{fic} Eager to Please/Lucky to Love 12/?
Chapter 1 * Chapter 2 * Chapter 3 * Chapter 4 * Chapter 5 * Chapter 6 * Chapter 7 * Chapter 8 * Chapter 9 * Chapter 10 * Chapter 11
The dinner party was a success. Kurt and Santana and Brittany spent the late hours of the night cleaning and getting everything back in order. Dave took the following day off work, wanting to do something special for the girls and Kurt that would show them how much he appreciated their hard work.
“I have an idea,” Dave began just after breakfast was done. “Azimio said I can bring you back later this afternoon, Brit. And Santana, you can stay too…until later tonight, actually.” He twisted in his seat excitedly, rather happy that he got to keep the girls a little longer. He liked having them and he knew Kurt did too. “Let’s watch a movie!”
Santana and Brittany shot panicked looks at each other but Kurt spoke up. “It’s ok, girls. This is fun. I’ve watched movies before. They’re not that hard to understand…as long as Dave doesn’t mind stopping it every now and then to explain stuff.”
“Right, no problem at all.” Dave stood and walked to the couch, picking up the remote. “We’ll even make popcorn too, if you’d like.”
Brittany knew what popcorn was. “That stuff is so good! My mistress lets me have the popcorn that Master Trey and Miss Keysha leave in their bowl after they finish their homework.”
“Alright then,” Dave smiled, plopping down on the couch, “pick a seat and let’s find a movie to watch.” He scrolled through the menus, trying to find something appropriate for the girls. “Ooh, here we go,” Dave said excitedly. “Haha, Grease is the word, guys.”
“Grease?” Kurt replied. “Like, dirt?”
“Yeah, like car grease…grime…what gets on you when you work on cars. It’s also the name of a great musical. I played Kenickie in our school play senior year. God, I was awful.” Dave shook his head at the memory. “Anyway. It’s a movie and um…” he scrolled through the menu, “Yes, they have it.” He clicked on the screen, turning back to the three curious faces looking at him. “They have the sing-along version. I’m teaching you guys how to sing.”
The movie began and Dave handed Kurt the remote control for his make-shift microphone. He got up to make popcorn and grabbed the pepper grinder and handed it to Santana and a spatula for Brittany. The first song came along, “Summer Nights” and Dave started singing, encouraging the others to follow along with the words on the screen. Santana and Brittany laughed and giggled along while Kurt shyly mouthed the words, not wanting to sing out loud.
Dave paused the movie. “Uh-uh. You’re singing, buddy, none of that ‘moving your lips but making no sounds’ kinda thing. We’re starting over.” Dave backed the movie up to the beginning of the song and looked expectantly at Kurt. “Alright girls, only Kurt on the first line…he needs to hear his own voice.”
Kurt tightened his lips into a thin line, staring down at the floor, embarrassed. He finally looked up and smiled shyly at Dave, a taking a deep breath, holding his remote control up to his lips as the song started, “Summer loving, had me a blast…”
“Good job!” Dave added in quickly before he and the girls joined in singing the next line, “Summer loving, happened so fast…”
By the time “We Go Together” was on the screen, Kurt was singing along at the top of his lungs. The movie ended and they sat around the living room, talking and laughing.
“You guys can sing! Good job!” Dave wiped at his eyes, still laughing from the girls’ antics during some of the songs. “I think we should start a band. Dave and the Domestics…what do you think?”
The other three just looked at each other curiously. They weren’t sure what ‘a band’ was exactly or if Dave was serious.
“Alright, never mind,” Dave said, amused his joke didn’t go over well with the three of them. “Did you like the movie?”
“I liked it.” Brittany stated, nodding confidently.
“I didn’t think they were going to get together in the end,” Kurt added. “Danny was being such a…a…”
“An asshole?” Dave supplied.
“Yes,” Kurt nodded.
“#701 called Master Schuester an asshole once and he was in solitary for three weeks,” Santana added. “I don’t know what the word means but I’m never going to say it.” She put her hand over her mouth, suddenly terrified, “Oh my god, I just said it.”
Dave laughed, “It’s alright, San…there’s no solitary confinement here at my place. The worst you’d have to do is clean up after Zeke.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Dave sat nervously in the sterile waiting room. There were outdated magazines with ripped covers arranged on a small wooden table. Dave chewed on the inside of his cheek. This had to work.
“Karloffsky?”
“Karofsky, um, yeah…” Dave stood, meeting the stern glare of the tall woman in the doorway.
“Ready for you,” she answered back.
He followed her into a small, cramped office, sitting in front of her desk where he noticed the nameplate ‘Coach Sylvester’ sitting on the edge of it. She walked back behind it and sat down herself. “I was under the impression you had an ill-mannered slave you needed retrained. Is that not the case?”
“No, no…it’s not. I’d like to have my slave emancipated, actually. I know I need a doctor’s evaluation and approval before I can start the legal process.”
She stared at him warily. “I’m probably not the best choice for this sort of thing,” she began. She started writing on a legal pad as she spoke. “I’m a reconditioning psychologist, Mr. Kirschoff. I retrain and re-teach slaves when their placement changes. A slave who’s lived the majority of his life in the country needs to be retrained for city life, they call me. Or a slave who’s only instruction was in sexual performance. I teach it how to adjust to being social…and out of the bedroom. Your slave would already have to be familiar with independent thinking for me to be able to write off on his papers.”
“Ok. Um, yeah, I understand. I was hoping you’d be able to meet him and see for yourse--”
“Slave’s name?” she asked, looking up as she hoisted her pen above the stack of legal forms.
“Um, Kurt,” he answered.
“Date and facility of purchase?”
“Um, it was Schuester’s. And uh, the date was…April, um, 12th or 13th. I might have to check.”
She eyed him disapprovingly over the rim of her glasses. “You didn’t bother to bring your paperwork with you?”
“Sorry. Didn’t think it was…um, no, sorry.”
“Year? What year, April 12th or 13th?”
“Oh, well, this year.”
She tossed her pen on her desk and sat back abruptly, suddenly irritated…or just more irritated than she already was. “His age?” she asked accusingly.
