of Cabernet there
were to choose from.
"I'd like a bottle of one of these," whispered a voice in my ear,
and at the same time, I felt a very solid body press against me from
behind. I realized Maxim must have either hopped over or walked around the
bar and now was plastered behind me.
"This one?"
"No, one of the unopened ones, please," he said, using his right arm
to direct my right arm towards one of the new bottles. "You don't have a
lot of experience at this, do you?"
"Okay, you caught me," I said, not wanting to challenge a man that
was so close to me.
"Let's make that our little secret," he whispered.
"Thanks, Maxim, I owe you."
"As delicious as that sounds, no, you don't."
He had me grab a corkscrew from the counter, still pushing against
the back of me, using my body almost as a puppet.
"Don't turn the corkscrew too hard, or you'll end up with cork in
the wine." His voice had gone from big and boisterous to mild and
seductive.
"Ah, okay."
He used his hand on my fingers to twist the corkscrew into the
bottle, and I could feel his weight against me from behind, feel the weight
of his package against my butt, and it was even making me start to get
hard.
"And now, pull the cork out, like so," he said, helping me.
I moved the bottle towards the glass and started to pour.
"Just give me a little at first, so I can approve it."
He picked up the small bit of wine I had poured him and raised it to
his nose, which was pressed against my right cheek. He took a big long
sniff, and I wasn't sure if it was the wine or me that he was smelling.
"Yes, smells good."
And then he lifted it to his lips and took a taste, in the process
splashing a little on my neck.
"Oops, let me get that," he said, licking the wine off my neck
sexily, with a smile. "Mmm, wine is perfect. I'll commit to a full
glass."
I poured him one and next thing I knew he was walking back towards
the table. As soon as he was back, he quickly became the life of the
gathering, and waiters came in to take people's dinner orders. Dr. Herzog
was the only one to decline dinner, saying he had already eaten.
After he ordered, Maxim left the table and came trotting over to me.
"Okay, so don't judge me, but I'm already out of tonight's first drink."
"You do what you want; vampires neither get hangovers nor suffer any
long term consequences to chemical indulgences."
"Indeed. Of course, this is when you try to figure out if I'm just
a lush, or if I'm purposely downing my drinks at a rabbit's pace just so I
can have an excuse to get acquainted more with my new bartender friend Jake
Groves, because either way my lips are sealed."
"Sealed until you get another stiff drink on your lips."
"Quite so. Though really I just think it gets you going to put the
words `stiff' and `lips' so close together in a sentence."
"Or maybe you're just confusing my brain with your own, Maxim."
"You got me there. All I have to do is stare at your very fine lips
and say the word `stiff' in my head, and I'm afraid all sorts of fun little
thoughts run through my head, and make that stiffness a rather painful
reality."
I laughed. "What kind of drink do you want?"
"I'll take a long island ice tea."
"Right, let me get the iced tea out."
"Uh, you know what? That might be the hardest drink in the world
for you to muster, and you don't want to have to suffer through any of my
word-puns regarding the word `hard.' So, scratch that drink, and just make
me a vodka and tonic."
"You don't know how much I love it when people order drinks that are
clever enough to have their ingredients listed in their titles."
As I pulled out a bottle of tonic from the fridge, he said, "So,
something tells me you're not of Russian origin."
"No, I don't have a Russian bone in my body."
"Well, if you ever want to rectify that, you know where to find me.
Just kidding, of course. Well, perhaps."
I could see Asian Gala re-enter the room finally, this time pulling
in another woman with her.
Edmund got out of his seat and walked towards them. "Ah, Lorna,
there you are."
"Yes, Daddy," she said.
I could see Maxim freeze up as he looked at me, and he reached over
the bar and pulled me to his face. "Can you see the new woman that just
walked in?" he asked me.
"Yes."
"I'm engaged to marry her, but I've never met or spoken to her, or
even seen a picture of her."
I felt a little pang of something. Disappointment, perhaps. "Oh
my, that's quite a predicament."
"I'm afraid to look at her. Tell me about the face I'll be looking
into for the next few hundred years."
I looked the woman, Lorna, up and down. "I hope you have a thing
for plus-size models."
"I've never been overly attracted to the bean-pole look on women, or
men, for that matter. If she's got some meat on her bones, that's all the
better."
"Oh, she has some meat, and a whole lot of lard too. She has like
three chins."
"Really?"
"And her face is painfully plain. And it looks like she prefers to
shave her head bald. She seems quite extreme, in fact. Plus, what's
that?"
"What? Tell me."
"It looks like she's missing a boob. Maybe she had it removed so
she could improve her archery scores, who knows?"
"Please, stop describing her already."
"So, are you going to break it off?"
"You know what? I don't care what she looks like, as long as I can
find something in her personality that I can fall in love with, I'll be the
luckiest dog alive." I was rather touched by this sentiment.
