Vote For Me!

Kendra moves with purpose up the front steps of Maya’s house, rehearsing her final pitch inside her head. Maya peeks through the curtains, swears under her breath, then cracks the door just wide enough to flash half a face. Kendra forces the gap wide with her shoulder and sails inside, tray of neatly collated flyers already fanned like cards in a dealer’s hand. Maya backs up, sneakers squeaking on the linoleum, caught off guard. Kendra launches straight into the bullet-points: new gym roof, junior study lounge, spirit week with a twenty-four-hour charity stream. She ticks them off in crisp, practiced breaths. Maya crosses her arms tighter every time. “Fine,” Maya interrupts. “What about the GSA?” Kendra blinks. She swallows. Recovers. “Obviously the GSA,” she says, voice bright enough to hurt teeth. “Visibility, funding, speakers—”“We don’t need stickers and speeches,” Maya cuts in. “We need people who’ll actually show up.” She studies Kendra the way you study a vending machine that might give double candy. “So show up. Prove it.” Kendra’s spine goes rigid, but her feet stay planted. Maya steps forward, tilts her head, and kisses her. No warning. No question. Heat slices through Kendra’s lungs, the taste of peach lip balm and nerves buzzing along her tongue. Every speech stalls behind her teeth. Maya’s hand curls at the small of Kendra’s back, tugging her farther into the kitchen until hips knock against the island. Fabric whispers over skin: T-shirts dragged upward, skinny jeans thumbed open, the metal button hitting the floor with a clean metallic ping. Maya lifts Kendra onto cool marble, and the girl’s campaign binder slips off the countertop with a soft, anticlimactic thud. Kendra’s thighs tremble as Maya parts them, tongue flicking out to trace already damp cotton. Maya peels the fabric aside and licks flat across swollen lips, slow at first, then firmer, pressing deeper. Kendra gasps and locks one heel against Maya’s shoulder blade, fingers scrabbling for purchase against granite edges. The surface feels cold on her ass while Maya’s mouth burns hotter, every slick curl drawing fresh pulses of wetness. Breasts flush pink beneath Kendra’s open bra, nipples tightening as Maya sucks the tender bundle of nerves above into her mouth, coaxing, circling, until Kendra’s hips grind helpless against Maya’s steady rhythm. Her pulse hammers in her ears, campaign slogans forgotten. Every stolen vote angle narrows to this open-mouth invitation to stay. She cants forward, trembling, muscles pulled taut with the first sharp bloom of orgasm threading down her spine. Maya doesn’t ease up; she adds two slick fingers inside, curling just enough, and Kendra breaks around them, voice cracked and wordless. The house is quiet again except for breathing. Maya stands, wiping her mouth with the back of her wrist, eyes narrowed like she’s still judging return on investment. Kendra slides down from the counter onto unsteady legs, grabbing the discarded binder with one hand while the other reaches, almost shyly, for Maya’s waistband. She doesn’t have to ask what it takes to lock in the vote anymore.