“Al-almost 18.” Dave stammered, “But wait, wait, just listen to me…”
“Mr. Kazinski, I’m a busy woman. I don’t have time for this. Emancipation is for old fogies being put out to pasture and babies given a second chance at a real life. Come back in 50 years and I might reconsider.”
“No, wait. Please,” Dave pleaded. “Please, listen to me. This is different. Kurt is different. He understands so much and he’s able to make his own decisions and…I just know that--”
“Slaves don’t really make their own decisions, Mr. Kaminski. They look for clues, they are trained to watch for clues from their master. I assure you every so-called choice he makes is just him doing exactly what he thinks will please you.”
“No, it’s not, ok? Kurt’s different. He’s learned how to joke and he chooses if he wants to drink wine with dinner, all by himself and he told me I was a bad cook. He could have gotten in trouble for that, right? Any other slave would have been punished but Kurt voiced his opinion, a negative opinion. I know that means something. Kurt’s special, I just know it. He deserves to be free. Just…just meet him. Please…just give him a chance, meet with him and then decide.”
She waited for him to finish his rant before swiveling slowly in her chair and steepling her fingers together. “Listen, Bubba, I get it, ok? You’re not the first guy to walk in here with ‘owner’s guilt.’ You want to imagine a different life for your slave. You see him make a choice and you think that’s free will? Well, it’s not. He knows what you want him to pick. You wanted him to drink that wine, didn’t you? You probably are a bad cook and he was telling you what you wanted to hear. But it’s all in your head. You teach him to drive a car and balance a checkbook, then what? He has no conscious thought of his own existence outside pleasing a master. That’s his whole world, that’s all he knows. You want to picture him living the American Dream as a freeperson, wife and kids and all that. But I’m telling you…it’s not gonna happen.”
“Well, no…that’s not gonna happen,” he mumbled in response. She narrowed her eyes, searching him. He shifted uncomfortably. “He’s…he’s gay. Although, I really don’t understand how they could possibly know, with the hormone pills they shove down his throat.”
She hadn’t stopped staring at him, the slightest hint of disgust curling her lip. “And what is your sexual orientation, Mr. Kurlovsky.”
He sat up quickly. “No, no…absolutely not! I swear to you, doctor, that’s not what this is about. I haven’t. And I won’t.”
“But you want to. Clearly. Your good conscience is preventing you from boinking your slave. So you want to turn him into a freeperson…so he’ll be your kept boy instead. The only difference is paperwork. I’m done here…get out of my office.”
Dave’s temper flared. “No. Dammit, listen to me. You’ve…you’ve got it all wrong, I swear. I’ve already been to three other psychologists looking for help. I’m not giving up. Not until Kurt is a free, independent person. He’s different. He has the ability to make his own choices. Choices, not what I want…what he wants. He has a hobby. He draws these amazing pictures and he’s so talented. He learns and he understands so much. You have to meet him, please, just give him a chance.”
Dave sat forward in his seat anxiously, waiting for the woman to reply, feeling the agitation eating at him. She studied him disapprovingly from across her desk, shaking her head slightly. She opened her mouth to speak just as the door to her office opened and a young woman walked in. Dave’s eyes widened suddenly at the girl’s appearance. She was…well, she was obviously Down syndromed, that was the first thing he noticed. But more than that. He knew, like every other freeperson knew, mentally retarded children, as soon as their condition was diagnosed, were immediately given up for slavery. It was expected. It was normal. Whether they were born free or not, mentally disabled people were always slaves.
But this girl. This young woman walking into the doctor’s office, holding a stack of folders in her hands, carrying herself with a confidence and poise that only freepersons possessed…he could tell immediately, she was free.
The doctor narrowed her eyes at Dave as he stared, gaping at her assistant. “Thank you, Becky. That’s all I need for right now.”
“You’re welcome, Coach. I’m taking my lunch break now.”
“Alright,” she answered back, not taking her eyes off Dave as his eyes followed the girl out the door.
He turned back to her with an accusing look of his own. “How old is she?”
“That’s none of your--”
“And how long ago did she win her emancipation?”
“I’m finished with this conversation, Mr. Costanza. If you’ll excuse me…”
Dave sat back in his chair, not moving to get up as he eyed her again. “Just meet him. Come to my apartment when I’m not there if you want. Just look into his eyes and talk to him and then…then tell me he doesn’t deserve a chance at what Becky has.”
She sat back in her seat and they stared at each other for a long, tense moment, neither of them giving an inch. She finally huffed brusquely, knowing she’d probably lost this round. She finally shifted in her chair, reaching for her pen and making notes on her paperwork. She spoke quickly, not looking up at him. “I will meet him. But I make no promises. I charge $2000 for house visits, Mr. Kowalski. If you even hint at him what my purpose for being there is…I walk out and the deal is off.”
“Of course, yeah, I wouldn’t…” Dave nodded enthusiastically. “Dr. Sylvester,” he added softly, “I just want you to know, this is for Kurt. I have no selfish interests in this. Please believe me.”
“Whatever,” she removed her glasses and tossed them onto her desk, sitting back abruptly. “I get to decide that. And stop calling me ‘doctor.’ I prefer ‘coach.’ I like the athletic metaphor for my retraining and reconditioning sessions. It helps the slaves differentiate between doctors-with-needles and what I do.”
“Sure…coach, of course. Thank you.” He slipped his hand into his jacket breast pocket, pulling out his checkbook. “Do you take checks?”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Dave came home from work the next day a little earlier than usual. He walked through the front door to find Kurt on the couch and Grease playing on the TV. Kurt scrambled for the remote control, trying to stop the movie quickly, afraid he might be in trouble.
“Hey, it’s alright,” Dave told him. “I don’t mind if you finish watching it. You liked that one, huh?”
Kurt nodded shyly. He’d been able to pause the movie but when Dave toed off his shoes and walked around to the front of the couch and sat next to Kurt, Kurt’s eyes got bigger.
“Go ahead and start it. I’ll watch the rest of it with you.”
