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Author's Note: This is something that I've had swimming around my head for a few months now, and it got to the point that I just had to get it out. Initially, I had an idea for a big series, but I knew taking on politics could be a very delicate subject, even if this work is a bit silly. That's why with this story, I'm going to walk a middle ground so it doesn't alienate anyone. After all, I just want to make a story that everyone can enjoy. At the present time, this is just one chapter and that's it. If it's something you want to continue, please comment and let me know.

*****

"Mr. President, the briefing is due to start soon."

President Tom Radford looked up from his desk in the oval office and nodded to his Chief of Staff, Chris Bridges. "Just one moment, Chris. Let me finish this report."

Tom quickly scanned the rest of the report in front of him, which detailed rising tensions in the country of Malaysia, before putting it back down. It seemed like someone had been murdering government officials out in the jungle, and there were ties to one of the opposing political parties. Unfortunately, Malaysian politics would have to wait as there was something of far greater importance on the horizon.

The President took a moment to pull out a drawer in his desk, finding it filled with folders on a variety of different subjects. He picked one that was labeled "Top Secret" and pulled it from the drawer. Tom scanned the inside contents for several moments before getting up from his desk and exiting his office with file in hand. Immediately flanked by two secret service agents, Norm and Paul, Tom made his way into the basement of the West Wing to the Situation Room, where this next meeting had been scheduled to meet.

The Situation Room was the meeting place for the most pressing and critical matters of state and this situation was no different. Upon reaching the room, Tom found just about all the other seats already occupied, each of them waiting for his arrival. They all stood as one, only taking their seats once again after he'd sat down first.

"Thank you all for coming," said his National Security Advisor, Ryan Douglas. "Especially you, Mr. President."

"Ryan, please tell us what this all is about," said Tom. "Your initial message didn't have much information."

"Very well, Mr. President," said Ryan before standing up and handing out a briefing folder to all the attendees. He then grabbed a clicker to start his presentation on the screen in front of them.

"As you may or may not know, at nine o'clock this morning we received a call from one of our top weapons manufacturers, Rail Space Arms. They've been working on a contract for us to design a network of satellites that would make it possible for us to stop any incoming nuclear threat, drone attack, or missile launch from an unfriendly country."

Ryan then displayed a screen that showed the design of the weapon, SpaceNet, as a series of interconnected satellites that worked together to use lasers with energy from the sun to incinerate incoming objects in a matter of seconds.

"Their research was coming along well, and they were nearing the final completion of a blueprint for their first design. That is, until this morning."

"What happened then?" asked Jim Barnes, the Secretary of Defense.

"A secure vault containing the blueprints was found opened at approximately seven-thirty this morning. The security guard in charge of watching the vault was found a short distance away, completely unconscious. After an hour long search of the vault to determine the integrity of the contents, the blueprint for SpaceNet was the only thing missing."

"Do we have any leads? Who could have done this?" asked Tom.

"I've put out some diplomatic cables to our allies but so far we've turned up nothing. As well, internet chatter is nonexistent on this type of weapon so unfortunately, we don't have anything solid," said Ryan. "What we do know is this: the Chinese and the Russians both had their own programs for developing a similar weapon and may have been aware of ours. It's possible that this was a form of technological sabotage. It would make the most sense. In diplomatic terms, losing this blueprint is a disaster, sir. In the wrong hands, this could compromise our national security completely. It could also put us in grave danger if they choose to act aggressively."

"What do you mean by aggressively?" asked Tom. "I thought this was a defensive weapon? Knock missiles from the sky and whatnot?"

Ryan nodded. "It's sole purpose is defense but can you imagine if you could send a laser of the sun's energy anywhere on earth? Can you imagine the power behind that? In the wrong hands, they could vaporize any city at will. It could be the equivalent of a nuclear holocaust if it was used against our major cities."

"I see what you mean," said Tom, shivering at the prospect of some of the world leaders he knew with such technology. "You mentioned that you believe this may be technological sabotage. almanbahis But for that to be the case, they would have to know it existed for them to set up a mission to steal the plans. Are we sure they couldn't have been after anything else?"

