Another month had passed. The new Inspector had settled into his new role. He enjoyed the new respect and enjoyed having an office. The Inspector enjoyed sitting in his office smoking cigarettes, alone.

But he missed being on the street - missed the fear he could instill in the proles. The new Inspector now sat in his office and reviewed operations reports, set-up new operations, signed overtime reports, ordered new equipment, dealt with personnel, prepared reports for the Chief Inspector, made sure the operations team looked sharp, and prepared more reports.

The new Inspector attended planning meetings, wrote out incident reports, disciplined staff, performed staff reviews, rewarded staff, contacted maintenance to have the patrol vehicles serviced, sent reports to data storage, requested reports from data storage, examined case files, and planned operations.

He never got the chance to beat up a prole up anymore, or threaten someone with death, or actually kill anyone. Life as an Inspector at the People’s Ministry of State Security and Policing had left the smoking man depressed.

He knew he couldn’t go back to the patrols. That was over for him. Life without the violence had left him empty and hollow.

He had been drinking in his office, alone, smoking cigarettes and looking at the pile of equipment requisitions and overtime reports he had to review and sign. He got up and grabbed his hat, and walked to the elevator. He arrived in the parking garage and walked to his car.

He drove through the night streets of Victorious, smoking. He thought he could stop someone - ask for their papers. Ask them what they’ve been doing, where they were going? If they hesitated or gave him a wrong look he could beat them. Maybe he could put his gun in their mouth, cock the hammer, put his finger on the trigger and squeeze it a little. Look them in the eyes and see their terror - knowing there was nothing anyone could do to stop him. Feel alive again.

He drove for hours. Hours of patrolling. Looking at everyone. Looking for the right one. He stopped and waited at the corner of a street - it was well lit. People would be coming this way. He would wait until he saw someone. Someone alone. He would get out and stop them - flash his badge. Where are you going, he would say. Home, they would say. Where have you been?. At work. Show me your papers. Is there a problem officer? And then he would punch them in the face. There is a fucking problem now. They would fall down. He would punch them again. He would pull his gun out. Don’t, Please, I was just going home. They always say please. He would grab them by their hair. He would put the gun in their mouth. He would cock the hammer. He would put his finger on the trigger and squeeze it - just a little bit. They would be terrified. He would see it in their eyes. There would be nothing they could do to stop him.

A couple walked past, holding hands. She laughed at something he had said. They were in love.

He lit a cigarette and he thought of her. He had put her in the box. The box wouldn’t close so he had put it to one side - just out of sight. He had forgotten about her in the box, but now the box was open again and in front of him.

He imagined walking home with her, just like that couple. They would be holding hands. She would laugh at something he had said. Not something vulgar, but something witty or funny.

They would have gone for dinner. They were walking back to her flat. They had drunk a couple of bottles of wine. Steak. And desert. She had had a lovely time with him and she loved him - and he loved her and they were happy.

He started the car and drove.

The next day at the People’s Ministry of State Security and Policing the new Inspector sat alone in his office, smoking.

There was a knock at the door.

‘What?’ - He said.

A woman opened the door and poked her head in - ‘Morning Inspector, the 20th floor is looking for those OR17 reports - have you reviewed and signed them?’

‘No’ - the Inspector said.

‘When shall I tell them they will be ready, Inspector?’

‘Later.’

‘Later this morning?’

‘Later.’

‘Later today?’

‘FUCKING LATER!’ - The new Inspector screamed.

‘Yes Inspector - sorry sir’ - the woman closed the door and hurried away.

The new Inspector sat and smoked - alone.

He picked up the phone and dialed a three digit number, and waited.

‘Get me a phone book’ - he said, and then hung up the phone.

The new Inspector sat and waited.

There was another knock at the door.

‘Come.’

The same woman opened the door and stepped in holding a Victorious Metropolitan telephone directory.

‘Here you are Inspector, sir’ - the woman said, trying to smile.

‘Get out’ - the new Inspector snatched the phone book from the woman.

The woman got out, and closed the office door behind her.

The new Inspector stubbed his cigarette out, and flipped through the telephone directory until he found the page he was looking for. He picked up a pen and wrote down a number in his notebook and then stood up, grabbed his hat and left his office.

The new Inspector got the elevator down to the ground floor and then left the People’s Ministry of State Security and Policing. He crossed the road and walked down the street until he came to a public phone box.

He dropped a shilling coin in the phone box and then dialed the number he had written down in his notebook.

‘Golden leaf’ - A sultry sounding voice said on the other side of the line.

‘Erm, hello’ - the new Inspector said.

‘Do you want to make an appointment’ - The sultry voice asked.