Kurt pressed play. The movie was near the end. They didn’t sing along this time, instead just paying attention to the story. Kurt glanced sideways at Dave a few times, smiling softly and looking down when their eyes met. The movie ended and they sat in silence for a moment. Dave could tell there was something on Kurt’s mind.
Finally, Kurt took a deep breath and spoke, “Dave, can I ask you something?”
“Of course, Kurt.”
Kurt looked down then glanced back towards the TV set. He thinned his lips slightly as he thought about his question. “At the end of the movie. At the very end when Danny and Sandy fly off in their car…is she going to pleasure him next?”
Dave chuckled, nodding his head in amusement, “Yeah, probably.”
Kurt studied his hands thoughtfully at his owner’s answer.
“But, actually, Kurt. It’s not really called that. Um, when people do it…I mean, when freepersons do it, they um…they call it sex, having sex. Or if you want to be mushy, you can call it making love. It’s different than what…um, slaves do.”
“How?” Kurt asked innocently, “How is it different?”
“Well, Danny and Sandy liked each other. They wanted to be together. Sex is more than just pleasure, it’s about emotions and having feelings for the person that you’re with. When you do it with someone you don’t have feelings for, like when a person does it with a slave…there’s never any emotion, you know. But having sex…in my opinion, at least, it’s supposed to be special. They call it making love because that’s what supposed to happen. You’re supposed to be in love.”
“Danny and Sandy were in love,” Kurt said, thinking out loud.
“Yeah, they were.”
Kurt stared into the distance for a minute longer, thinking, trying to figure it all out. His parents had been in love. But he never actually considered them…together like that. Pleasure was for freepersons. But with the pamphlets and his new understanding of where babies actually came from, he realized the obvious fact - his parents had broken the rules. There was something he wasn’t getting, something so close…he was almost there. He looked up at his owner, his eyes going wide as realization hit. “That’s why!” he gasped, bringing his hand up to his mouth. “That’s why you…you never…”
Dave could tell what he’d just figured out. After all this time, Kurt finally understood why Dave refused to use him for sexual services. “Yes, Kurt. That’s why. I just think…it’s supposed to mean something. Both people should enjoy it. If you don’t respect the person you’re with, then that makes it…cheap. That’s why I never let you…um, yeah.”
“You don’t like me!” Kurt replied, smiling widely.
“Well, no, Kurt…I like you…but just…”
“Not like Danny likes Sandy,” Kurt nodded his head enthusiastically. “We’re not in love,” he stated simply, like the realization was huge. Because it was.
“Well, yeah, I guess you’re right, Kurt.”
Kurt smiled proudly, obviously happy with himself for figuring out this huge thing. He looked back at the screen at the credits still playing, thinking still about what it all meant. All this time he thought his owner didn’t want his services because he wasn’t good enough. But now, Kurt understood…his owner…what’s the word? He twitched his lips as he thought. Respect! His owner had respect for him and that’s why he didn’t ask Kurt to pleasure him.
He sighed heavily as he turned back to see Dave’s still patient, smiling face. “Thank you for explaining this to me, Dave” he said quietly. He got up from the couch and headed towards the kitchen to start on dinner.
“You’re welcome,” Dave answered as he got up and followed him, leaning back against the kitchen counter and watching him for a moment. “Hey, Kurt. Um, can I ask you something?”
“Yes?” Kurt answered.
“Did you ever…um, did you ever decide what you were going to do with your pills?”
“Oh, yeah. I stopped taking them last week,” Kurt beamed proudly. “And I haven’t gotten sick. You were right.”
“Oh,” Dave answered, trying to hide his look of panic. A week, fuck…thanks for the heads up, Dave thought.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Dave headed out the door for work the following morning, turning back as he remembered. “Oh, Kurt?”
“Yes?” Kurt asked from the kitchen.
“Um, I have a…a friend stopping by today. Her name is um, Sue. Can you give her these papers by the front door when she gets here?”
Kurt walked forward, a pleasant smile on his face. “Of course, Dave. Anything else?”
“Um, well. She’s a…a good friend. Feel free to invite her in and…and make her feel welcome, alright? You can do that, can’t you?”
“Yes, sir. I will do my best to make her feel welcome. Have a good day.”
Dave swallowed. He felt like he should say something…something else to help Kurt out. But he couldn’t ruin it. Not when he’d finally found a psychologist willing to meet Kurt. He just really hoped it went well. “Ok, thanks. You have a great day, too.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The doorbell rang as Kurt was loading the washing machine. He smiled excitedly and went to the door, smoothing his clothes down and hoping his appearance was satisfactory. He opened the door and smiled. “Hello, welcome. You must be Mr. Karofsky’s friend, Sue.”
The tall, stern woman narrowed her eyes at him, twitching her lips for a moment. “You must be Kurt.”
“Yes, I am. Come in. Here are the papers my owner said you should have.” He handed the folder to the woman and stepped back. “May I get you some tea?”
She stepped into the apartment, eyeing the boy. “Do you know why I’m here, Kurt?” she asked accusingly.
“Yes, ma’am. Mr. Karofsky said that you were to pick up those papers. And that I should make you feel welcome.”
She walked into the apartment, the answer to her question obviously acceptable. For now. She’d bolt as soon as she realized Kurt knew her real reason for being there. She looked around nosily, taking in the stunning view of the city, the perfectly clean apartment, Kurt’s wide smile.
“I’ll make you some tea, if you’d like.”
“Sure,” she finally said. She walked around to the table and sat, placing the paperwork down and leafing through it briefly. She looked back up, watching Kurt as he worked. She could tell immediately, he did have a confidence to him that was rare in slaves. Dave had obviously been offering high praise to the boy. “Did I interrupt anything, Kurt?”
“Oh no, ma’am. I was only starting a load of clothes. You arrival is much more important than that.”
“But your chores are important, Kurt. Aren’t they?” she challenged.
“Yes, ma’am, of course. But not as important as people. And especially one of my owner’s friends.”
“What do you do here, for your master? What are your chores?”
