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Hope you all are ready for the story to begin in earnest! I also wanted to briefly mention how things will work, now that the story has officially started. While this is a "choose your own adventure" story, you all won't be voting on every single choice. You'll only be voting for the big, important decisions at the end of the chapters. These big votes will determine where the story goes- like we just experienced with choosing the slave. Because of that, each chapter will be a bit longer, to reflect the chosen vote, as well as do enough to progress the story to reach the next big decision for you to vote on. That also means, I may need some time after a vote ends (assuming no ties) before the next chapter is ready! I'm planning on leaving the polls open for about a week, to give plenty of time for everyone that wants to vote, or for people to change their mind. If there is a clear lead, however, I may end the poll a bit early.
Alright, now that all of that is out of the way, I hope you enjoy the beginning of our adventure, and your next Moral Quandary!
Part 2: Decisions, Decisions
[size=120Sometimes I can be completely indecisive. Plagued with the inability to choose anything. And this decision was no different. Perhaps because it was so important, so life changing, my mind continued to second guess itself.
When I thought about who to make my slave, my mind immediately thought of Cliff. The cocky bastard needed a serious attitude adjustment. And I delighted in thinking about all the ways I would break the punky little rich boy. He’d be completely defiant, struggling against every technique I planned on employing. And it excited me to envision quelling that fire. I knew I could make Cliff submit. He’d certainly make a much better boi than a mechanic. In a way, I would almost be doing a perverse form of community service, saving those lusty customers hundreds on their car repairs.
But, if my mind said Cliff, my heart screamed Andrej. My neighbor was struggling. He was lonely, even surrounded by people as he often was. He didn’t smile much anymore, hadn’t since everything happened. In the conversations I'd had with him as a friendly and supportive neighbor, I was saddened. It was clear that Andrej was simply going through the motions, operating on muscle memory. He needed help. He needed direction.
Cliff needed a firm hand to dole out punishment when he misbehaved. Andrej needed a strong hand to support him.
In the end, my heart won out. I didn’t want to say goodbye to Cliff just yet, but for now, my choice was clear. Andrej would be my first.
Now, I just needed to acquire him…
—--
And what luck, a few days after making up my mind, who should text me but Andrej himself! The lonely professor had invited me over, wanting to pick my brain about a recent purchase. What a perfect opportunity to do some reconnaissance, to plant some seeds, to earn some trust.
Trying not to seem too eager, I nevertheless hurried down the street, only to find him waiting in the archway of his open garage door. He was wearing a nice motorcycle jacket. Mostly black leather with white accents and a blue stripe, it looked amazing on him, especially since he was shirtless underneath. And he looked good. Definitely not as muscular as Cliff, and nowhere close to T.J.’s size, but damn if he didn’t keep himself in shape. With all that had happened to him, you’d understandably expect Andrej to let himself go, but he still maintained his physique. There’s some discipline there, then. That will come in handy for me.
“Andrej, you look great!” I complimented as I walked up the drive. “That jacket looks new! I approve!” I joked, pulling on my own leather jacket in support of this purchase. “Is this what you wanted an opinion on? Cause the answer is yes!”
A faint smile briefly appeared on the professor’s face. “Thank you, Bastien. But this is only part of the purchase.” He motioned me to follow him into the garage. “Though, I am happy. I was feeling quite foolish in this jacket, so it is nice to see that it is only in my head.”
I smiled. His accent was cute, and seeing his insecurity was even cuter.
When my eyes adjusted to the interior of the garage, I saw the partner purchase to Andrej’s jacket. It was a motorcycle. But not a brand new, shiny, ready to ride motorcycle. This was a beaten up, barely held together heap of metal that was vaguely shaped like a sport motorcycle. If it had been a dog, I would have told Andrej to put it out of its misery. I did my best to keep my face stoic.
“Well, what do you think?” Andrej asked expectantly.
“How much did this cost?” I asked before I could stop myself. But clearly the motorcycle and jacket hadn’t been cheap. Was this some sort of midlife crisis? No doubt his wife would have told him no. Maybe she had told him no multiple times before. He wouldn’t be making frivolous purchases like this with me, I reasoned. Though I couldn’t help approving of the jacket.
Andrej’s face fell. “You… you don’t like it?” He was crestfallen.
