The Dorić Diaries

"Do you understand?" Bogdanic asked, his voice sounding strangely shrill.

There was a short silence that hung uneasily in the air. He was about to repeat his question when the man in the chair, Blažanović, answered.

"I went to see Andrej in the hospital before I came here and you know what I saw?" he paused for effect before continuing, "I saw a soldier sucking lunch through a straw! That is how fucked-up he is! A fucking straw! His mouth is wired shut and he cannot see out of one eye. He is like a brother to me ... like these men."

He motioned to the two standing behind him and sat still staring at the Assistant making the short man very uncomfortable.

"Now, what do you suggest I do? Play the violin and serenade this lunatic?" he resumed, "This Dorić, he is not going to listen to talk. I know these people - they have no fucking respect. They confuse pride with insolence. If you want us to take care of this you cannot tie our hands," the man said in a deep, hoarse voice.

He paused again and then began deliberately, "And, yes, I knew Stefan Fucking Dorić. I knew him before they turned him into a God, some bigger-than-life hero. He was just some stubborn asshole ... an ordinary prick that lived in the mountains. That is, until he began believing the shit they said about him and it got him killed. Without law and order we become like animals and if some have to be sacrificed for the greater good; then so be it!"

"I heard that he was murdered by cowards, shot from the back!" Bogdanic retorted unable to resist the dig.

"Dead is dead," the man replied without hesitation.

"Maybe so but you created a martyr!"

"Who cares, the trouble went away and we now have control!" the man said without raising his voice.

"And we want to keep it that way. We do not need another martyr ... especially a Dorić!" Bogdanic replied, parrying the comment effortlessly.

There was a short silence and then the man shrugged and replied, "We will reason with the man but sometimes reasoning alone is not sufficient and we are forced to resort to other methods. And as you yourself have seen, this Petar Dorić is an unreasonable man given to violence ... very much like his grandfather!"

He paused then leaning over the desk he added, "I am not Gandhi! If someone pushes me, I push back!"

"Fire with fire!" said one of the men standing behind Blažanović.

His clone nodded in agreement. They hadn't said a word until then.

Bogdanic was afraid of this. He understood the implication and the threat that lay behind them. Petar wasn't going to be talked into acquiescing to the Director's whims and after what he did to Andrej, Bogdanic wasn't completely convinced that these three Neanderthals could fare any better.

He sat staring at the ceiling trying to come up with a solution but the more he thought about this the more he realized that there was no way around this. He felt the burning in the pit of his stomach and realized that his ulcer was acting up again.

Bogdanic was a Croat and a Protestant and had an inherent dislike for the Serb. But he felt defeated. He leaned back in his chair and looked at Blažanović with resignation.

"Do what you have to but do not hurt him too badly! Try the father, talk to him first ... reason with him. That is straight from the boss!"

They spoke some more and then the three men left the office.

Andro Bogdanic remained slumped in his chair staring out of the window feeling a sense of helplessness creeping into his soul. The cold, icy fingers that squeezed at his heart constricted his very core until he thought he would pass out. And, with this came the stark realization of his situation: Lucian Dragovic and Petar Dorić! I am caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. None of this was going to end well and he was stuck plum in the middle of it. He tugged compulsively at his mustache while images of Petar smashing in the bodyguard's face crippled his thoughts.

He shook his head trying to clear his mind.

"Fuck, I need a drink," he said out loud and got up off the chair.

*******

Two days later, after the incident with Bogdanic and his driver, several officers from the Land Reform and Survey Department arrived at the farm. They informed us that this was only a formality and that the Census and Land Act of 1975 mandated periodic surveys of farmlands. It was a strange coincidence that they were here right after the fracas with Petar.

My father didn't think much about it and went about his daily chores. Petar, fortunately, had gone to the market to pick up some grain and feed for the animals. And, after what had transpired, I think we were all relieved that he wasn't home. When he returned, much to our surprise, he ignored the surveyors and got busy with unloading the truck and I went over and helped him.

"Hi Petar, was there anything interesting at the market?" I asked hoping to get him to talk.

He put the sack down and wiping the beads of sweat off his forehead looked over at me. I could see his expression softening but he ignored the question.

"Don't be like the others, Andy, frightened of their own shadows and pissing like women at the sight of these assholes!" He said softly, motioning with his head towards the government workers, "Don't ever be a slave. We come from a long line of free men -- we have no masters. Our women are not commodities to be bartered or traded. You remember Grandfather, you hear."

He smiled, his blue eyes glinting in the sunlight, before he went back to work.

Grandpa Stefan was a legend in these parts. A man revered for his courage and his indomitable spirit. He had stood up to the corrupt government officials and, on more than one occasion, chased them off his land when they had come looking for bribes.