“I have a detailed list of chores, ma’am. Today is laundry day. I wash, dry, fold and put away all our clothing. I also press Mr. Karofsky’s dress shirts and take his suits to the dry cleaners.” There was an awkward silence between them, Kurt was nervous as he turned back from the stovetop. “Um, may I ask what you do, ma’am?” he was trying to be polite and he knew it was rude to speak only of himself.
“I’m sort of a coach, Kurt.” She narrowed her eyes again at the boy. “I help people…learn new skills.”
“Oh, that sounds lovely,” Kurt answered, not sure what she meant but not being rude by pressing. “Would you care for lemon or honey for your tea?”
“No,” she answered sternly. “Tell me more about what you do here. More than just the laundry, I’m sure.”
Kurt smiled, he was trying not to let his nervousness show. “I also take care of Mr. Karofsky’s dog, Zeke. I have him in Mr. Karofsky’s room right now since visitors get him excited and I wasn’t sure if you liked dogs.” Kurt set the mug of tea on the table and waited patiently for her to try it. “There are other chores as well. And…and I do have time to myself when I’m not working. Time for my…hobby.”
She had raised the cup to her lips but put it down when Kurt mentioned his hobby. “A hobby, Kurt? Really? And what is that?”
Kurt smiled shyly at the floor. “I like to draw, ma’am.”
“You mean, your master likes for you to draw, right? You draw to please your master, don’t you, Kurt?”
Kurt lost his smile. He wasn’t sure how to respond but he knew he had to be truthful. “My…my master suggested that I choose a hobby when I first came here to be his housekeeper, ma’am. I had never drawn before. But I tried it and I found that it makes me happy. So, honestly, to answer your question…I draw to please myself, ma’am.”
She huffed, finally taking a sip of her tea and looking somewhat disapprovingly at Kurt.
He twisted his hands nervously, attempting a polite smile.
She set her cup down, still eyeing him. “I’d like to see these drawings of yours, Kurt,” she sat back in her seat and crossed her arms over her chest.
Kurt stammered, “Of...of course, ma’am. Um, they’re in my room. Would you…” he motioned for her to follow him. “Would you like to follow me?”
She stood, following him down the short hall and into his room. She noted the clean perfection of the room, the organized desk, the bookshelf with three books on it. Kurt picked up his sketchbook, opened to the first page and handed it to her.
She looked down at the picture skeptically then back up at Kurt. “You drew this?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he answered quietly.
She turned the page, studying the pictures, the details, the colors. “Why do you only draw this woman? Who is she?”
“She was my mother. I…I like to remember her face when I’m by myself or when I’m confused about things.” He spoke quietly, not sure how much of his story he should give away.
“Confused about what?” Sue pressed.
Kurt faltered. He wasn’t sure if he should tell this woman the story behind his mother’s smile. He looked up at Sue, nervously searching her face. He knew he couldn’t get in trouble for his secret, not now. His time spent at the facility was different, he was constantly afraid of being found out. But now, now things were different. He didn’t have to worry about getting in trouble, he didn’t have to worry about keeping his secret hidden any longer. He could tell his master’s friend. He looked back at the picture, tracing it lightly with his fingers, “She said…it was a secret.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Sue called Dave at work the following day. “Just wanted you to know, you were right. Don’t let it go to your head. He still has a ways to go before he can reconcile his need to please a master with his desire for autonomy. But he’s pretty close.”
Dave was floored. “Really? Wow…um, I’m really glad you gave him a chance. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. Like I said, he has some things he still needs to figure out. On his own. Especially when it comes to his capacity for emotion.”
“Emotion? You mean, sadness, loneliness? Um, what does he have to figure--”
“No, Bubba, I mean his ability to understand and desire romantic companionship. Love, in layman’s terms. Kurt is different, you were right. He’s survived all Schuester’s mental conditioning with his ability to love still intact.”
“What?” Dave slumped into his chair, holding his phone to his ear as he stared across his office. “I thought he’d said something about love once, but I didn’t think…I didn’t know he could…”
“Yeah well. Mazel tov,” Sue answered. “But listen to me very carefully here. Kurt is still very much a slave and thinks like a slave. Your slave, Mr. Kazynski. Whatever your intentions are towards Kurt, you must not in any way, tell him that you want to develop a relationship with him.”
“What? I…I don’t…I…”
“I’m not speaking just to hear the sound of my voice here, as nice as I believe it is. We’re talking about human biology, Bubba, you can’t fight it. What I’m telling you is this…if Kurt knows, or if Kurt even suspects that you want him to reciprocate feelings for you, then of course…he will. Without hesitation. Because he’s your slave and that’s what they do. They please. And you…you’ll never know, you’ll never be certain if he’s truly doing that to please you because you are his master…or if he wants to love you back for himself. He must make the first move. He must find the confidence in himself, at some point, so that he initiates things. Do you understand?”
Dave was stunned. He simply wanted Kurt to be free. He hadn’t considered what that future free life would include. Of course, he selfishly wanted to be a part of it. He hoped that, maybe, Kurt would agree to stay with him. Dave thought maybe he’d be more like a roommate. A roommate who did most of the cleaning, of course. He could let him live there for free and they’d continue on like they were, just as equals instead.
But fuck…he never really thought about anything past that. Maybe he really was being the naïve one here. A psychologist, trained in the very field Dave was so blindly trying to navigate, was telling him Kurt could love. Kurt might actually, someday…love him? It was a lot to take in.
Sue was speaking again, Dave tried to catch up. “So I wanted you to know, I’m ripping up your check. My time spent yesterday with Kurt and the time I hope to spend with him over the next few weeks, he’ll be teaching me things I’m sure. Things I’ve never been able to learn despite my master’s degree in psychology. Things I never thought possible in the last 29 years of my life as a freeperson.”
Dave stammered, “You…you were…a…?”
“That doesn’t matter, Mr. Karchoff. I’ll stop by next week and Kurt and I will get started. Tell him to expect me.”
“Thank you, doctor…um, Coach. Thank you.” Dave hung up his phone, still staring blankly across the room. Things had changed irreversibly over the past ten minutes and Dave was trying hard to sort out his jumbled thoughts. One thought kept surfacing however, stronger and more persistent than the others. Kurt could love. Kurt might actually, someday love him.