Shit. “No! It’s not that!” I needed to turn this around. “It looks like a fun project! I didn’t know you knew how to restore old bikes like this!”
His voice remained sullen. “I don’t.” He looked at me. “I was sort of hoping you did.”
Oh. Damn. “I’m sorry, friend. This is definitely not in my skill set.” I was honest with him. As much as lying would have been easy, my lack of knowledge would immediately betray me.
“Oh…” Andrej quietly said.
“Believe me, I wish I did know about this stuff! Otherwise I wouldn’t be wasting all my money at the mechanic!” We both laughed, though Andrej’s chuckles were strained.
“I am sorry, Bastien. I suppose I just assumed. You have this cool leather jacket, and that cool guy demeanor.” He looked down at his scrap metal bike. “Ugh I am so stupid!”
“Andrej, no!” I tried to calm him down. “I’m flattered! Maybe we can work on it together, figure it out as we go?” And I could get closer, and make my move…
“I appreciate the offer.” He gave me a weak smile. “But maybe it would be better to cut my losses.”
“I think it could still be a fun project. Just takes some research.” I said. “I’m working on something similar right now. Research is key!” Then I quickly added, “If you are going to sell, at least keep the jacket.” I winked and Andrej smiled again.
“Thank you, friend. Sorry to have bothered you. But you’ve given me some things to think about.”
I nodded and smiled, and reminded him to text me if he needed anything. Then we said our goodbyes.
It was a good start. Building more trust. I still needed a time to act. I needed more information.
—--
A few days later, Andrej invited me over for dinner. He’s starting to make this too easy. Maybe he wants more from me too. Not willing to let this opportunity slip away, I agreed, and asked what I should bring. Andrej insisted that everything was ready, but I still grabbed a bottle of zinfandel before I walked over.
Andrej greeted me, smiling again. This was more smiling than I’d seen him do in months. I was starting to feel honored. He was wearing a simple white shirt and jeans, which I’d seen him wear often. It seemed to be his go-to. He usually dressed simple. Not that he’d have to worry about what to wear before too long.
“Bastien, come on in!” Andrej said, leading me inside his home. It was decently decorated, no doubt his wife’s handiwork. It wasn’t too dissimilar from my house in terms of layout. The first floor had a central foyer/hallway that opened to the living room, dining room, kitchen, and office. The stairs sat in the middle of the house, leading upstairs. The stairs to the basement were hidden behind a door, and a somewhat cramped half bath was tucked behind the staircase.
“Thanks for inviting me, Andrej.” I handed him the bottle of wine. “Though I was a bit surprised to get an invite. It’s not a potluck is it?”
Andrej shook his head. “Not this time. I just wanted to say thank you for being there for me. I know we do not know each other that well, but I would like to think of you as a friend. I wish it were under better circumstances…” He paused and choked back some emotions. He cast a quick glance to a picture of Cathy, looking beautiful in a nice dress, her blonde curls framing her face. “But you have been a kind neighbor. So I wanted to thank you with a meal.”
He led me into the dining room. Two plates were already set up, surrounded by a surprising amount of food. I recognized a couple of the Serbian dishes from my previous visits to the professor’s home. There were stuffed peppers, and that delicious bean stew, and in the middle was Andrej’s podvarak. The roast pork was cooked perfectly and neatly rested on a bed of sauerkraut. Everything smelled delicious. Andrej gathered two glasses and began pouring the wine I brought, completing the meal.
“Are you sure this isn’t a potluck? Am I the only guest this evening? This is too much Andrej!” I said, continually trying to butter up my target. How long had he been cooking? And all for me? He seems to like cooking for me… he’s becoming more and more perfect.
“Nonsense.” Andrej said, then looked at the table again. “Ok, perhaps it is a bit too much. I was in a cooking mood. It is getting colder, and these dishes always remind me of winters back home. I suppose I needed that.” He pointed to my seat and waited for me to sit down before sitting himself. “Besides, this just means we will have plenty of leftovers, yes?”
“I can never say no to leftovers.” I joked. I tried to protest when Andrej started scooping food onto my plate, but he wouldn’t stop. Not that I actually minded. In fact, I enjoyed this brief glimpse into our future. “How are you doing, Andrej, really?” I asked as we began our meal.
