Short Stories

Spy For Hire (1)

                                                                Inspired by the movie Red Sparrow.

           My five inch red stilettos clicked on the concrete as I walked down the dimly lit corridor. My brief case swinging in hand while I keep my lose papers tucked tightly to my chest. The guards assess me as I stand before the big metal door, clad with bold iron screws lining the perimeter of it.

            It  swings open automatically for me and he's the first thing I see. A man with a brown scruffy beard and shaggy hair to match sits there. His head slumped forward, he's tired. Blood drips down the sides of his face and are caked upon his hands which he obviously cut in attempt to be free. 

            His head raises and he eyes me, his eyebrows scrunch together and creases appear on his forehead. His skin is unnaturally tan as though he either spent way too much time in the sun or whoever he works with thought the darker the less recognisable. His eyes widen after a few moments. I make sure to stand right under the single light that there is in the room that only contains four concrete walls, a metal desk and chair and one prisoner.

             " Who the fuck are you?" He asks almost alarmed. I smile, it doesn't mean much but to him it probably means a lot. The officer who was previously in charge hands me his file silently. Our eyes lock and we both nod, he walks out the room and the door closes. My attention is on him and then the file, I read it over before closing it and pressing it down into the desk.

             " Well Mr. Warren it seems like you have quite the record here. It says that you served six years in Iraq and worked  in Homeland Security for three."  I walk behind him and stay silent for a few seconds until he fidgets. Leaning down I whisper into his ear in my best American accent, " So tell me Christopher how does a patriot like you end up on such a bad side with your allies?" 

              His eyes go wide again, I see his legs shift and I almost smile. He's mildly uncomfortable but there's something in his eyes, hope. " You're American." He says almost breathlessly, as if he can't believe it. I want to laugh. 

               I move to sit on the metal table and slowly I unbutton my blouse, he gulps. On my third button I start speaking in an Australian accent, " Oh Mr. Warren." He eyes me worriedly trying to keep his eyes from falling from my eyes. My hands undo the fourth button and I put on a German accent, " Why would you assume." My hands finger the fifth and I pause as I see his eyes slip. 

               Taking it off slowly my Scottish accent makes an appearance, " I'm American?" He's horrified now. "Where'd they find a bitch like you?" He says almost choking on his own spit. I climb on top of  him. I grab his head so he looks me right in my eyes, my voice becoming a seductive whisper. "Listen Christopher, I'd like to make this painless but I need you to tell me what you were doing following the Prime Minister around. Why did you hack his laptop? What were you trying to find." He looks down to my breast before finding my eyes. "Tight lipped huh?  That's alright." I say grabbing the zipper to his pants. " You'll tell me." I whisper into his lips.

                It's been two hours and I get up off my new friend, Christopher Warren. I watch him as I button my blouse up, he's sweating like a pig but horrified. He's mortified of me. " Who are you?" His voice less than a ragged whisper.

                I simply smile at him and grab my brief case and papers. Walking towards the door I stop at the last moment and turn around so he could see the devilish glint in my eyes, " I'm the bitch they call when they want something to sound nice." I say  before walking out the door and back down the hallway.