Evil Is a Man

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.