"Well, you might even be a luckier dog still," I said. "Because I
was totally just pulling your leg just then."
"Huh? What do you mean? What exactly where were you pulling of
mine, and could you pull it again, harder this time?" He wasn't getting
the English phrase.
"I was kidding."
"About the shaved head thing?"
"No, about it all."
"Well, tell me really what she looks like."
"She's just about the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," I said.
"Blonde, tall, curvy, and absolutely splendid in pink."
"Are you sure you're not yanking my dick again, Jake?"
"The phrase is `pulling your leg.' And I'm being totally honest
with you."
"Hot dog, I could hug you! Actually, I AM going to hug you!" He
reached over the bar and hugged me happily, patting me on the back.
He pulled back and looked at me as he adjusted his suit.
"How do I look?"
"You look good."
He took a sip out of the drink I had made him, and looked surprised.
"Whoa, that's like ninety percent vodka in there."
"Sorry, I must have gotten a little distracted when I made it, I can
make you a new one."
"Nope, this is actually just how I like them."
He raised his glass to me, and then turned around.
"Maxim, oh Maxim!" said Edmund. "This is my daughter, Lorna."
"So pleased to meet you," he said, kissing her hand.
"Oh, yes," she said.
"Would you like to sit by me at the table?" Maxim asked.
"Daddy?" Lorna asked Edmund.
"Yes, that's fine, Lorna."
She nodded and sat next to Maxim, and the others sat down again as
well, and the chatter became hard to distinguish from where I was standing.
A bit later, Lorna suddenly stood up and walked towards me. Maxim
stood up, confused that she had pulled herself out of their conversation
without a warning.
"It's okay, Maxim, you keep sitting, I'll see what she needs," said
Edmund, who got up and followed his daughter over to my end of the room.
She planted herself next to one of the hours d'oeuvres tables and
started gulping down food.
"What did I tell you about eating too much cheese, Lorna?" said
Edmund as he grabbed the cheese from her hand. "It will ruin your pretty
figure."
"But I'm hungry, Daddy."
"Save room for dinner."
"Yes, Daddy."
"Do you want a drink in the meantime?"
"Yes, Daddy."
"Just tell this man what you want and he'll get it for you."
"Yes, Daddy."
"Just please don't get her any alcohol," he said to me before
returning to the table.
"Hi Lorna, I'm Jake Groves," I said.
"Hi."
"Lorna, I hope you're not too young to drink," I said, suddenly
worried that a minor would be married off to an adult. "How old are you?"
"Twenty." That proved my suspicion wrong, and she didn't actually
look like a teenager. Perhaps her father didn't want her drinking until
she was twenty-one. "Can I have a lemonade?"
"Yes, of course."
I got her the drink, and she took it over to the table.
*****
After dinner, Leif Runeberg's wife suggested the women should leave
as the men surely had business to attend to, which although to me sounded
like the kind of comment that would never have survived past the sixties,
no one bothered to disagree with her, and soon all the wives, girlfriends,
and daughters were shaking each other's hands, putting on their fancy
winter coats, and leaving the building for the evening.
Once the men were by themselves, they continued to sit at the table
as Vasos passed around reports he had been carrying in his folder that
whole time. A rather boring report out from him about taxes segued into a
more interesting topic about border concerns with the Zhao Blood over
Mongolia, but just when I perked up my ears for the first time, Vasos
stopped his report out suddenly and gave a subtle glance in my direction.
"Perhaps this is a conversation best saved for a later time," he
said.
"Right, let's not waste any more time on dull work affairs when the
night is still young," said Maxim.
And though I was sure boredom was the furthest reason Vasos had for
not wanting to continue, no one disagreed when Maxim suggested everyone
move into the lounge part of the room, closer to my bar, where there were
much more comfortable seating. It was interesting how much of a host role
Maxim had, as he boisterously kept the conversation going between the six
men, using his humor to even pull out a polite laugh from quiet
Dr. Günter Herzog. Soon, Maxim had all of them except for Günter
smoking pipes, and though the smoke was annoying to me, I at least was
thankful I would not be getting cancer from any of it.
"Vasos, do you think the always lovely Praskovia would like to join
us for a dance? Is she around and interested in coming?"
"I'll see," Vasos said.
"If she is, men, this one is on me," said Maxim, and Vasos whisked
out the door.
While we were waiting, Edmund Woodville came over and said to me,
"Black Russian?"
"Uh, no, you had it right before, I'm a black American."
"No, I mean, could you make me a Black Russian? Black Russian here
not being a person but the Kahlua drink?"
"Oh right, of course," I said, even though I had no idea what he was
talking about. "I just figured here in Russia you guys would probably just
order a `Black.'"
I started to make him his drink, put Kahlua over ice, and then
looked down at the drink. I certainly had the Black covered, now I just
had to figure out about the Russian part of the drink.