Ryan shrugged. "It was the only thing missing from the vault so we have to assume the worst. There were other plans in the vault but they didn't show any signs of being tampered with. Every blueprint lays in its own drawer with a sensor that goes off if it's not opened in the proper manner. They were definitely after the SpaceNet blueprints."

"Who else knew about SpaceNet besides the people in this room?" asked Tom, taking a second to circle his finger around each person. "Who could have leaked it to our enemies?"

Ryan coughed awkwardly. "Besides all of us, there were a few members of Congress that knew and approved funding as well as the higher executives at Rail Space Arms. A few of the engineers there had the proper clearance for the design but that's about it."

"We'll have to start background checks into those involved, especially if we have a mole. How dangerous are these blueprints in the wrong hands? I'm assuming there's a certain level of technical expertise involved that would make these useful only to a small handful of individuals?"

"You are correct, Mr. President," said Ryan. "Since this technology is extremely advanced, only a few countries would be able to take advantage of the blueprints. We know the European Union commission into this weapon was disbanded two years ago, so that just leaves three countries, but personally I believe it to be the Russians, sir."

"That's very specific, Ryan," said Tom. "Why do you suspect them over the Chinese?"

"The security guard who was found to be knocked out was given a thorough physical examination. Two things were noted of his appearance."

"And what were those?"

"Sir, when he was found, his belt was undone and his trousers had been loosened recently. Our examination was thorough enough that we found trace amounts of feminine secretions on his manhood, sir. There were also slight traces of blood as well."

Ryan clicked open a new slide that showed the security guard as he'd been found. He'd been laid out completely, and even from this angle, Tom could tell that the man had seen a little action before being knocked out.

"So this security guard had sex on the job recently is what you're saying?" asked Tom. "How is that useful to us?"

Ryan started to turn red in the face. "Sir, as you know, we keep a blood bank of foreign agents who have at one time been captured by our government. A way of keeping track of nefarious troublemakers should they happen to strike again. While the feminine secretions weren't of much use to us, we did have the blood ran through the laboratory."

"And you got a match?"

Ryan brought up a new screen with the lab results. "We got a match. The blood belongs to a Russian secret agent, Olga Chernoff, also known as the Spider."

The next slide brought up a picture of a very attractive-looking woman, even if it was technically a mugshot. The Russian spy had long, straight, blonde hair and bright gray-green eyes. She had a small, upturned nose and above her upper lip was a small beauty mark. Tom could tell she was having a similar effect on the rest of the men in the room as their eyes remained glued to the screen.

"I've heard that name before?the Spider?but it was a case from many years ago. Is it the same person?" asked Tom.

"We don't believe so, Mr. President, as it is very possible that it's a designation for the Russians' top spy program. There was a Spider that got up to a lot of trouble in the DC area back in the eighties before finally being neutralized. Until the last few years, we believed that program had died with the Soviet Union, however it seems to have been revitalized."

"So what do we know about Miss Chernoff? More importantly, is she still in the country?" asked Tom.

Ryan nodded. "We believe so. In fact, she'll most likely have to lay low for a while before attempting to contact her countrymen. Having possession of those blueprints makes her a very wanted person, so she'll stay in the shadows until she feels it's safe enough to transmit the information back to Russia."

"Is this their standard method of operation?" asked Tom. "Do they always use seduction to get what they want?"

"Not always, Mr. President, but it is a favorite tool of theirs. The Spider that we chased back in the eighties had a renowned talent for . . . ah . . . for . . ."

"Out with it, Ryan," said Tom. "We're all adults here."

Ryan grimaced before answering. "For cocksucking, Mr. President. Several of the compromised agents reported receiving the best blow jobs of their lives from the Spider."

"And it seems like our security guard friend found out just how good they can be," said Tom. "Is he awake now? Can we question him?"