With help from the local diocesan, he had organized the farmers so that the uninterrupted ringing of the church's bell meant that they were to convene at the parish. And slowly the peasants of the region found strength in numbers and were beginning to take a stand.

The taste of freedom often brings with it unrestrained optimism and hope, especially for those in shackles, and in their efforts to further their gains the people turned to a natural leader, one who was unafraid of the Government. Stefan Dorić was their man. He cut an imposing figure, tall and swarthy with dark penetrating eyes and a hard, fierce face. He was uncompromising and defiant with a personality that did not humor fools. The people in power, the heads of the regional government, began to fear him and with this fear came resentment which led to dislike and the overwhelming need to have him out of the way.

One cold night, shrouded in the desolate darkness of winter, he was shot in the back of the head while he checked on his sheep. It was a single shot by a sniper using a SVT-40, Tokarev Rifle and taken from over five hundred yards away. The bullet, a hollow point, copper tipped ordinance had flattened on impact, tearing away the top half of my grandfather's head so that you could hardly recognize him. The wake had been a closed casket affair and the family had been deeply hurt.

Though we knew it was the work of the militia we could never prove this. There were rumors that a killer from Montenegro, a Serb with a reputation as an enforcer, was the man behind the assassination but that was all it was -- conjecture.

Now a generation removed, Petar was the reincarnation of Grandpa Stefan. Not in looks but in spirit. I looked over at my brother, my heart filling with pride.

Petar's strength never ceased to amaze me. It was evident in the ease with which Petar carried those heavy bags of grain. Even the surveyors stopped to watch him work. One of the men who had been using the leveling scope near the barn shook his head in awe.

"He is like Hercules ..." he muttered to no one in particular.

Later that evening while we were washing up, the lead surveyor came over to Papa. He was an older man with gray, thinning hair, a pencil line of a mustache and round, grandma glasses. He seemed friendly and innocuous.

"Dorić, we are done. No major issues except that your Pig Pen is encroaching on Government property ... not a big deal but you may see a small fine and an increase in property tax beginning next month, that is, if you do not move it. My suggestion is that you should move it. You have plenty of space for the pigs. Otherwise, buy the land from the Government."

He stood quietly watching my father washing his hands and when Papa didn't respond he said, "I knew your father ... he was a great man."

"Thank you. When? I mean, when will I see the increase in taxes?" Papa asked.

"Maybe next month, but that is decided by the Director's office. You will have to talk to them." He replied and then added, "We only assess the farmlands and write a report. But it should not be much."

"Can you show me where the exact boundaries are?" Papa asked.

The man nodded and the two of them walked towards the pigpen while we finished washing up. I wasn't sure what was going on but Petar hadn't said a word to Papa since he had come back from the market.

*******

The next day was Saturday, Market day. Papa was considering moving the pigpen to a new location, off of the government's property and nearer to the pond. Petar and he were going to spend the morning studying the options so it was decided that Sasha and I would handle the Market duties between us. Laura had wanted to come but mother needed help in the kitchen so she stayed back and Krissy was given the chore of washing the clothes. She hated laundry duty but that was the luck of the draw.

It was a relatively slow day and all I could think of was how beautiful Sasha looked. She was wearing a thin, translucent dress with lace embroidery and a sash that pulled it tightly around her. It showed off her spectacular body. Big, firm tits, a perfectly rounded ass and skin that was flawless. Her thick, dark hair fringed her face and fell to her shoulders with a single braid in the back interwoven with a red ribbon through it.

I was drawn to her like a moth to a flams and early in the day, when she was talking to some customers, leaning over the counter, I couldn't help myself, I 'accidently' brushed up against her. I think she knew what was going on and I was pretty sure that she was going to be angry but she looked back at me and smiled.

Just then a friend of hers, Vera Horvat, a girl from the old neighborhood stopped by. Vera was a few years older than Sasha and her family had a meat stall in the back. She also had quite the reputation with men. It had been a while since I had seen her and gave her my best "I'm now a Man" look.

She smiled up at me and remarked, "My, my ... Andelko, you are getting to be a handsome devil! I'll bet the girls in school are all over you, unh? Or are you like Petar, also in love with your sister?"

The "I'm a Man" look vanished and I felt my cheeks burning and saw them both laughing at my obvious uneasiness. They had moved to a corner where they continued to talk; their conspiratorial chatter often accompanied by sly glances in my direction which were inevitably followed by giggles and more laughter. I was bursting with curiosity but dared not venture too close to them and instead stayed by the counter looking away with feigned indifference.

After Vera had left I turned to Sasha and asked, "Hey, what was she saying about me?"

"Oh, nothing, baby brother ... just girl-talk!" Sasha replied.

