School days, a Richard Hammond story

Happy international women's day

Hammond had only begun working at mi5 europe desk for a few weeks, but he was comfortable in the lifestyle.

He especially liked the secretaries dotted around the place. The were necessary furniture around the office, just like the lamps and photocopiers.

He had become strangely enticed by one of them, though. The human woman with those... undulations. Just like in the bond films.

Hammond sat with his legs spread (but not very far as they were only little legs), not getting on with work. He preferred watching women pass him by. Sexy coworkers was always a plus.

A not so sexy boss caught him. The great gorilla, jeremy stood before him, hands on hips , shirt buttons straining over his stomach. It was obvious he had a desk job. For a whilst

"Agent Hammond," the ugly ape addressed him. Hammond pretended to look a little more professional, but he couldn't exactly hide the stiff thing in his trousers.

"Yes sir?"

"We've got intel on," Agent Clarkson cleared his throat, "Captain Slow."

Hammond muttered a sort of reply that would of been a bit clearer if it weren't for the fact he was gazing dreamily at the woman at the printer behind his boss.

"Are you listening, Agent Hammond?"

Hammond left his daydream, but not before winking and the blonde beauty. "Uh, yes sir!"

"We have intel on Captain Slow." Clarkson dropped a thick mass of paper on Hammond's desk. It was thicker than his mistress' thighs. "The bastard's planning an attack on London," he tutted.

Hammond gulped as he read a line of the tiny print on the front page. The Bible, both Testaments put together, was a kid's bedtime story compared to this gargantuan book.

"Bloody bloody baboon. Absolute fu-" hammond was no longer listening. He went pale at the absolute s t a c k of paper. What was he to do?

Jeremy had finally wondered off, taking his senile muttering about al-Qaeda and the falklands elsewhere.

Hammond, however, had no intention of reading the file.

He picked it up and sidled up to another desk. Behind it sat the only woman he didn't think he could charm the skirt off of. Grunhilda Garabant. Her great shoulder pads threw shade across the entire office. She had probably not updated her wardrobe since the mod 80s, even her slick back bun and wire glasses stayed the same.

But right now, hammond was desperate. He would flirt with a wooden plank to get out of the baboons goliath reading task.

"H-ellooo gurnhilda... hilda... grunny-hunny." He winced despite himself."

He leaned against her desk, hand on hip.

"Soooooooo Grunhilda. Hildykins. What's up gurrrllllll," he purred.