The dinner party was a success. Kurt and Santana and Brittany spent the late hours of the night cleaning and getting everything back in order. Dave took the following day off work, wanting to do something special for the girls and Kurt that would show them how much he appreciated their hard work.
“I have an idea,” Dave began just after breakfast was done. “Azimio said I can bring you back later this afternoon, Brit. And Santana, you can stay too…until later tonight, actually.” He twisted in his seat excitedly, rather happy that he got to keep the girls a little longer. He liked having them and he knew Kurt did too. “Let’s watch a movie!”
Santana and Brittany shot panicked looks at each other but Kurt spoke up. “It’s ok, girls. This is fun. I’ve watched movies before. They’re not that hard to understand…as long as Dave doesn’t mind stopping it every now and then to explain stuff.”
“Right, no problem at all.” Dave stood and walked to the couch, picking up the remote. “We’ll even make popcorn too, if you’d like.”
Brittany knew what popcorn was. “That stuff is so good! My mistress lets me have the popcorn that Master Trey and Miss Keysha leave in their bowl after they finish their homework.”
“Alright then,” Dave smiled, plopping down on the couch, “pick a seat and let’s find a movie to watch.” He scrolled through the menus, trying to find something appropriate for the girls. “Ooh, here we go,” Dave said excitedly. “Haha, Grease is the word, guys.”
“Grease?” Kurt replied. “Like, dirt?”
“Yeah, like car grease…grime…what gets on you when you work on cars. It’s also the name of a great musical. I played Kenickie in our school play senior year. God, I was awful.” Dave shook his head at the memory. “Anyway. It’s a movie and um…” he scrolled through the menu, “Yes, they have it.” He clicked on the screen, turning back to the three curious faces looking at him. “They have the sing-along version. I’m teaching you guys how to sing.”
The movie began and Dave handed Kurt the remote control for his make-shift microphone. He got up to make popcorn and grabbed the pepper grinder and handed it to Santana and a spatula for Brittany. The first song came along, “Summer Nights” and Dave started singing, encouraging the others to follow along with the words on the screen. Santana and Brittany laughed and giggled along while Kurt shyly mouthed the words, not wanting to sing out loud.
Dave paused the movie. “Uh-uh. You’re singing, buddy, none of that ‘moving your lips but making no sounds’ kinda thing. We’re starting over.” Dave backed the movie up to the beginning of the song and looked expectantly at Kurt. “Alright girls, only Kurt on the first line…he needs to hear his own voice.”
Kurt tightened his lips into a thin line, staring down at the floor, embarrassed. He finally looked up and smiled shyly at Dave, a taking a deep breath, holding his remote control up to his lips as the song started, “Summer loving, had me a blast…”
“Good job!” Dave added in quickly before he and the girls joined in singing the next line, “Summer loving, happened so fast…”
By the time “We Go Together” was on the screen, Kurt was singing along at the top of his lungs. The movie ended and they sat around the living room, talking and laughing.
“You guys can sing! Good job!” Dave wiped at his eyes, still laughing from the girls’ antics during some of the songs. “I think we should start a band. Dave and the Domestics…what do you think?”
The other three just looked at each other curiously. They weren’t sure what ‘a band’ was exactly or if Dave was serious.
“Alright, never mind,” Dave said, amused his joke didn’t go over well with the three of them. “Did you like the movie?”
“I liked it.” Brittany stated, nodding confidently.
“I didn’t think they were going to get together in the end,” Kurt added. “Danny was being such a…a…”
“An asshole?” Dave supplied.
“Yes,” Kurt nodded.
“#701 called Master Schuester an asshole once and he was in solitary for three weeks,” Santana added. “I don’t know what the word means but I’m never going to say it.” She put her hand over her mouth, suddenly terrified, “Oh my god, I just said it.”
Dave laughed, “It’s alright, San…there’s no solitary confinement here at my place. The worst you’d have to do is clean up after Zeke.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Dave sat nervously in the sterile waiting room. There were outdated magazines with ripped covers arranged on a small wooden table. Dave chewed on the inside of his cheek. This had to work.
“Karloffsky?”
“Karofsky, um, yeah…” Dave stood, meeting the stern glare of the tall woman in the doorway.
“Ready for you,” she answered back.
He followed her into a small, cramped office, sitting in front of her desk where he noticed the nameplate ‘Coach Sylvester’ sitting on the edge of it. She walked back behind it and sat down herself. “I was under the impression you had an ill-mannered slave you needed retrained. Is that not the case?”
“No, no…it’s not. I’d like to have my slave emancipated, actually. I know I need a doctor’s evaluation and approval before I can start the legal process.”
She stared at him warily. “I’m probably not the best choice for this sort of thing,” she began. She started writing on a legal pad as she spoke. “I’m a reconditioning psychologist, Mr. Kirschoff. I retrain and re-teach slaves when their placement changes. A slave who’s lived the majority of his life in the country needs to be retrained for city life, they call me. Or a slave who’s only instruction was in sexual performance. I teach it how to adjust to being social…and out of the bedroom. Your slave would already have to be familiar with independent thinking for me to be able to write off on his papers.”
“Ok. Um, yeah, I understand. I was hoping you’d be able to meet him and see for yourse--”
“Slave’s name?” she asked, looking up as she hoisted her pen above the stack of legal forms.
“Um, Kurt,” he answered.
“Date and facility of purchase?”
“Um, it was Schuester’s. And uh, the date was…April, um, 12th or 13th. I might have to check.”
She eyed him disapprovingly over the rim of her glasses. “You didn’t bother to bring your paperwork with you?”
“Sorry. Didn’t think it was…um, no, sorry.”
“Year? What year, April 12th or 13th?”
“Oh, well, this year.”
She tossed her pen on her desk and sat back abruptly, suddenly irritated…or just more irritated than she already was. “His age?” she asked accusingly.