I reached for the vodka, hoping my reasoning would be correct, and
then handed him the finished creation.
"I wasn't kidding about that offer to bartend at my home," he said
to me after sipping his drink to great satisfaction.
"And all you had in mind was me bartending?" I asked, hoping
bartenders weren't ever expected to do anything uncouth.
"Look, it's no secret that the fanged vampires here will all find
you to have a certain allure, certainly part of which has to do with your
physical attraction. And, as a bartender, I would ask that you provide a
warm ear to any of our guests, but that's all that is expected of you. Let
me ask you a personal question. Are you single, Jake? What I mean is, are
you available?"
"Yes," I said.
"Splendid. That will arouse all sorts of interest in you. And I
want to make one thing very clear: I'm in no way asking you to engage in
any romantic or sexual liaisons with the men you will be bartending for at
my home. Prostitution is, of course, totally illegal in the Carstvo."
"And I wouldn't let myself be bought for sex," I said, already
feeling like this Blood was so much more civilized than the Logan Blood had
been.
"Of course not," he said. "But let me tell you something else. If
you should choose to have sexual liaisons with the men at my home, of
course without any monetary gain, it will be in no way frowned upon by
anyone there." From his tone of voice, he seemed to be implying that just
the opposite would be true, and that creeped me out. "So, how about it,
should I consider you hired?"
"I'm still not sure," I said, worried that accepting a bartending
job would get me in trouble here, and wondering if I could negotiate some
other kind of employment.
"Oh, I know exactly what you're hesitant about. You think that
because of your particular blood type, that vampire gentlemen will be all
over you, unable to control themselves. Let me assure you, my home is no
stranger to AB negative people just like you, Jake. In fact, I'm known as
something of a connoisseur of AB negative. My last two wives, now
deceased, were both of that particular leaning, and I searched far and wide
to find them. Now, Gala, who I found in the Ukraine, will likely be my
third consecutive wife of that blood type, and Lorna is in the same boat.
And I used to have an AB negative butler. Let me assure you, you would be
of the utmost safety in my hands." He handed me his card. "Please contact
me if you ever do want to accept my offer."
"I'll keep that in mind, thanks."
"Ah, the entertainment has arrived," said Edmund, and saw that
Vasos was ushering a woman who looked perhaps in her late thirties, clearly
a human, through the door.
"A ballet dancer?" I asked, noticing her outfit and ballet slippers,
trying to push out of my mind unpleasant similarities the outfit was making
with Giggles.
"Indeed," said Edmund. "Praskovia was quite something in her
younger days, performing for the very exclusive Krasnyj Sneg Ballet. She
hasn't aged well, I'm afraid, and has long been cast out of that company.
But she still gets a real kick out of putting on private performances."
Edmund carried his drink back to his chair and sat down in the
lounge chairs with the other men. After Maxim greeted Praskovia
thoroughly, she walked over to a gramophone in the corner of the room and
started a symphonic track.
Praskovia started to dance, and although it was beautiful, there was
something slightly off about it, as if she lacked confidence somehow. As
she approached the peak of her routine, she stopped suddenly. "Alright,
men, that's all you are getting for tonight," she said.
"Please go on!" said Leif Runeberg.
"Yes, all of my brothers here and I would love if you continued,"
said Maxim. "I'll double your payment."
"But I'm so sick of all this money," she said.
"Is there something else you'd prefer to have?" he asked.
"Oh, you know there is, Maxim. You know what I live for."
"Well, I do believe you may be referring to these," he said, his
fangs popping out on cue.
"Oooo, yes," she said, mesmerized by his fangs. "Give me the bite,
Maxim. You know it's what I need."
She walked over to him and straddled his lap on his chair, putting
her neck against his lips.
"Oh my, you are irresistible.," he pulled his gaze away from her
neck to my bar. "Jake, don't think your job requires you to stay here now.
If you'd rather not see any of this, please leave."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"Are you sure you want me to do this to you?" he asked her again.
"Yes, so very sure," she said. "Do it, do it, go!"
As she shut her eyes, he bit into her neck, and she moaned in
ecstasy as he tasted her, her hands running excitedly over his clothes.
"Oh yes, that's what I need."
He only fed for a moment, and then he pulled back, long before he
would have gotten enough to satisfy his daily blood requirement.
"Delicious, my gentlewoman."
"Don't stop so soon!" she urged.
"If you don't mind, I'd like you to share your taste with my
brothers here," he said as he nodded to the five other men.
"Yes, let them all have their fill," she said.
"Do you want me to close your wound up?"
"No, I want all of you to be able to smell me," she said, and then
left Maxim's lap.
She walked over to Vasos next, sitting on his lap as well and
pulling his mouth towards her wound. He moaned as he drank, and then when
he stopped, she moved on to Dr. Herzog, who quickly brushed her off.
