Project Sexpionage

It was 8 am in London, the beginning of yet another dreary day. And there is nothing drearier than a government building on a rainy day. This ran through the mind of Andy, the fat, 29 year old security guard at the SIS building at Vauxhall Cross. But, Andy didn’t tell his friends and family that he worked at the SIS building. He told them he worked at the MI6 building. A much sexier name, that, he thought. His friends at the pub didn’t quite believe that he worked at the building of Britain’s highest and most clandestine spy agency, but work there he did.

Andy saw a tall man walk through the front doors that he recognized. “Ello, Mr. Sloane,” Andy said. “Hello, Andy” the man said as he walked around the metal detector. “Fine weather we’re having.” “Yessir, hope we have ten more just like it.” Andy replied. Mr. Sloane, a tall and slender man, smiled as he walked down the hall towards the elevators. Such colorful characters down here, he thought to himself as he pushed the button going up. If only the whole world were like Andy. Harmless. The elevator took him up a few flights and he exited. He went through the double doors and then down a long hallway, then he hooked a right, and then he reached the 3rd door on the right. He was still counting the doors even though he’d used this office for a month now. He used a keypad to enter a code and then walked through.

“Good morning, Mr. Sloane.” Anne, his loyal, middle-aged secretary, said to him from behind her desk. She had brown hair and a stern face. Her body was strong and thick, and her bountiful chest, though it was wrinkly, still attracted glances. “Morning, Anne.” He began to walk past, but then Anne stopped him. “Mr. Sloane, the Chief is here. In your office.” She said, whispering. He nodded, and then took a breath before going in. “Nigel! How are you this morning?” There was a man spinning the globe on his desk that he recognized to be his boss, Mr. Charles Pike, the Chief of MI6. “I’m doing well, Charlie. And yourself?” Nigel Sloane was on good terms with Pike. They had gone to university together and remained in the same social circles. But ever since Pike became his boss, and more recently, had entrusted Nigel with a secret task, Pike had been acting quite nervously, as if he was shouldering the burden of their secret project. “Listen, Nigel. It’s about the program.” Pike began. Here it comes. The whole things off, Nigel thought. “Yes? What about it?”

“I want you to go ahead with it. In fact, I want to bring some potential targets to your attention.” Pike said bluntly. “Really?” Nigel could hardly believe what he was hearing and almost grinned, but stopped himself. “Yes. I think this has potential and I’ve decided to shelve what fears I have about this—substantial fears, I might add—and push this thing forward. Pike pointed to a manila folder that was lying on Nigel’s desk. “There are 3 names in here of targets I’ve gathered from meetings with other agents. They don’t know I’ve forwarded you these names.” Pike said. “But Charlie, they don’t know about me at all, right?” Nigel pressed. “No, Nigel, of course not. This is me, you, and your secretary, Anne. Nobody knows about this, nor will they. The story—as you know—is that you have been tasked with writing manuals to our field operatives.” Pike explained, and Nigel sighed. “Anyway, I’ve determined these are targets for your program. The type of person that, uh, is susceptible to the uh...” Pike sputtered. “Susceptible to the charms of a woman.” Nigel finished his thought. “Yes, very well put.” Pike looked down.

Nigel knew his old friend was uncomfortable with the nature of the program and knew he would be ever since Nigel pitched the idea to him. “Unfortunately, Charlie, not everyone in geopolitics is as much of a choirboy as you. If we don’t play dirty, then we’ll fall far behind other countries that are willing to do so.” Nigel had said that to Charlie at a Christmas party a few years ago, when Charlie became Chief of the MI6. Ever since, they had slowly conspired to begin a program so secret that even MI6 didn’t know about it. “Our mission—should we choose to except it...” Nigel paused for a laugh from Charlie, who was tipsy on egg nog, “is to get intelligence from foreign dignitaries, heads of state, maybe even our allies, okay?” Nigel had said. “And we’re going to do this how, again? Just so that I know you’re serious.” Charlie jokingly made him explain his idea. At that point, he thought Nigel was not serious. “We’re going to do it by getting some sexy women to seduce and fuck these people!” Nigel and Charlie laughed, some other partygoers looking at them because of how noisy they were. “And what will this be called?” Charlie had asked, wiping a tear of laughter from his eye. “It will be called Project Sexpionage.” Nigel said, and Charlie whooped with laughter, nearly spilling his drink. When he was done laughing, he said “There’s no way you thought of that on the spot.” And indeed, he hadn’t. He had been thinking of it for a while, and now, years later, it was finally going to happen. After talking for another minute, Charlie left the office and Nigel sat at his desk. He opened the manila folder. Let’s get to work, he thought to himself.