“Al-almost 18.” Dave stammered, “But wait, wait, just listen to me…”
“Mr. Kazinski, I’m a busy woman. I don’t have time for this. Emancipation is for old fogies being put out to pasture and babies given a second chance at a real life. Come back in 50 years and I might reconsider.”
“No, wait. Please,” Dave pleaded. “Please, listen to me. This is different. Kurt is different. He understands so much and he’s able to make his own decisions and…I just know that--”
“Slaves don’t really make their own decisions, Mr. Kaminski. They look for clues, they are trained to watch for clues from their master. I assure you every so-called choice he makes is just him doing exactly what he thinks will please you.”
“No, it’s not, ok? Kurt’s different. He’s learned how to joke and he chooses if he wants to drink wine with dinner, all by himself and he told me I was a bad cook. He could have gotten in trouble for that, right? Any other slave would have been punished but Kurt voiced his opinion, a negative opinion. I know that means something. Kurt’s special, I just know it. He deserves to be free. Just…just meet him. Please…just give him a chance, meet with him and then decide.”
She waited for him to finish his rant before swiveling slowly in her chair and steepling her fingers together. “Listen, Bubba, I get it, ok? You’re not the first guy to walk in here with ‘owner’s guilt.’ You want to imagine a different life for your slave. You see him make a choice and you think that’s free will? Well, it’s not. He knows what you want him to pick. You wanted him to drink that wine, didn’t you? You probably are a bad cook and he was telling you what you wanted to hear. But it’s all in your head. You teach him to drive a car and balance a checkbook, then what? He has no conscious thought of his own existence outside pleasing a master. That’s his whole world, that’s all he knows. You want to picture him living the American Dream as a freeperson, wife and kids and all that. But I’m telling you…it’s not gonna happen.”
“Well, no…that’s not gonna happen,” he mumbled in response. She narrowed her eyes, searching him. He shifted uncomfortably. “He’s…he’s gay. Although, I really don’t understand how they could possibly know, with the hormone pills they shove down his throat.”
She hadn’t stopped staring at him, the slightest hint of disgust curling her lip. “And what is your sexual orientation, Mr. Kurlovsky.”
He sat up quickly. “No, no…absolutely not! I swear to you, doctor, that’s not what this is about. I haven’t. And I won’t.”
“But you want to. Clearly. Your good conscience is preventing you from boinking your slave. So you want to turn him into a freeperson…so he’ll be your kept boy instead. The only difference is paperwork. I’m done here…get out of my office.”
Dave’s temper flared. “No. Dammit, listen to me. You’ve…you’ve got it all wrong, I swear. I’ve already been to three other psychologists looking for help. I’m not giving up. Not until Kurt is a free, independent person. He’s different. He has the ability to make his own choices. Choices, not what I want…what he wants. He has a hobby. He draws these amazing pictures and he’s so talented. He learns and he understands so much. You have to meet him, please, just give him a chance.”
Dave sat forward in his seat anxiously, waiting for the woman to reply, feeling the agitation eating at him. She studied him disapprovingly from across her desk, shaking her head slightly. She opened her mouth to speak just as the door to her office opened and a young woman walked in. Dave’s eyes widened suddenly at the girl’s appearance. She was…well, she was obviously Down syndromed, that was the first thing he noticed. But more than that. He knew, like every other freeperson knew, mentally retarded children, as soon as their condition was diagnosed, were immediately given up for slavery. It was expected. It was normal. Whether they were born free or not, mentally disabled people were always slaves.
But this girl. This young woman walking into the doctor’s office, holding a stack of folders in her hands, carrying herself with a confidence and poise that only freepersons possessed…he could tell immediately, she was free.
The doctor narrowed her eyes at Dave as he stared, gaping at her assistant. “Thank you, Becky. That’s all I need for right now.”
“You’re welcome, Coach. I’m taking my lunch break now.”
“Alright,” she answered back, not taking her eyes off Dave as his eyes followed the girl out the door.
He turned back to her with an accusing look of his own. “How old is she?”
“That’s none of your--”
“And how long ago did she win her emancipation?”
“I’m finished with this conversation, Mr. Costanza. If you’ll excuse me…”
Dave sat back in his chair, not moving to get up as he eyed her again. “Just meet him. Come to my apartment when I’m not there if you want. Just look into his eyes and talk to him and then…then tell me he doesn’t deserve a chance at what Becky has.”
She sat back in her seat and they stared at each other for a long, tense moment, neither of them giving an inch. She finally huffed brusquely, knowing she’d probably lost this round. She finally shifted in her chair, reaching for her pen and making notes on her paperwork. She spoke quickly, not looking up at him. “I will meet him. But I make no promises. I charge $2000 for house visits, Mr. Kowalski. If you even hint at him what my purpose for being there is…I walk out and the deal is off.”
“Of course, yeah, I wouldn’t…” Dave nodded enthusiastically. “Dr. Sylvester,” he added softly, “I just want you to know, this is for Kurt. I have no selfish interests in this. Please believe me.”
“Whatever,” she removed her glasses and tossed them onto her desk, sitting back abruptly. “I get to decide that. And stop calling me ‘doctor.’ I prefer ‘coach.’ I like the athletic metaphor for my retraining and reconditioning sessions. It helps the slaves differentiate between doctors-with-needles and what I do.”
“Sure…coach, of course. Thank you.” He slipped his hand into his jacket breast pocket, pulling out his checkbook. “Do you take checks?”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Dave came home from work the next day a little earlier than usual. He walked through the front door to find Kurt on the couch and Grease playing on the TV. Kurt scrambled for the remote control, trying to stop the movie quickly, afraid he might be in trouble.
“Hey, it’s alright,” Dave told him. “I don’t mind if you finish watching it. You liked that one, huh?”
Kurt nodded shyly. He’d been able to pause the movie but when Dave toed off his shoes and walked around to the front of the couch and sat next to Kurt, Kurt’s eyes got bigger.
“Go ahead and start it. I’ll watch the rest of it with you.”
Kurt pressed play. The movie was near the end. They didn’t sing along this time, instead just paying attention to the story. Kurt glanced sideways at Dave a few times, smiling softly and looking down when their eyes met. The movie ended and they sat in silence for a moment. Dave could tell there was something on Kurt’s mind.
