Tell her who you are.

“Well, I think changing my vote is going to be more difficult then you realize.” You painfully answer Samantha's flirtatious question, knowing what you have to say, “I need to tell you, I am John Hampton, your Democratic opponent.”

“What?” A surprised look comes across the Republican's face, followed by a hint of disappointment. “I really don't know what to say.”

“Fate does strange things.” You reply and then the two of you look at each other in silence. Her eyes don't seem angry, threatened or even contemptuous, but a bit sad, as if she has lost a new friend, which surprises you, considering her reputation as a cut throat libertarian.

“It doesn't mean we still can't be neighbors.” You break the silence trying to keep the conversation friendly. “How about this, we make a deal, no politics if we see each other around the house? Heck, I will even take down my sign.”

“Fair enough.” Sam's smile returns, “Well neighbor, I should get going on my run.”

“Yeah, I need to finish up some lawn work, it's going to be a hot one today.” You answer. “Sometimes I really miss not having an air conditioner.”

“Too cheap, or just a tree-hunger?” Sam takes a political jab, but with a playful tone.

“Already breaking our agreement Republican?” You smile, enjoying the banter.

“Your right. I can't help myself.” She grins, “Let me make it up to you. I make a mean grilled flat bread pizza. Care to come over for lunch?

In the back of your mind you quickly ponder the situation. Samantha seems genuinely friendly, decent and, you think, there might be a connection between you. She is a Republican and your opponent, however, and this might be some sort of trap, or at least an attempt to use her feminine wilds to gain intelligence on your campaign.

“I have a pool.” She sweetens the offer when you don't immediately answer. “Come over with your swimsuit and you can cool off.”

That closes the deal. “Sounds like a plan.” You agree, not willing to give up the chance to see the shapely conservative in a bathing suit. “See you at noon?”

“Sure.” Sam answers as she starts to head down the road as she notices your campaign sign again. “Noon it is, Hometown.” She nicknames you with a smirk, stretching her arms preparing for her run.

You watch the backside of the shapely redhead as you pull up your campaign sign, as per your promise. At the stop sign of your corner lot Sam stretches out her hamstring muscle. Keeping her front leg straight she bends over at the waist. Her firm rear end thrusts nicely up as her breasts gently sway down, brushing against her knees.

“Hell.” You laugh to yourself. “I might even vote for her.”