“I am… unsure.” Andrej responded, his brows beginning to knit together. “I feel sadness. All the time. I have spoken to others, and they have assured me that this sadness is normal. Cathy’s passing was terrible, and everyone says that it will take time to heal.”
I nodded. “I’ve heard that wounds like this never really go away.”
“That has also been said to me. You heal as best as you can, and learn to move on.”
“Is that what the motorcycle was? Moving on?” I asked before biting into the pork medallion on my plate.
“I do not know. Perhaps? But in other ways, I do not think so.” Andrej sighed. “I always wanted to learn to ride one. The ones I see riding them on campus always look so cool. And I am very much not cool. But Cathy always said no. Motorcycles are too dangerous.”
“I think you’re cool.” I lied, with a wide grin.
Andrej saw that and smiled. “It is not kind to lie to people.”
I laughed. “Ok, so you’re not cool. You’re a professor of literature, you left cool behind a while ago! But that’s okay! Who cares?”
“Easy for you to say for you Bastien.” He looked me up and down… was that a lingering in his gaze? Interesting.
I changed the subject, not wanting Andrej to get upset about himself. “So, how is school going?”
Again, Andrej sighed. “Neverending. But my students are kind. I feel terrible though. Everyone knows that I am the unhappy widower. It is like everyone is walking on eggshells around me. It is a distraction, I suppose, but not a great one.”
We continued talking throughout the meal. I kept trying to help raise Andrej’s spirits, becoming more and more convinced that he needed my help. I couldn’t help but smile when he brought up a high school outreach event on campus that he was a part of. He’d been forced to work on the event by the head of his department, a barely concealed attempt to help Andrej get out of his funk. According to Andrej’s account, it was successful. He and three other professors from different departments and majors held a discussion panel for a group of visiting high school students from different schools around the city. The goal was to instill an interest in college for students, as well as to help some students start thinking about majors and areas of interest. And of course, the high schoolers were able to tour the school.
But that wasn’t why I smiled. I smiled because Andrej mentioned a name in particular. A certain high school history teacher who helped organize things for his school and students. Markus Kent had been on my list for a time. Funny how these academic types keep my attention.
I had initially heard of Markus Kent when he and his students appeared in the paper. It was some fluff piece to pad the publication on a slow newsweek. Mr. Kent had organized an entire Olympic Games event for the sophomores at his school, dividing all his history students into teams based on ancient Greek City-States. He and a handful of other teachers organized different events and educational activities to serve as some of the games: the English teachers hosted a trivia game about Greek mythology, while the math and science teachers had students recreate some inventions from famous Greek mathematicians. And of course, everyone was wearing togas made from bedsheets.
Markus was quite photogenic, so of course, I had to investigate further. He was almost perfect. Almost. Unfortunately, Markus had too many close connections. It would have been impossible to make him vanish. So I had to scratch his name off my list and continue my search.
I was happy to hear that Andrej had nothing but nice things to say about the high school teacher. The two instructors had apparently hit it off during the field trip. Andrej was smiling more, which made me smile.
The plates were almost empty, and we had eaten our fill. But I didn’t want the night to end yet. So I steered the conversation back to Andrej’s job.
“So, you aren’t that happy being a professor anymore?” I asked.
“Unhappy is the wrong word, I think.” Andrej considered. “But maybe I should ask the dean to schedule less classes for me.”
“What about a… fuck what’s it called? That break professors take?” I feigned ignorance, hoping Andrej would internalize the idea himself.
“Sabbatical?” Andrej corrected me.
“That’s it! Why not take a sabbatical? Relax, rest, do some more healing, start working on that bike?” I suggested.
“Hmm…” he stroked the light scruff on his chin. “It is certainly an option…” He didn’t say anything more, but I knew the idea had been planted. If he was seriously considering taking a sabbatical, he would tell a colleague or two. I’d have my in.
As dinner wound down, I knew I had to further capitalize on my current position in the house. As Andrej began clearing the plates, I excused myself to go use the restroom. Of course, I knew where the toilet was, but I took my time strolling down the hall, observing. Looking for anything that might make a future return less complicated. Windows looked solid, as did the front door. Backdoor was probably my best bet, out of view of the main street. Then I saw something that caught my eye.
