Trip to the Spy Store: Semi-Pervy Espionage Spot With African Roots

Categories: Spaced City

Photo by Angelica Leicht
The spy store, all about sex and secrets.

The spy store doesn't look like much. It's a tiny litttle storefront, much longer than it is wide, wedged into a bend on Westheimer Road. We'd seen it a million times over the years without ever really registering that it was there. The sign in the window always indicated the store was open, the store itself always looked dark and closed, and we'd never once caught anyone walking in or out of the place.

We were intrigued in an absent-minded way, and decided to go see what the place was all about. Turns out it's all about sex and secrets.

The door swung open and one of the store's private investigators looked up from one of the desks parked in the corner of the space as far from the buzzing fluorescent lights as one could get. He wasn't wearing a trench coat and a fedora like Bogie in The Maltese Falcon. He wasn't even wearing a striped suit. A woman with long black hair was sitting in a metal chair pulled alongside the desk. She might have been pretty, but it was hard to tell because she'd been crying. She went silent when we walked in and didn't say an audible word from then on.

We introduced ourselves and got the okay to peruse the store. We darted to the back of the place and started looking over tracking devices and cameras shaped like pens. If you learn nothing else from a whiskey-soaked detective novel, the one thing you're sure to soak up is to not stick your nose where it doesn't belong, unless you're the main character.

We were so careful not to stare, we almost smacked into a blank-faced dummy propped up at the back of the store. In today's world of social media and oversharing, it's easy to think there are no secrets left. It's too hard to hide where you are, who you're with, what you're doing. But the spy store is proof that's a foolish thought. There were fake soda bottles and hollow books, there were microphones and cameras that could be hidden in anything, watches with tracking devices and instruction books on how to find out if your significant other is cheating. The spy store has it all, and it's proof that, despite the NSA, privacy isn't dead. After all, if it were, you wouldn't need so many ways to invade it.

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Herrera Monica
Herrera Monica

Every time I pass by this place, I always remember the record store it use to be back in day .


Yes, I went there when it was a record store too. Why couldn't it be both?

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