She moved instead to Edmund, and he waved her along as well. "Lord
Woodville, you may have always kept your pants on in my presence for fear
of being indecent, but you never before refused my blood. What's going
on?"
"It's no reflection on you, madam. It's just that Gala is now in my
life, and the two of us have entered an exclusivity pact. I've sworn not
to, you know..."
"Hump anyone else?"
"Exactly. And I believe drinking blood only leads to that activity.
So I've decided to abstain."
She moved on to Leif Runeberg and as she sat on his lap, as he bit
into her, it seemed to me from where I was sitting that she put her hand
into the fly of his uniform pants, and wife or not, he did nothing to stop
her as she started to pleasure him, her hands moving all over his huge
bulge.
I felt like I was intruding, and all the vampires were in lust over
this woman, much too preoccupied to ask me for any drink. So I left the
bar and went through the halls until I found a very fancy men's room, and I
took the opportunity to visit the urinal.
Before my urine could ever hit porcelain, the bathroom door burst
open and Vasos walked in, looking at me with authority. The first time I
had seen Vasos up close, I could make out a lump in his pants, which made
me realize how hung he was. Aside from Günter, all the other vampire
men there wore tight-fitting pants or breeches and no underwear, the
perfect combination for showing off their packages. But this time,
something had changed for Vasos. His dick had gone hard, and I could see
the huge shape of it snaking down his left pants leg. "I thought I heard
voices from outside. Who were you just talking to?"
"You didn't hear voices in here, it must have been from somewhere
else," I responded. "It's just me in here."
Vasos perhaps thought I wouldn't notice as he very subtly looked
around the bathroom for signs anyone else was there. "What are you doing
in here?"
"I'm urinating. I hope that's permissible. Or should I have used a
servant's bathroom?"
"No, no, go right ahead."
"What are YOU doing here?" I asked.
"Well, I came, to you know, relieve myself as well."
"Well, go right ahead."
He briefly looked like he was headed towards one of the stalls,
which wouldn't have made any sense at all. And then he seemed to come to
the same conclusion as he changed course and walked towards the second
urinal right by my one.
There wasn't any divider between us, so I watched as he unbuttoned
the fancy fly of his uniform pants and started to reach inside. And then
he seemed to notice me watching him, and he tilted away from me, ruining my
view.
But it was clear to me that he used quite a bit of energy removing
his unit from his pants just by the movements he was making with his arms.
After a half minute of just standing there holding himself without pissing,
I asked, "Are you sure you have to go?"
"Yes, sure."
"Do you want me to run some water for you?"
"Not needed," he said. "Look, the truth is, I'm a little worked up
from my encounter out there with the dancer and it's making it hard to
perform. Just give me a second."
I finished my own piss and zipped up. By the time I moved over to
wash my hands, his dick must have deflated, because I could hear the piss
going. As I washed my hands, I could see in the mirror him holding his
mostly soft unit with both hands, directing the urine towards the
porcelain, though the light trickle of the stream made me wonder if he
really had to go or if he had some other reason for joining me in the
bathroom.
I barely had time to look, but it seemed to me that his dick was
darn impressive, a hefty, uncut snake, dark olive in color.
"Alright, Vasos," I said as I made my way towards the exit.
"Where are you off to?"
"Back to the lounge."
"Do you have to go so soon?"
"Why, is there some good reason for me to stay in here?"
"I suppose not. Well, hold on, I'll walk you back like a gentleman
should."
He shook off his dick as he threw in the towel at his paltry attempt
at a piss, and washed his hands.
He said nothing to me as he followed me into the lounge, holding the
doors open for me as we went.
Praskovia was being bitten/pleasuring the Italian vampire, and I
went back towards the bar, but stopped short when I saw Maxim and Edmund
leaning against the bar, chatting, and I listened to their conversation.
"All I'm saying is, certainly you didn't let us have two words to
each other before you took her away," Maxim was saying. "I honestly know
more about the new bartender here than I do about the woman I am required
to marry in three months. I do hope before then you'll rectify my
concerns."
"You know all you need to know about her, Maxim. She's physically
more than you could ever ask for, beautiful, curvy, and AB negative blood.
That's all that really matters to men like us. To top it all off, she's a
virgin, which means you are free to completely devour her without fear of
infection."
"I'm not unpleased with her physical attributes. It's her
personality that remains a mystery. All I'm asking is that you help me end
that mystery."
"She doesn't have any sexual experience, and would likely be
appalled by the whole thing, but she can be easily bullied into serving
your body as you need her to, I'm sure."
"If you think that telling me about how she behaves in bed
sufficiently satisfies my curiosity about her personality, I'm afraid
you'll be quite disappointed."
"Well, frankly, if you wanted time to get to know her before the
marriage, you should have made that a part of the explicitly negotiated
contract language that both you and your father signed."