Finally, Kurt took a deep breath and spoke, “Dave, can I ask you something?”
“Of course, Kurt.”
Kurt looked down then glanced back towards the TV set. He thinned his lips slightly as he thought about his question. “At the end of the movie. At the very end when Danny and Sandy fly off in their car…is she going to pleasure him next?”
Dave chuckled, nodding his head in amusement, “Yeah, probably.”
Kurt studied his hands thoughtfully at his owner’s answer.
“But, actually, Kurt. It’s not really called that. Um, when people do it…I mean, when freepersons do it, they um…they call it sex, having sex. Or if you want to be mushy, you can call it making love. It’s different than what…um, slaves do.”
“How?” Kurt asked innocently, “How is it different?”
“Well, Danny and Sandy liked each other. They wanted to be together. Sex is more than just pleasure, it’s about emotions and having feelings for the person that you’re with. When you do it with someone you don’t have feelings for, like when a person does it with a slave…there’s never any emotion, you know. But having sex…in my opinion, at least, it’s supposed to be special. They call it making love because that’s what supposed to happen. You’re supposed to be in love.”
“Danny and Sandy were in love,” Kurt said, thinking out loud.
“Yeah, they were.”
Kurt stared into the distance for a minute longer, thinking, trying to figure it all out. His parents had been in love. But he never actually considered them…together like that. Pleasure was for freepersons. But with the pamphlets and his new understanding of where babies actually came from, he realized the obvious fact - his parents had broken the rules. There was something he wasn’t getting, something so close…he was almost there. He looked up at his owner, his eyes going wide as realization hit. “That’s why!” he gasped, bringing his hand up to his mouth. “That’s why you…you never…”
Dave could tell what he’d just figured out. After all this time, Kurt finally understood why Dave refused to use him for sexual services. “Yes, Kurt. That’s why. I just think…it’s supposed to mean something. Both people should enjoy it. If you don’t respect the person you’re with, then that makes it…cheap. That’s why I never let you…um, yeah.”
“You don’t like me!” Kurt replied, smiling widely.
“Well, no, Kurt…I like you…but just…”
“Not like Danny likes Sandy,” Kurt nodded his head enthusiastically. “We’re not in love,” he stated simply, like the realization was huge. Because it was.
“Well, yeah, I guess you’re right, Kurt.”
Kurt smiled proudly, obviously happy with himself for figuring out this huge thing. He looked back at the screen at the credits still playing, thinking still about what it all meant. All this time he thought his owner didn’t want his services because he wasn’t good enough. But now, Kurt understood…his owner…what’s the word? He twitched his lips as he thought. Respect! His owner had respect for him and that’s why he didn’t ask Kurt to pleasure him.
He sighed heavily as he turned back to see Dave’s still patient, smiling face. “Thank you for explaining this to me, Dave” he said quietly. He got up from the couch and headed towards the kitchen to start on dinner.
“You’re welcome,” Dave answered as he got up and followed him, leaning back against the kitchen counter and watching him for a moment. “Hey, Kurt. Um, can I ask you something?”
“Yes?” Kurt answered.
“Did you ever…um, did you ever decide what you were going to do with your pills?”
“Oh, yeah. I stopped taking them last week,” Kurt beamed proudly. “And I haven’t gotten sick. You were right.”
“Oh,” Dave answered, trying to hide his look of panic. A week, fuck…thanks for the heads up, Dave thought.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Dave headed out the door for work the following morning, turning back as he remembered. “Oh, Kurt?”
“Yes?” Kurt asked from the kitchen.
“Um, I have a…a friend stopping by today. Her name is um, Sue. Can you give her these papers by the front door when she gets here?”
Kurt walked forward, a pleasant smile on his face. “Of course, Dave. Anything else?”
“Um, well. She’s a…a good friend. Feel free to invite her in and…and make her feel welcome, alright? You can do that, can’t you?”
“Yes, sir. I will do my best to make her feel welcome. Have a good day.”
Dave swallowed. He felt like he should say something…something else to help Kurt out. But he couldn’t ruin it. Not when he’d finally found a psychologist willing to meet Kurt. He just really hoped it went well. “Ok, thanks. You have a great day, too.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The doorbell rang as Kurt was loading the washing machine. He smiled excitedly and went to the door, smoothing his clothes down and hoping his appearance was satisfactory. He opened the door and smiled. “Hello, welcome. You must be Mr. Karofsky’s friend, Sue.”
The tall, stern woman narrowed her eyes at him, twitching her lips for a moment. “You must be Kurt.”
“Yes, I am. Come in. Here are the papers my owner said you should have.” He handed the folder to the woman and stepped back. “May I get you some tea?”
She stepped into the apartment, eyeing the boy. “Do you know why I’m here, Kurt?” she asked accusingly.
“Yes, ma’am. Mr. Karofsky said that you were to pick up those papers. And that I should make you feel welcome.”
She walked into the apartment, the answer to her question obviously acceptable. For now. She’d bolt as soon as she realized Kurt knew her real reason for being there. She looked around nosily, taking in the stunning view of the city, the perfectly clean apartment, Kurt’s wide smile.
“I’ll make you some tea, if you’d like.”
“Sure,” she finally said. She walked around to the table and sat, placing the paperwork down and leafing through it briefly. She looked back up, watching Kurt as he worked. She could tell immediately, he did have a confidence to him that was rare in slaves. Dave had obviously been offering high praise to the boy. “Did I interrupt anything, Kurt?”
“Oh no, ma’am. I was only starting a load of clothes. You arrival is much more important than that.”
“But your chores are important, Kurt. Aren’t they?” she challenged.
“Yes, ma’am, of course. But not as important as people. And especially one of my owner’s friends.”
“What do you do here, for your master? What are your chores?”
“I have a detailed list of chores, ma’am. Today is laundry day. I wash, dry, fold and put away all our clothing. I also press Mr. Karofsky’s dress shirts and take his suits to the dry cleaners.” There was an awkward silence between them, Kurt was nervous as he turned back from the stovetop. “Um, may I ask what you do, ma’am?” he was trying to be polite and he knew it was rude to speak only of himself.