But I persisted.

"Come on, Sasha, please? What did she say?"

"Why? Why do you care what Vera says?"

"Because ... well, she is kind of pretty and ... come on! Don't make me beg!"

She looked up from the floor where she was kneeling to put away some of the items we had hadn't sold. When she looked up at me her large, green eyes were sparkling like aquamarines and she absent mindedly pushed back some strands of hair that had fallen across her face and sighed.

"You really want to know?" she asked.

I nodded.

"She thinks you're gorgeous and wanted to know if I had tasted some of that forbidden fruit!"

I swallowed hard and wasn't sure I heard her correctly. But then it sank in and I thought I would die. I looked at my sister in shock and embarrassment. I felt certain now that Vera had seen through my façade and guessed that I had a thing for my sister. I turned, my face flaming red, and went to bring the cart to the stall -- I had to get away before Sasha thought I was a complete idiot.

Then later, when we were packing up to go back home, she came over and gave me a hug. I think she felt sorry for me.

"My Andelko, you are becoming a man ... so quickly. Never mind Vera; it is okay to love your sister but I have to be careful with you, baby!" She said smiling and looking into my eyes. I felt my cock stirring and bit my lip and blushed again.

I could smell the lingering fragrance of Jasmine on her and held on to her not quite sure what was going to happen but happy that she wasn't angry with me. We hugged awkwardly as I pulled her tightly against me.

After a while she pushed me back, "We had better go ... and you, you behave yourself or I may just have to see how much of man you really are!"

She added the last bit playfully and laughed making me laugh too. We were almost done packing when Lucian Dragovic arrived at the stall. He stood there unobtrusively watching us load the cart until I noticed him and nudged Sasha.

She looked up startled by the sight of the Director.

"Miss Dorić, you look lovelier each time I see you. Can you do me a favor and ask your father to come and see me. It is important. We have to discuss the new survey that was done on the farm. There are some irregularities which have to be resolved."

Sasha responded by nodding her head, "I will let him know, Director."

He looked at her for a while then said, "Please call me Lucian. How did you like the perfume? Was it to your taste?"

I saw her cringe but she caught herself and smiled. I think she was hoping that he wouldn't bring it up. She looked down, gathering her thoughts before answering.

"It was too extravagant. I was impulsive and opened the bottle but I would like to return it without meaning any offense," she answered, "It is not right for me to accept a gift of such value and ... and I really don't know you well enough!"

The last bit came out in a rush. I sensed her uneasiness and went over and stood near her but the tall man ignored me.

"Please, Sasha, don't do that. It would only serve to insult me. It's a gift and I am happy that you like it." He said his voice taking on an avuncular tone. "Please keep it -- do it as a favor to me. And I would like to get to know you better so we don't have to be strangers."

She fell silent again, looking away, lost in thought. Then finally, she looked up at him.

"I hope that man, the driver, is getting better ... we are all sorry that it happened." Sasha murmured.

Lucian didn't reply but instead he walked a few steps closer and then stopped and bobbed his head like a giant egret. It was a nervous habit which he couldn't control but his face had turned cold.

"That was a foolish thing your brother did, a very foolish thing indeed. But, it is done and there is nothing we can do about that. Please, don't forget to speak to your father," he said and just before leaving, added, "Tell your brother to be careful. That man has friends and they are not very nice people and unlike me, they do not have much patience."

There was no mistaking the threat.

We watched him as he walked away from us, his lanky silhouette melting in and out of the shadows, until he had exited the building and then, almost simultaneously, we burst out laughing. I think for Sasha it was a release from the stress of being around that strange man. As for me, I was thrilled by what she had said to me earlier -- about my being a man and especially the part about the forbidden fruit.

"That freak likes you!" I teased.

"Look who's calling whom a freak!" she responded, giggling softly.

She slapped me playfully on my butt and we resumed loading the cart with Sasha humming to herself. I couldn't help myself; I kept looking over at her wondering whether she knew just how attracted I was to her. And when we were almost done, I walked over and impulsively hugged her from the back. She did not protest and instead leaned back resting her head against my neck. I heard her sigh softly as I tightened my grip around her, my fingers brushing the underside of her breasts. I was certain she could feel my erection pressing into her ass, throbbing in time to the rhythm of my heart.

We stood without moving for a while, our bodies glued together, neither one wanting or willing to breach the moment until finally, she whispered, "We have to go home, baby."

I let her go reluctantly and she turned and tiptoeing up, kissed me on the lips, a kiss that was gentle and sweet. She then cupped my face in her hands and looked into my eyes and I felt my head begin to spin as I lost myself, drowning in those emerald pools of liquid seduction.

This was going to be a new chapter for both of us.

End of Part I

*******