"My mistake, I suppose, for assuming that getting to know the person
I'd be tied to for eternity would be an obvious prerequisite. Don't
forget, I never wanted to get married to anyone if it wasn't out of love
anyway."
"But you made the deal to marry my one heir as a part of a deal you
made with your father to let you take over sponsoring the Ministerstvo from
him."
"I did that for the good of my people, Edmund, not out of personal
gain."
"Whatever your motivations were, you signed a contract. And all
that needs to be upheld by my part is to bring her to her wedding."
"If that's how it's going to be, don't expect the two of us to
consummate our relationship beyond the required `kiss the bride' part until
we actually have feelings for each other."
"Need I remind you the footnote in the contract I had put in? The
two of you are required to consummate the marriage the very night of the
wedding, and then again at least five different times a day, with you
climaxing inside her each time until there is evidence in my hand that she
is pregnant. And then the second she's not pregnant again, the pace of
that intercourse shall resume until I have at least three healthy heirs.
That part is absolutely non-negotiable."
"How do you expect me to perform sexually for someone I only just
met and have no feelings for?"
"If you're unable to perform sexually, Maxim, I'll have Dr. Herzog
prescribe you something for that."
"That's really not necessary."
"Besides, I've seen you perform in that department plenty of times
before with total strangers, so that argument just won't work with me."
"Please don't say another word, I don't want to fight with my future
father-in-law. All I'm asking is that in the next couple days you think
about my request, think about if there's any way you'll let me see her,
even briefly, before the wedding."
"I'll think about it, and there's nothing else I can promise. And
if that's all, I'm taking my leave for the evening. Gentlemen."
Edmund left the place, Maxim went back to his seat, and I walked
behind the bar, still fuming about what I just had heard. I could not
believe that the man that I had at first assumed was an English gentleman
was basically pimping his own daughter out in that manner. I felt awful
for her, and for Maxim too.
Vasos arrived at the bar, and his stern face added to my
unhappiness. "I'd like another drink," he said.
"Sure," I said. "Want the same as before?"
"No, this time, I'd like a Cosmopolitan. As a bartender, you should
be well versed with that drink, correct?"
"Of course," I said.
I filled a new glass with ice and looked at the alcohol, knowing it
was once again a guessing game since I had no clue what was in a
Cosmopolitan or even what color the drink was.
Since I knew where I was located, I grabbed the vodka and poured
some of that in the glass.
I figured there might be other types of alcohol mixed in, so I
grabbed the first two bottles nearest to me and put some of each in.
Triple sec and tequila, I realized, as I handed Vasos the concoction.
I watched him carefully as he took a sip of my creation and then
spit it out dramatically.
"This is the most botched cocktail I have ever been served," he
said.
"Hey, that's just how Cosmopolitans are made these days, it's the
new trend."
"I will absolutely not fall for that line again. Staff! STAFF!"
The guy that had taken on the lead kitchen role came rushing into
the room.
"I want this imposter removed from the payroll immediately, escorted
outside, and never permitted entrance again."
"Yes, sir," said the man, who started to grab me by the arm and pull
me towards the door.
Just before he pulled me out of sight, Maxim stood up out of his
seat. "Hold on, what's going on here?" he asked.
"Maxim, this man's supposed claim of being a bartender was a
complete fraud," Vasos said. "I'm having him removed and banished from the
premises."
"What evidence do you have that he's a fraud?" asked Maxim.
"He's destroyed both drink orders I've made. Clearly he knows
almost nothing."
"He's just a little green, Vasos," he said. "Give the new guy a
chance to learn, for godssake, before kicking him out on his heiney like
this."
"Maxim, I'm afraid not. I just don't trust him."
"Well, I believe this palace technically belongs to the royal
family. And therefore it's technically my decision if he is let go."
Vasos looked upset. "Maxim, I can't believe you're getting down to
the technicalities here," he said. "You've never concerned yourself before
with any of this."
"I never felt like any decisions you made here were wrong until
right now," Maxim said.
"Fine, I suppose it's your decision," Vasos said.
"Oh, don't get all bent out of shape about this," Maxim said to
Vasos. "We're just giving a friendly, inexperienced, kind-faced fellow
some room to learn, that's all that we're doing, okay, Vasos?" Maxim
reached out and gave him a friendly grab of his shoulders.
"Yes, okay, Maxim," he said, but when Maxim went back to his seat, I
wasn't sure how reassured Vasos was.
*****
Vasos was the last of the vampires to leave that evening. Just as I
was about to leave the bar and go back to the kitchens to get my things, he
asked, "Is it your intention to bartend here again tomorrow?"
"I guess so."
"I see." He sure didn't sound pleased. Just as I was about to
leave the room, he asked, "Where are you staying the night? Do you have
some permanent dwelling in this city?"
"No, I was just going to stay with a friend," I said. "Well, friend
isn't exactly the right word."