‘Yes, with Karla’ - the new Inspector said.

‘What time darling?’

‘7.’

‘How long sweetie?’

‘90 minutes.’

‘Name?’

‘Erm...Brian’ - the new Inspector said.

‘See you at 7, Brian’ - the sultry voice said, and hung up.

The new Inspector couldn’t handle going back to the 16th floor. He looked at his watch. It was 10:30 AM.

The new Inspector walked to the Bloody Bayonet and stepped into the bar.

‘Pint of Victory’ - the new Inspector said to the barman.

The barman pulled the pint into a glass tankard and then put it on the bar.

‘Two shillings, comrade’ - the barman said.

The new Inspector paid the barman and sipped his pint of beer.

Two men were sitting at a table by the window, they were talking to each other and one of the men laughed.

The new Inspector looked over at the two men, and then carried on drinking his beer.

The men both laughed again, loudly.

The new Inspector put down his beer and walked over to the two men.

‘What’s so fucking funny?’ - The new Inspector stood over the men.

‘What?’ - Asked one of the men, a large man with a shaved head and a red, meaty face.

‘Are you fucking deaf? I said what is so fucking funny?’

‘We’re just having a drink mate - mind your own business’ - said the meaty-faced man.

The new Inspector pulled his wallet out and flashed his badge at the meaty faced man - ‘Everything is my fucking business. Now what is so fucking funny?’

‘Comrade - we’re just having a drink’ - said the other man. He was slim faced with a wiry red beard and mustache - ‘No offense, we’ll keep the noise down.’

‘I am not your fucking comrade and I am not your mate’ - the new Inspector glared at the slim faced man.

The slim faced man saw the tie bar the new Inspector was wearing - ‘We are Comrades, we are party affairs on the 13th. We just finished a night shift and we were getting a drink before heading home. No offense, we will keep it down, Inspector.’

The new Inspector turned, and walked back to the bar. As he was walking back he heard the meaty faced man mutter - ‘What a cunt.’

The new Inspector continued to the bar and sipped his pint. He put his hand inside his jacket and found the grip of his gun.

He would turn around and walk back up to the fat-faced cunt and put the gun to his head. “What did you fucking say” - he would say. The other cunt would shit himself - ‘What the fuck are you doing comrade!’ - He would say. The fat faced cunt would say - ‘I’m sorry comrade - I didn’t mean anything. Please.’ They always say please. He would cock the hammer of the gun and squeeze the trigger and then the hammer would drop, and the hammer would hit the primer of the cartridge, which would ignite the cordite, which would force the bullet through the barrel of the gun, where it would exit the barrel and rip through that fat faced cunt’s head, killing him in an instant. No more laughing for you my party affairs comrade from the 13th floor.

The new Inspector took his hand off of the grip of his gun. He drank his beer. The meaty faced man and the slim tall man continued to talk and laugh.

The new Inspector left the Bloody Bayonet and walked - without direction - through the streets of Victorious.

Several hours later the new Inspector stepped out of the elevator on the 16th floor and walked past the reception desk. The receptionist looked up - ‘Ah, Inspector sir - the Chief Inspector is looking for you.’

The new Inspector walked past the receptionist and didn’t respond. He walked to his office and closed the door behind him. He took off his hat and hung it on the coat stand in the corner. The new Inspector walked behind his desk and sat down. He opened the desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of Victory brand whiskey. He opened the bottle and took a large swig, and then another.

The new Inspector put the bottle back in the desk draw, lit a cigarette, and sat staring ahead.

The office door burst open - it was the Chief Inspector.

‘What the fuck is going on, Inspector?’ - the Chief Inspector said.

‘Oh...hello Chief’ - the new Inspector snapped back to the present, and sat up straight.

‘I have had the 20th floor on the phone to me all fucking day - they are waiting for a pile of OR17s.’

‘Yes Chief - I am working on them this morning’ - the new Inspector pulled a pile of files towards him, and tried to smile.

‘This fucking morning?’ - The Chief Inspector said - ‘It is nearly 6 PM.’

‘Yes Chief - I meant today. I will finish them up today - nearly done.’

‘They fucking better be, comrade - the 20th floor has been on the phone all day asking for them.’

‘Yes Chief - finishing them off now.’

The Chief Inspector stared for a moment, and then left - slamming the door behind him.

The new Inspector opened the desk drawer and took out the bottle of whiskey again, and took another large swig. The new Inspector didn’t place the bottle back in the drawer, he opened the top file from the pile. He smoked and looked at the report. The words blurred into nothing. He tried to read the first page, but none of it made any sense - it was just a garbled mess of words and numbers.

