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Gretel is just one person connecting with another person during one moment in time.

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"You will run again in two years, and you will win."

"I'm not even thinking that far ahead yet, Gretel."

"Yes, you are, Monty."

"Yes, I am," he conceded, aware that he couldn't fool his old friend.

"Then how do we start? Let's get you elected as the newest Representative from the great state of California."

"Can we finish dinner first, then relaunch my primary campaign?"

At the table in the trendy burger bistro, Gretel crossed her fork over her knife or her empty plate. "Finished."

Monty shoved the last of his sweet potato fries into his boyish face. "Then let's keep the conversation going. I want to hear your ideas."

"Number one: dessert to go?"

"My place or yours?"

"We're continuing this Saturday night chill hang?"

"With a tiramisu nightcap."

"I'm ordering chocolate layer cake, you're paying, and we can chill at your apartment in the heart of gentrification, Monty."

"Gretel, I live a mile away from you, yet I'm the colonizer?"

"One of us has been called Pocahontas. To my face. While the other one looks like a young Chris Columbus."

"Which affected my performance in the polls, so change my image, got it."

...

At Monty's converted loft condo with an impossibly high ceiling, Gretel removed her suede ankle boots at the door and reclined on the sleek couch. In his blue button down and dress pants, Monty swiftly plated their desserts and joined her.

"This is yummy." Gretel dug into her cake. Her onyx hair brushed the shoulders of her gold turtleneck sweater dress.

Monty eyed her, his tiramisu untouched. "I agree."

They nibbled their delicacies, each sneaking peeks at the other and giggling, inching closer together on the cushions. Monty offered her a bite of his coffee flavored concoction. Gretel accepted, getting a bit of cream on her cheek in the process. As Monty tilted forward, napkin in hand, Gretel ogled his chocolate-dusted lips.

"Do you want to kiss me?" she asked.

"I have been considering it. Do you want to kiss me?"

"It wouldn't be weird?"

Monty pressed the side of his thigh against beylikdüzü escort hers. "Because we've known each other since elementary school?"

"Over thirty years, so that is one reason." Gretel clasped her friend's carved upper arms to urge him closer.

The tip of Monty's tongue slowly found hers.

They breathed each other in, tasting the lingering sugar and sprinkles, as they experimented with where to put their hands, attempting to find a comfortable position on the firm cushions.

Gretel relished the tender snogging, but she recalled a fact that made her detach, breathless. "One moment, please, Monty. I thought you were the first out candidate to run in our district."

"Out, yes. But lately, I have discovered I am more of a B than a G."

She reached for her phone to check the veracity of his statement. "That's not what your campaign website says."

"The truth does not fit neatly into a box. It was simpler for my staff to put me in a recognizable lane. Not that the lane was full of traffic. This dry spell makes me wonder if I took vow of celibacy that I forgot about."

"Nor do I see any mention of your presence on the other spectrum."

"I was advised that my neurodiversity would be too much for voters to process."

"Even for the ones who share your way of existing in the world? Like me? We are not represented on Capitol Hill the way we deserve."

"I did the best I could with the information I had at the time. I wanted to win."

"And look how that turned out. Monty, you need a new campaign manager."

"Are you volunteering?"

"Nope. There's this political consultant named Jed. Spent decades in D.C., but recently moved to Oakland. Don't ask how I've heard of him. He has a record of running unknown faces-"

"In strategic races. I'm familiar."

"Did he run your-"

"He should have. Jed called me after I conceded, offering condolences and the same advice you have accosted me with tonight."

"Great minds."

"Only difference is, I hired him. But I want to make out with you, Gretel."

"Like we're back in high school?"

"We never hooked up back then."

"Should we have?"

Monty pressed his nose against beyoğlu escort hers. "We should now."

Gretel slid her hand across the buckle of Monty's belt. "I also have some policy suggestions."

"I suggest you take off my pants while I take off your... is this a sweater, or a dress?"

"Yes, it is."