"A spouse or lover?"
"No, thank goodness. Just someone who has more of a business
relationship with me than anything else."
"Who is it?"
"I'd rather not say," I said, not wanting to get Alik in any
trouble.
"Well, why don't you come stay with me at my manor?"
"Are you serious?" I asked. "I thought you hated me."
"Well, for the time being, you'll be working in my palace of
employment. As long as you work here, I'd prefer to know you were being
looked after."
"Sure," I said, knowing that staying with Alik would feel like an
imposition on him, and certainly wouldn't help me with my goal of meeting
the Tsar. "Let me just get my bag and I'll be ready to join you."
"Can't you just leave your things here?" he asked.
"I have all my clothes in there."
"You can have some of my clothes, I have plenty."
"No, I don't want to be separated from my things," I said. "If you
can't wait five seconds for me to retrieve them, then perhaps staying at
your place isn't the best idea."
He groaned and said something in Greek that I didn't understand.
"Fine, get them."
I picked up my bag, said goodbye to the remaining night kitchen
staff even though most everyone was gone, and then I followed Vasos out to
the snowy street, so beautifully lit up by electric streetlamps.
Vasos had his own, very opulent stagecoach, and as I got inside, I
was amazed at how much cleaner and fancier the interior was compared to the
stagecoach in the Territory. Vasos got inside as well, and the two of us
were left alone as the driver steered the horses and brought us down the
street. Vasos turned a switch and soon warm air was being blown into the
frigid cabin, and I was amazed that they had portable heating systems, and
was sure it must have been very expensive.
As I listened to the clop, clop, clop of the horse hooves on
cobblestone and looked out at the snow falling on the breathtaking city, I
was taken aback by how romantic all of this was. Vasos, however, seemed
not to care in the slightest. To him, this was just another means of
transportation.
I had a hard time believing that Vasos's house was a single-family
dwelling, as it was a stately old place, four stories tall, with impressive
Beaux-Arts design. Of course, as the doorman helped us in and some butler
greeted us, it became apparent that one family dwelling here might require
all sorts of servants to keep the place as clean and beautiful as the
palace was.
"This is Mr. Jake Groves," Vasos said to his butler. "He'll be
staying here for the time being."
"Shall I put him in the servant's quarters?"
"Yes, that sounds fine," I said.
"No, I want him with me."
"In one of the main guest bedrooms, you mean, your lordship?" asked
the butler.
"Oh, that would be very nice," I said.
"No, in my bedroom," said Vasos, and all I could do was fathom why
he was so insistent that I sleep in his bedroom. If he thought I would be
so grateful for him putting me up that I would have sex with him, well he
would be sorely disappointed.
"Ah, very well," said the butler, not the least bit surprised by his
wish as I was. "Shall I take your luggage up, sir?" he asked me.
"No, I can take it."
Vasos's bedroom was on the second story of the house, and was
clearly the largest, grandest in the manor, with an enormous bed, all the
furniture having a bit of a Greek signature to it, like the rest of the
house's decorating.
"Shall I put the fire out for you like usual, my lordship? We have
the radiator on," said one of the servant women who was in his room tending
the fireplace.
"No, keep it on," Vasos said. "The room is much prettier at night
with the firelight. But would you be so kind as to find a home for
Mr. Groves's bag for the night? I just don't have the space up here for
it."
I looked around, astonished. If there was one thing this room had,
it was plenty of floorspace, so I had to guess he didn't like the idea of
me just laying it around. He must have been as much of a neat freak as I
was.
"Yes," said the woman, coming to take my bag.
"Uh, you know what, I'd rather not. It's got valuables in it. I'd
like to keep it up here."
"Ah, yes. Thank you, that will be enough," he said to the woman,
and she left. "And Jake, I have just the place for your bag. My room has
a safe." He opened up a concealed safe in one of his wall cabinets and
smiled.
"Oh, that seems excessive," I said. "I can just put my bag
anywhere, I'm sure it will be safe in your room."
"I wouldn't be so sure," he said. "The servants here sometimes make
away with valuables."
"But the servants won't be coming into your room in the night, will
they?"
"I wouldn't put it past them. They are extremely clever, and move
with total stealth. That sort of thing would never happen in Greece."
"Alright, you've convinced me," I said, putting the bag in his safe.
"Let me just get what I need for the night."
After pulling out a bunch of items including my toiletries, I let
him shut the rest in the safe.
I pointed to a large, cozy looking antique couch that already had a
blanket and pillow on it. "I think I know where I'll sleep tonight."
"Oh, there? Well, I wouldn't if I were you. You should share the
bed with me."
"That's okay, I'd prefer to sleep on my own, as long as that's an
option."
"I'm afraid that's not an option," he said.
"Oh, why not?"
"The couch is damaged, you see."