“I’m sort of a coach, Kurt.” She narrowed her eyes again at the boy. “I help people…learn new skills.”
“Oh, that sounds lovely,” Kurt answered, not sure what she meant but not being rude by pressing. “Would you care for lemon or honey for your tea?”
“No,” she answered sternly. “Tell me more about what you do here. More than just the laundry, I’m sure.”
Kurt smiled, he was trying not to let his nervousness show. “I also take care of Mr. Karofsky’s dog, Zeke. I have him in Mr. Karofsky’s room right now since visitors get him excited and I wasn’t sure if you liked dogs.” Kurt set the mug of tea on the table and waited patiently for her to try it. “There are other chores as well. And…and I do have time to myself when I’m not working. Time for my…hobby.”
She had raised the cup to her lips but put it down when Kurt mentioned his hobby. “A hobby, Kurt? Really? And what is that?”
Kurt smiled shyly at the floor. “I like to draw, ma’am.”
“You mean, your master likes for you to draw, right? You draw to please your master, don’t you, Kurt?”
Kurt lost his smile. He wasn’t sure how to respond but he knew he had to be truthful. “My…my master suggested that I choose a hobby when I first came here to be his housekeeper, ma’am. I had never drawn before. But I tried it and I found that it makes me happy. So, honestly, to answer your question…I draw to please myself, ma’am.”
She huffed, finally taking a sip of her tea and looking somewhat disapprovingly at Kurt.
He twisted his hands nervously, attempting a polite smile.
She set her cup down, still eyeing him. “I’d like to see these drawings of yours, Kurt,” she sat back in her seat and crossed her arms over her chest.
Kurt stammered, “Of...of course, ma’am. Um, they’re in my room. Would you…” he motioned for her to follow him. “Would you like to follow me?”
She stood, following him down the short hall and into his room. She noted the clean perfection of the room, the organized desk, the bookshelf with three books on it. Kurt picked up his sketchbook, opened to the first page and handed it to her.
She looked down at the picture skeptically then back up at Kurt. “You drew this?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he answered quietly.
She turned the page, studying the pictures, the details, the colors. “Why do you only draw this woman? Who is she?”
“She was my mother. I…I like to remember her face when I’m by myself or when I’m confused about things.” He spoke quietly, not sure how much of his story he should give away.
“Confused about what?” Sue pressed.
Kurt faltered. He wasn’t sure if he should tell this woman the story behind his mother’s smile. He looked up at Sue, nervously searching her face. He knew he couldn’t get in trouble for his secret, not now. His time spent at the facility was different, he was constantly afraid of being found out. But now, now things were different. He didn’t have to worry about getting in trouble, he didn’t have to worry about keeping his secret hidden any longer. He could tell his master’s friend. He looked back at the picture, tracing it lightly with his fingers, “She said…it was a secret.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Sue called Dave at work the following day. “Just wanted you to know, you were right. Don’t let it go to your head. He still has a ways to go before he can reconcile his need to please a master with his desire for autonomy. But he’s pretty close.”
Dave was floored. “Really? Wow…um, I’m really glad you gave him a chance. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. Like I said, he has some things he still needs to figure out. On his own. Especially when it comes to his capacity for emotion.”
“Emotion? You mean, sadness, loneliness? Um, what does he have to figure--”
“No, Bubba, I mean his ability to understand and desire romantic companionship. Love, in layman’s terms. Kurt is different, you were right. He’s survived all Schuester’s mental conditioning with his ability to love still intact.”
“What?” Dave slumped into his chair, holding his phone to his ear as he stared across his office. “I thought he’d said something about love once, but I didn’t think…I didn’t know he could…”
“Yeah well. Mazel tov,” Sue answered. “But listen to me very carefully here. Kurt is still very much a slave and thinks like a slave. Your slave, Mr. Kazynski. Whatever your intentions are towards Kurt, you must not in any way, tell him that you want to develop a relationship with him.”
“What? I…I don’t…I…”
“I’m not speaking just to hear the sound of my voice here, as nice as I believe it is. We’re talking about human biology, Bubba, you can’t fight it. What I’m telling you is this…if Kurt knows, or if Kurt even suspects that you want him to reciprocate feelings for you, then of course…he will. Without hesitation. Because he’s your slave and that’s what they do. They please. And you…you’ll never know, you’ll never be certain if he’s truly doing that to please you because you are his master…or if he wants to love you back for himself. He must make the first move. He must find the confidence in himself, at some point, so that he initiates things. Do you understand?”
Dave was stunned. He simply wanted Kurt to be free. He hadn’t considered what that future free life would include. Of course, he selfishly wanted to be a part of it. He hoped that, maybe, Kurt would agree to stay with him. Dave thought maybe he’d be more like a roommate. A roommate who did most of the cleaning, of course. He could let him live there for free and they’d continue on like they were, just as equals instead.
But fuck…he never really thought about anything past that. Maybe he really was being the naïve one here. A psychologist, trained in the very field Dave was so blindly trying to navigate, was telling him Kurt could love. Kurt might actually, someday…love him? It was a lot to take in.
Sue was speaking again, Dave tried to catch up. “So I wanted you to know, I’m ripping up your check. My time spent yesterday with Kurt and the time I hope to spend with him over the next few weeks, he’ll be teaching me things I’m sure. Things I’ve never been able to learn despite my master’s degree in psychology. Things I never thought possible in the last 29 years of my life as a freeperson.”
Dave stammered, “You…you were…a…?”
“That doesn’t matter, Mr. Karchoff. I’ll stop by next week and Kurt and I will get started. Tell him to expect me.”
“Thank you, doctor…um, Coach. Thank you.” Dave hung up his phone, still staring blankly across the room. Things had changed irreversibly over the past ten minutes and Dave was trying hard to sort out his jumbled thoughts. One thought kept surfacing however, stronger and more persistent than the others. Kurt could love. Kurt might actually, someday love him.