The new Inspector was supposed to read the reports and then sign them off as statements of fact to support state security policing operations.

The new Inspector picked up his pen, and signed the cover sheet and closed the file. He opened the next and signed the cover sheet, and then the next, and the next.

The new Inspector looked at his watch - 6:20 PM. All the OR17 reports were signed off and in a neat stack. He took another swig from the whiskey bottle and then closed it and put it in the desk drawer. He lit a cigarette and stood. He walked out of his office and stepped into the corridor and shouted - ‘Get these fucking reports up to the 20th floor now!’

The same woman who had earlier been looking for OR17 reports poked her head out of an office three doors down the corridor - she had a look of dread on her face.

‘Yes sir Inspector sir’ - she said.

‘Now!’

The new Inspector went back into his office and collected his hat, and then left towards reception and the elevators.

The new Inspector’s car pulled up outside the Golden Leaf Holistic Personal Care Spa. He was smoking a cigarette. The new Inspector looked at his watch - 7:10 PM.

The new Inspector took off his tie bar and placed it in the cup holder. He took his gun out of the holster and placed it in the glove box, and unclipped his shoulder holster, throwing it onto the passenger seat. The new Inspector stepped out of the car and walked across the street to the Golden Leaf Spa.

The new Inspector stepped into the small, dim reception area. He walked to the desk and dinged the bell.

A different woman stepped through the bead curtain. The woman was in her forties, and had bleached blond hair with dark roots.

‘Yes?’ - The woman said, in the same sultry voice from over the phone.

‘I have an appointment with Karla - 90 minutes’ - the new Inspector said.

‘Brian?’ - The sultry voiced woman said.

‘Yes’ - the new Inspector said.

‘VIP room baby?’ - The sultry voiced woman said

‘Yes.’

‘200 sweetie.’

The new Inspector took out his wallet and took out 200 shillings that he gave to the sultry voiced woman.

‘Thanks you sweetie’ - the sultry voiced woman placed the money in a drawer - ‘Follow me.’

The woman stepped through the bead curtain and into the dim red lit corridor. The new Inspector followed - his stomach full of nervous excitement.

He hadn’t felt this alive for weeks, months. He felt excited, he felt nervous, he felt happy. He felt something!

The sultry woman stopped outside room 9 and opened the door - ‘Have a shower and make yourself comfortable - Karla will be with you shortly.’

The new Inspector stepped into room 9. It was the same as before.

He didn’t undress or shower. He wasn’t sure how Karla would react to seeing him. He walked to the drinks cabinet and poured himself a large whiskey. He sat on the sofa and lit a cigarette - sipping the whiskey.

His stomach was like a washing machine. Would Karla see him and then turn and run? Would she hate him? Would she cause a scene? Would it be like before - before she stepped into his world?

The new Inspector sat and smoked and drank, biding his time. Five minutes passed, then five more. And then there was a knock at the door, and then the door opened.

Karla stepped into the dim room number 9. She looked and saw him and paused, but didn’t say anything. Karla just stood by the door and looked at him, frozen.

‘Hello Karla’ - said the new Inspector, trying to look calm and collected.

And then Karla closed the door, and smiled.

‘Hello you’ - she said.

Karla was wearing a pink fishnet g-string, and matching pink fishnet bra. Her long legs were covered in pink fishnet stockings, and on her feet she wore black stiletto shoes. She looked just like the new Inspector remembered - her pretty pale face, smoky eyes, luscious red lips, and long black hair. Her large breasts barely contained inside the pink fishnet bra.

‘Back for more?’ - Karla asked, walking to the drinks cabinet and pouring herself a whiskey with ice.

Karla turned and smiled again, sipping her whiskey - leaning against the drinks cabinet.

‘Yes’ - said the new Inspector.

‘The same as before?’

‘Yes.’

‘Exactly as before?’

‘Yes.’

‘Like a moth to the flame’ - said Karla, as she walked over to the sofa and sat. She put her drink on the table and took one of the new Inspector’s cigarettes. The new Inspector lit the cigarette for Karla and she inhaled the smoke, blowing it out above the head of the inspector.

Karla picked up her drink and held it out - ‘Bottoms up baby.’

The new Inspector and Karla clinked glasses, and then they each took a sip.

Karla took another puff from her cigarette, and then leaned forward and kissed the new Inspector on the lips.

The new Inspector paid Karla 300 shillings and then Karla tied up the new Inspector, gagged him, and raped the new Inspector. They showered together, and kissed, and drank whiskey, and smoked, and there was tenderness.

The new Inspector became a regular customer of Karla. He visited her at the Golden Leaf at least once a week - sometimes more.

The new Inspector - for the first time in his life - felt something.