"Oh?" I went over and sat on the couch, seeing no sign that it was
in any way unusually fragile. "It looks fine to me. What kind of damage
did you say it has?"
"Termite damage," he said. "It's so infested with the ravenous
insects, it'll be gone in a matter of weeks."
I jumped up off the couch with a start, and brushed off my clothes,
just to be safe. "Fine, I'll share a bed with you, but only because it's
so large."
I grabbed my things and walked into his large, fancy bathroom,
shutting and locking the door. I took off the bartender uniform and hung
it up, hoping that might get rid of some of the wrinkles. And then I used
the toilet and started to wash my hands and face.
I heard the sound of the doorknob being turned from the other side
unsuccessfully, and then knocking. "Who locked this door?" asked Vasos.
"Uh, obviously it was me who locked it."
"I don't like this door being locked. Open it up, right this
second."
"I'll open it up when I'm done in here."
A second later, I heard the door lock being broken forcibly from its
frame as Vasos used his mass to knock open the door, permanently damaging
the lock. It surprised me so much I jumped.
"What are you doing in here?" he asked me, looking at me in my
underwear.
"What does it look like? I'm getting ready for bed. The real
question is, what are YOU doing in here?"
"I, um, I needed to urinate." That was the second time he busted in
on me in the bathroom with that very lame excuse. Was he trying to see me
naked or something?
"Couldn't you have waited for me to finish?"
"No, I really, really have to go."
"Well, go ahead then," I said, nodding towards the toilet.
"Oh, right." He walked over to the toilet, pulled out his soft,
uncircumcised dick (which I had to admit was very impressive), and pointed
at the toilet.
His giant, uncut flesh tube was a gorgeous olive color, except for
the huge head, which was poking through the end of his dick skin in a
bright purple/olive color. Veins covered the huge stalk. He also had some
of his bush revealed, which was black and wiry. His balls stayed covered,
but with his dick out of the way I could see that they too were impressive,
as they made their own mound in his pants.
"How come I don't hear any urine hitting the water? I thought you
couldn't hold it." I knew this time he couldn't try and use the excuse
that he was too excited to go.
"No, wait, there it goes," he said, as finally he started to piss
into the toilet bowl. He finished remarkably quickly for someone who
really needed to go, and he shook himself off and buttoned his pants.
"Now you can leave me alone."
"First, I need to brush my teeth."
"Well, I'm using the sink right now, so you can just wait until I'm
done."
And then he stood behind me, watching me, as I used the sink.
"I meant you could leave me alone in the bathroom until I'm done."
"Oh, right," he said, walking towards the door, and then he stopped.
"You know what? I'm going to take a shower in here now before bed." He
walked into the large shower behind me, which had a totally see through
glass door, and continued to stare at me.
"Isn't there some other shower you could use?"
"No, this is the only one."
"You mean to say it's the only shower in this whole gigantic
mansion?"
"Yes, that's right."
He absentmindedly started to undress, all the while still staring at
me.
He took his kepi off first. That left his thick, black head hair,
which was cut short, in view. There was sort of a dorkiness about the way
he combed his hair in such an old-fashioned style, right down the middle
and held into place by what must have been a little bit of grease.
He took off his fancy black shoes, turned away from me, and pulled
down his light-blue trousers. Actually, the trousers were on him so
tightly, that pulling down wasn't entirely accurate; it was more that he
peeled them off. Just as I had assumed, there was no sign of underwear
under those pants, was that just the fashion here?
With his back to me, and only his dark-blue tunic left on him, I
noticed how well it clung to his big vampire muscles. The epaulettes kept
me from seeing his shoulder muscles and the upturned, half collar on the
top was so thick and stiff it kept from seeing his neck, but otherwise, I
could see his taut triceps and forearms under that fabric, as well as the
knotted muscles of his back.
The tunic only went to his hips, meaning I could see his bare butt
and the back of his legs perfectly. Thick leg muscles were covered by
olive-hued skin, and then were capped with swarthy, black hair. His
muscled, fatless buns also had a good amount of that Greek black fur, but
it tapered off by the time it got to his lower back.
He seemed to realize by not facing me as he undressed, he might miss
something I was doing in the bathroom, so he put aside his modesty and spun
around, his eye looking me over carefully. Again, I noticed how well his
light-blue tunic covered his vampire muscles, all except his epaulettes,
which covered his shoulders as well as the top of his traps, as well as
that old fashioned, hardened half-collar. And in the front, the area
around the center of the tunic, along the buttons, was so ornamented with
fancy trim, it covered the area from sight. Other than that, the tunic
hugged him so well it showed off his huge bis and thick pecs, with his
nipples coming through.
The tunic ended at his waist, and then it was all naked from that
point down. His muscled, olive legs were just as hairy in the front as
they were in the back. He had a large, black bush, which turned into a
treasure trail that disappeared into the bottom of his tunic.