"He's going to be knocked out for several almanbahis giriş more hours, Mr. President. He was given a very powerful nerve agent, and he's lucky to still be alive," said Ryan.

"I want him questioned as soon as he's awake," said Tom. "We need to find out everything he remembers about Miss Chernoff." Tom took a moment to look up at the beautiful spy's face. "So we have a gorgeous, Russian spy on the loose with stolen blueprints whose main skill involves utilizing her own natural talents. A woman after my own heart."

Tom heard several of the men in the room start to chuckle with that particular joke. After all, it was a widely-known fact that the President himself was packing his own naturally-given talents, information that had come to mass public attention when he ran for the Presidency last year.

Tom Radford had led a fairly normal life before becoming the nation's chief executive. Well, as normal as could be for a man sporting an extremely large penis. He was very popular in college, mostly his reputation once it had gotten around the sororities of what was hiding under his jeans. From there, he moved into sales, a career that he was mostly unsuited for. That is, until he started to use his large package to help him seal important deals.

It worked for a time until he finally had to admit that his biggest deals were sealed with female clients and not because of his sales ability. Once he quit, he was lucky enough to start his own radio show that grew steadily from only a small handful of followers to becoming a nationwide success with listeners measuring in the millions. That had greatly helped his name recognition and of course, one of the topics that frequently came up was the size of his unit. In his youth, he wasn't shy about broadcasting that knowledge even if time had eventually tempered his immaturity.

But Tom had always wanted to do something good for his country, and that's why he decided on a political route. He set his sights here, going first for the Presidency and never really expecting to win in a serious contest. A few things happened though that made a once unlikely prospect a very real possibility.

For one, he had the name recognition and he was popular with the younger crowd, a fact that made it easy for them to turn out in droves to support his candidacy. The other facts were that most Americans were fed up with only having the same two choices on the ballet box and we're aching for something new. Not to mention, the two chosen candidates from the main parties were ridden with scandals, making a third party candidate palatable for the first time in decades.

It was for that reason that Tom Radford woke up one November morning to find himself with enough electoral votes to become the next President of the United States. At first, he was shocked. Not only had his little gamble paid off but all of a sudden, he was one of the most powerful men in the world. His next emotion was fear. The fate of the entire country now rested on his shoulders for the next four years. It was a daunting proposition, especially for one as young as forty year old Tom, now the youngest elected president in the history of the country.

For a man with his reputation, the DC area had largely expected to run rampant under his watch, not respecting him in the slightest. For that reason, he had to work just as hard to prove that not only was he capable of being president, but he also could be a good one with his own unique talents.

Tom took a moment to look back up to the screen. This Olga Chernoff reminded him of another woman from his past, someone who had a natural talent of her own. Someone who he hadn't talked to in years. Scribbling a note to himself about a phone call he needed to make after hours, it was one conversation that he actually looked forward to.

"That should just about wrap this up," said Ryan, bringing Tom back to the present. "We have our spies on the lookout for the Spider, and we'll have another briefing when new information comes to light. We must recover these blueprints, and it's our first priority until they are safely back in our hands."

"Well done on your presentation, Ryan," said Tom before standing from the table. "Keep me well-informed on this situation. I don't want a deadly woman like Miss Chernoff on the loose for too long."

As the various agents and secretaries began to leave, Tom picked up his security detail and started to go back to the oval office. His chief of staff caught up with him on the way.

"Sir, the Japanese trade delegation is here. They'll be in your office in five minutes."

"Send them in when ready," said Tom before taking his seat. He took a deep breath, knowing that this was just part of the job. Yet his mind raced with thoughts of Olga Chernoff and his friend from long ago. He looked forward to revisiting it tonight. Yet, as Special Ambassador Yamato walked into the room, he switched back into presidential mode.

--------

Late that evening, Tom finally almanbahis yeni giriş had a moment to himself. It wasn't often that the president wasn't being grabbed in ten different directions at once, but usually at night, he had a lot more personal time. That is, as long as something wasn't going on somewhere in the world.