Sitting on the well worn credenza in the main hall was a small bowl. A small bowl filled with keys and loose change. One set of keys was clearly Andrej’s, holding not only his house key but also the key to his decade old Honda. But a spare set of house keys tantalizingly rested next to Andrej’s.
Would he notice? Would he miss these keys? I heard the running water and the clinking of dishes, so as silently as I could, I grabbed the spare house key from the bowl and hurried to the bathroom.
I emerged a minute later and found Andrej waiting for me in the main hall, a grocery bag full of tupperware in his hand. “Thank you Bastien. I appreciate you coming over, and talking with me.” He thrust the copious leftovers into my arms. His hand stayed on my arm for a moment or two longer than needed, and Andrej looked away. It seemed like he wanted to say more, but something was stopping him. I didn’t want to ruin the good evening, so I didn’t say anything either. Besides, we’d have all the time we needed to discuss things.
He stepped back and led me to the door. I gathered my coat and we said our goodbyes.
“If you need anything, let me know!” I said. And I meant it. Soon, I’d be taking care of you, Andrej. I’ll be able to give you everything you need.
—--
I waited another two weeks before deciding to make my move. I texted with Andrej every couple of days, offering words of support, being neighborly, sending him some links to motorcycle repair and maintenance. But I couldn’t wait anymore.
I didn’t have everything finalized, but I couldn’t put things off a minute longer. Classes had ended, and Andrej had mentioned finishing all of his grades a day or two ago. The campus would be cold and silent for their winter break. It was time.
I waited until well after midnight. It was agony, so close to my goal, but seemingly so far. Finally, just before 2 am, I gathered my small backpack of supplies. A handful of zipties, a few coils of rope, bandanas, and duct tape. I wanted to bring a pair of handcuffs, but the jingling and clinking metal made me nervous. I didn’t want to be too loud until Andrej was safely in my care.
I had a ski mask and the house key in the pockets of my leather jacket and a pair of leather gloves on my hands. Not that suspicious, given the colder temperature, but perhaps a little suspicious at 2 in the morning.
I exited out of my back door, and crept my way towards Andrej’s house. I stuck to the property lines, the shadows, ducking behind fences and ornamental trees and bushes that offered pockets of privacy.
I approached Andrej’s backdoor. Thankfully, Andrej didn’t have motion sensitive lights, or any of those door cameras. That made my job much easier. Still, I didn't want to take any chances that another neighbor might see me as they got up for a glass of water and a piss.
I fished the ski mask out of my pocket and adjusted it over my face, obscuring most of the details of my face and hair. I carefully stepped onto Andrej’s deck, testing each board of the wooden surface before I put my full weight down. Each step was torturously slow. I was certain I’d be seen any moment as I crept closer and closer to the door. I pulled the spare house key out of my other pocket, ready to silently insert it into the lock.
Then I froze.
The backdoor was open. Not just unlocked, but fully open, ominously beckoning me into the pitch black kitchen.
What was going on? I leaned back to look at the back windows of Andrej’s house. There! A light shined against an upstairs window for just a moment. The beam of a flashlight. I looked around again, confused. The neighborhood had power, so this wasn’t the professor moving around in the dark.
That could only mean one thing: Someone, or someones, were also in Andrej’s house. Burglars perhaps? Or as unlikely as it seemed, could someone else be targeting Andrej? I admit, I felt a wave of jealousy come over me. Andrej was mine! How dare someone else try to ruin that.
No. Focus. Whoever it was, they were clearly up to no good. Was Andrej safe? At this point, I knew I couldn’t leave. I was committed to my plan, and I couldn’t abandon it now. Especially if Andrej was in danger, or currently being kidnapped by someone else!
Which left me with two clear options:
I could confront the other intruder, or intruders, and stop them. I was strong. I was determined. But I didn’t know my adversaries.
Or, I could sneak through the house to find Andrej. I could try to avoid the intruder and “rescue” Andrej without being noticed. [/size]
Cast your vote and share your thoughts! What should our Protagonist, Bastien, do? Remember, I need at least 10 votes before this story continues!
)
I was extremely worried I was going to have to do a flash run off poll! 
Fun times ahead.