Given how closely he was watching me in the bathroom, I half
expected his dick would be hard when I finally saw it, but it showed no
sign of that sort of firmness, but that didn't make it any less impressive.
His thick, black pubes covered perhaps a fifth of the giant tube around the
base, and just the very top of his balls, which were hairless. The
testicles were as big as they looked in his tunic, two meaty globes covered
in rough, dark-olive skin.
The many, many inches of his olive stalk was the girthiest just
around the center. His foreskin covered most of his head, just a tiny bit
of that purple-tan head popping out at the end.
He took off his tunic and threw it out of the area as well, leaving
him totally naked, letting me see his powerful upper body for the first
time. His muscles were just as developed as any other vampire's, without a
trace of fat. But Vasos was more hairy than many other men I'd seen. His
hard abs and chest were totally covered in black fur, as were his forearms.
A very light smattering of hair was on his sides, shoulders, and huge
biceps, leaving those parts of his body seemingly more muscular than the
others, though I knew that was just an illusion.
After all his clothes were off and set aside, he turned on the water
and started to shower, and his olive skin started to glisten. But he just
didn't seem invested in the shower at all, only applying soap when I looked
directly at him through the mirror, and otherwise not even moving in the
slightest, just letting the water pour over him as he watched me brush my
teeth. Was he getting some sexual excitement out of seeing me in nothing
but my underwear or perhaps being close enough to smell my blood? If so,
he sure was doing a good job of controlling his dick, which showed
absolutely no sign of hardening, even though it certainly was large enough
already soft.
Creeped out by the muscled man keeping his eyes on my bare body, I
quickly finished using the sink and put a t-shirt and sleeping shorts on,
inserting my wallet and cell phone into the back pockets. "The bathroom is
all yours," I said as I walked back into the bedroom, ready for bed.
Oddly enough, Vasos turned off the shower, toweled off, and came
trotting out of the bathroom, his olive dick swinging around.
"Aren't you going to use the sink now that I've vacated the
bathroom?"
"No need," he said.
He walked up behind me and started to get friendly with my butt,
sticking his hands there and copping a feel.
"I'm sorry, what do you think you're doing?" I asked, jumping away
from him.
"Oh, you just had some stuff I was brushing off."
"What stuff?"
"Oh, you know. Dust or something. It's gone now."
"Next time, if you see I've got something on me, how about just
telling me about it before engaging in inappropriate touching?"
"Alright." He walked over to his dresser, pulled out a pair of old
fashioned striped pajamas, and put them on. There were pants and a button
up, long-sleeve shirt, which he buttoned as he watched me.
I started to get into bed.
"That's my side of the bed," he told me, as if I should have known
that.
I moved over and got into bed on the side that was closest to the
fire. "It's very hot in here, and kind of bright for sleeping," I said,
pushing my covers off. "Can we extinguish the fire now?"
"No, I like it on, I get very cold during the night otherwise," he
said as he climbed into bed next to me. "Remember, I've from Greece."
I sighed unhappily, but closed my eyes, feeling very tired from
having an unnaturally long day. Since there was no possibility of kneeling
to pray, I did my nightly prayers lying there.
I just as I was drifting off, I woke up realizing how hot and sweaty
I was. I pulled off my t-shirt and set it aside, preferring to sleep with
my upper body bare. One glace over to the other side of the bed, and I
thought I saw Vasos was looking at me. I realized instead that he was
lying over on his side with his face pointed in my direction, but with his
eyes shut.
When I woke up again sometime later, my shorts were soaked with
sweat. Feeling hot and gross, I decided to remove those too, leaving me in
just my underwear.
I thought about taking it all off, but turned my head to make sure
Vasos was asleep, and that time, I for sure saw Vasos shut his eyes just as
I looked over at him, and I realized he was creepily watching me. I kept
my undies on and went back to sleep.
Sometime later I woke up feeling hot again, and this time, I got out
of bed and walked over to the fireplace, starting to extinguish it.
"No, please don't do that," said Vasos, either waking up or already
awake, I couldn't tell which.
"It's a sauna here and I can't sleep," I said.
"I'm still very cold."
I looked over at him. "If you are so cold, how come you have the
covers off of you and your pajamas are all sweaty?"
"They are not that sweaty."
"Vasos, your pajamas are so soaked I can see every line of each of
your muscles. I can see your wet pubes clinging to the fabric. In fact,
there's nothing I can't see."
"It's a cold sweat, really. I'm freezing."
"Well, a cold sweat means you have a fever, and if that's the case,
you really need this fire extinguished."
He had no more excuses left, so I finished the fire and climbed back
in bed.
"What are you doing?" I asked after he turned his nightstand lamp
on. "I hope you don't really need to sleep with the light on."
"I'm sorry, I'm highly afraid of the dark."
I let him have that one, turning away from light and falling asleep.