While Gretel unfastened his belt, Monty tried to remove Gretel's cable knit garment. He pulled the turtleneck over her head, then got his own head tangled in the sleeves.

"Why are we so awkward?" Monty laughed.

"Because we've never done this before." Gretel took off her own dark tights. "With each other."

"Logical."

Once they had stripped down to their skivvies and discussed their histories and latest tests, Gretel lounged on her back while Monty tentatively caressed the front of her panties.

"Can you show me what you like?" he murmured.

She covered his hand with hers. "Want to taste me?"

Monty peeled Gretel's silky briefs down her legs. He spread her thighs, parted her thick bush, and licked her light brown pussy lips. "How does that feel?"

Gretel shuddered. "More, please."

"I have heard that the clitoris is the most sensitive-"

"Yes, suck it!"

Monty complied. "Would you like a finger-"

Gretel was writhing on the couch. "Two fingers! And one in my bum."

As Gretel whimpered, Monty was putting in work with his multiple appendages, cajoling his friend to a rolling climax.

"Yes, Monty." She lifted her leg and hooked her heel over the back of the couch. "Keep going, Monty." She bucked her hips against his sticky face. "Yesss!"

Gretel's body quaked, her breasts quivering inside her satin bra cups.

Monty kept his lips planted firmly in place until his friend's convulsions subsided into satisfied exhales. He gazed up at her, proud of his work.

"Stay there." Monty walked a few feet away.

Gretel heard him use the bathroom and wash his hands.

When Monty returned with a Turkish cotton towel, he found Gretel rummaging through her purse.

"What are you looking for?"

Gretel retrieved a small box. "Flavored condoms. My favorite is orange."

"You just have those at the bizimkent escort ready?"

"Sometimes guys want blowjobs, but they usually don't have condoms, and I don't want to swallow. Always be prepared. Never rely on the guy."

"Why are you blowing unprepared guys?" Monty frowned, as did his lower member.

Gretel moved the coffee table so she could kneel in front of him. "Are you prepared?"

"I probably have some unflavored, expired condoms under the bathroom sink."

"See, I'm right."

"Partially. I did not ask for, nor do I expect, fellatio from you, Gretel."

"Isn't knob slobbing at the top of the list of demands for politicians?"

Monty grasped Gretel's hand. He drew her onto the couch next to him. "What do you expect, Gretel? What do you demand?"

With Monty's soft towel wrapped around her lower half, Gretel felt her face crumple. "I don't ask for anything. And then I don't get disappointed."

He placed his palm on her knee. "You deserve more."

She rested her head on his shoulder. "You're good at asking for what you want."

"You're good at showing who you are. I need you on my team," Monty breathed into her ear.

Gretel trembled from the sensations. "Do I have to knock on doors?"

"Or make some calls. You decide."

"I know what I want." She unwrapped the towel.

Monty fell to his knees and separated Gretel's. "I am a man of the people. Ask not what your pussy can do for me. Ask what I can do-"

"So silly."

"-for your pussy," Monty completed the amended quote with his head between Gretel's squirming thighs.

"Do it!"

...

Early the next morning, Gretel spotted a beam of sunshine peeking through the bedroom curtains. In a blue and gold Monty for Congress t-shirt, she rolled toward his friend on the mattress. "Are you still a B?"

He blinked his eyes open. "Certainly. Did you think your delicious labia flipped me back to guys only?"

"That's not how it works, Monty!"

He kissed her shoulder. "I'm teasing."

"I know. Are we still friends?"

"Definitely." He hugged her toward his bare chest. "Don't go falling in love with me."

"Ha!" Gretel let out a genuine guffaw. "Don't worry about it."

Monty tucked a strand of her dark hair behind her ear. "More importantly, do I have your vote?"

Gretel snaked her hand along the waistband of his boxers. Then she dipped deeper, fingers wrapping around his stiffening shaft. As he groaned at her deft manipulations, she replied to his inquiry. "Maybe."