This particular evening was a quiet one. The Japanese trade delegation meeting went on longer than expected but at least they ended up with something to show for it, in direct contrast to the recent Chinese trade negotiations that largely went nowhere.

Yet, despite the noise of the day, the peace of the evening allowed him to be pensive. His mind kept rotating back to the earlier briefing about the Russian spy. Even now when he closed his eyes, he could still picture her gray-green eyes and the neutral expression on her face. Seeing her had reminded him of somewhere else, someone from his past whom he hadn't spoken to in many years.

Before being thrust into the public limelight, he could have just texted someone easily to have a conversation. That wasn't so easy when you were the president. Instead, he had his own personal line set up that ran through the White House for security purposes. While he didn't necessarily like that every personal conversation he had with family and friends was recorded, it beat the alternative of not being able to communicate with them at all. You would think being one of the most powerful men in the world would afford him more privileges than the average person, yet in some aspects, he felt more a slave to his position than anything else.

For that reason, he took the phone off the hook and dialed the number from the list of contacts pulled from his cell phone before it was deactivated. The line started to ring out immediately and a surprised female voice picked up on the other end.

"Hello?"

"Lucy, is that you?"

There was silence for a moment or two before she responded. "Who is this?"

"It's Tom. Tom Radford."

More silence. "Tom, is that really you?"

He started to chuckle. Lucy Benning had been his girlfriend for many years back in his twenties. She was one of the only people to have successfully maintained a decent friendship after a breakup, talking at least once a year for the past two decades. They had largely found they were better friends than lovers, and Lucy always offered a fresh and unique perspective on the problems facing him.

Sadly to say, he'd been a poor friend since his candidacy for the president. In the whirlwind of the campaign, a lot of his friendships had been put aside for lack of time. Yet, seeing that Russian spy's face today had reminded him of Lucy's features?her blonde hair and gray-green eyes.

"It's really me, Lucy. Can you believe it?"

Lucy started to laugh on the other end. "Well, it's not every day that I get to talk to the President of the United States."

"Yeah, about that," started Tom. "My life has certainly changed a lot in the last couple years."

"I'll say. How are you even making this call? My caller ID just says White House."

"It's a line they set up for me. Can't use my cell phone after all. Too much a chance of being compromised."

Lucy laughed. "That this is the same Tom Radford that used to walk around my apartment in his boxers with a beer in each hand just blows my mind."

He laughed with her. "It's so good to hear your voice again. I missed you, Lucy."

"I missed you too. I was hoping you hadn't forgotten about me with all your success."

"Never. Time has gotten away from me. It seems this job is busier than I expected."

"That sounds like the understatement of the century," said Lucy with a giggle. "So what made you dial my number?"

"Honestly? I had a briefing today with a woman with your features. It reminded me of you."

"So what was that about?" she asked.

"I'm afraid I can't say more than that," he said with a laugh. "National security and all."

Lucy giggled. "Oh, right, silly of me to forget that!"

"Anyway, it reminded me of you and it's been so long since we last spoke. I just had to call you."

"Well, I'm glad you did. I've missed you, Tom. It's not the same without having you to talk to like old times."

"I know what you mean. How's Sean and the boys?"

"Growing like weeds," said Lucy. "The boys, not Sean," she added with a laugh. "Preston is in high school this year, can you believe it?"

"I remember when he was all excited to get his braces off. Has that much time really passed?"

"Mm-hmm," said Lucy. "So what did you really call me about? You've only called me in the last few years when you're feeling low."

Tom took a deep breath. "I wouldn't say low. Maybe I just needed your advice."

"My advice? Don't you have a whole team to give you advice?"

Tom started to chuckle. "Yeah, on national security. This is a little more personal. That's why I wanted to come to one of my oldest friends."

"Okay, Tom, shoot. What's on your mind?"

What wasn't on his mind? That would have been a shorter question. Too many topics and too many decisions that needed made. Ultimately, that was the source of the problem. A problem of confidence.