I Was Servant to My Inner Master

The woman stopped at the beginning of the rows with wooden beams in warehouse number one. Her ponytail flеw in the air while she glanced around. I sighed and crossed my fingers. She was willing to break a Rule for the third time. It was a lunch break. All the other people were in the hall or on the benches in the garden. Only she wasn't there. And one more person. A man. He was near, somewhere between the wooden lines, waiting for her.

I knew this because I saw him a couple of minutes ago. After all, my job was to observe all the people in that place. It was a part of their change from convicted criminals into law-abiding citizens. Two years ago, they would have been in prison cells, but the Law became more merciful. Their sentence changed to forced labour instead of imprisonment.

The place was not a quarry or a mine. Not at all. We were in a factory for wooden products - they as workers, and I was one of their supervisors. We were useless here. The computers could do all of the work, but the Law needed us for Its purpose. I didn't complain. Watching the screens was a solitary and quiet task - just what I needed. There were a few problems.

One of these problems was in front of my eyes that day. Well, none of the Rules stated, "Stay out of the work area during the lunch break", but the intimacy between the prisoners was strictly prohibited. It was idiotic, from my point of view, as a human being. Is it possible to stop the natural human need for love and pleasure?! As a supervisor, I had to follow the Rules. This contradiction embittered my calm duty.

I felt the bitterness coming in my soul when the man left the workrooms and went left to warehouse number two. The woman appeared from the door to the garden and went straight ahead for the workrooms. Both of them disappeared between the wooden piles, but no one came out. Any other supervisor would miss this. Not me. I am perfect. I watch and see.

As in the previous two times, I didn't expect them to linger. No more than a quarter of an hour - that's what they needed. It was enough. I knew it from my experience - Linda and I could have done it in less time. The forbidden deed was raising our desire to unbelievable heights.

My heart was pounding, tightened in a chilling straitjacket. I was obliged to report these offenders. Immediately. At the moment when I had proof of prohibited behaviour. I had it. Not because I witnessed their previous sexual acts, but because I had seen them afterwards. The enjoyment shone out of their faces and movements. Linda and I were the same after each of our situations.

I jumped to my feet and stared at the crates in the upper right corner of the image, shown by camera number five. The couple was right there. I had to do something. The three of us showed disrespect for the rules for the third time. My lips pursed because I knew what I would find.

If anyone could see me walking through the warehouse, they would not tell the difference between the prisoners and me. Silent and vibrating, I sneaked between the wooden piles, driven by my fidelity to the Rules.

The couple was in a spot where I expected - between the wall and the blue crates. They were facing each other. The man was almost lying on the floor, with his head and shoulders on the wall. The woman was riding him, holding his shoulders. The greenery of their work clothes was interrupted in the waist by the whiteness of their bare skin. I froze when I saw their faces. They were the pure essence of mutual passion with no hint of coercion. This event was not a fucking. It was lovemaking.

I stepped back and closed my eyes. My legs trembled and forced me to sit on the floor. Pain erupted in my chest and almost stopped my breathing. What should I do? It was not an easy question. If I don't stop the lovers, I won't fulfil my duty as a supervisor. If I stop them, I'll be the same person as Tim, Linda's brother. He also had his Rules -- no intimacy with someone who is not your spouse, don't say lies, the sex is not for pleasure, don't use condoms. I knew them, and Linda knew them. Our passion was too overwhelming, leading us to the inevitable end.

A whirlwind of memories burst in my head. In an attempt to drive them away, I started banging my head on the crates. The dizziness turned the shadows from the past into a roaring fog. It was a painful but pleasant relief.

Unfortunately, my ears had not lost all sensitivity to the sounds around me. I heard the clatter of two pairs of legs beside me. I wish I hadn't listened to these sounds. They proved my failure both as a supervisor and as a human. This event did not have to end that way. If I were not a servant of my inner master, I would have found the right solution.