Your place; And she falls for you.

“Let's go to your place for dinner.” Sam chooses the more private option.

Offering your elbow with a jovial bow, she takes your arm and lets you escort her across the street to your house. As you walk up the driveway you crack a quick joke, “So this is what it means to 'cross the political isle.'”

“Yeah, right.” Sam scoffs at your joke with a friendly tone of disgust and goes to punch you in the upper arm. Either her aim is way off or your college Aikido training kicks in, because she misses your arm completely and stumbles forward. As her left high heel breaks, and her ankle rolls, Sam crashes ungracefully down onto your lawn.

Grabbing her left ankle she winces in pain.

“Are you okay?” You quickly lean down with concern and horror.

“Damn it!” Sam looks herself over. “Help me to your bathroom.”

Carrying Sam into your downstairs bathroom you gently place her on the closed toilet cover. Immediately she takes off her right high heel, but grimaces when touching the left. “I think I need some help.”

Dropping to your knee you gently take her left foot and as gingerly as possible remove her left shoe.

“It doesn't look broken, just a bad strain.”

“Great.” Sam snarls in agony.

“Maybe I should take you to the emergency?” You offer.

“It's not the ankle I am concerned about.” Sam stands on one leg and hops over to the sink to look in the mirror.

“Is something else broken?” You ask completely puzzled.

“I've sprained that ankle several ties before. It's the dress I'm worried about,” Sam looks herself over in the mirror, “it's silk, and French, and costs a small fortune.” Seeing a large grass stain on her left hip the redhead pounds the sink in frustration. “Fuck!” She swears and tries to unzip the back of her dress with her right hand as she steadies herself with the left.

“Can you help me?!” She asks bluntly, “time is of the essence.”

“Um, sure.” You move towards her, still a bit befuddled by feminine priorities.

After you unzip the dress Sam lets it fall to the ground and then quickly places it on the side of the sink. As she fills the sink with cold water she rattles off directions. “I need the most mild liquid soap you have, some white vinegar and a sponge.”

Your attention, however, is on the racy lingerie the alluring Republican has decided to wear for the evening. Black pantyhose with a minimalistic garter belt and a low cut black bra and matching thong with white lace highlights.

“You can gawk all you want once you get me the soap, vinegar and sponge!” Sam glares in frustration. “Men.” She mutters as she looks over her stained dress.

Returning with the items you also bring one of your Oxford shirts, an ace bandage and an ice pack. Placing them on next to the sink you say, “If you need anything else, just give a yell.”

“Thank you.” Sam responds in a still frustrated but **** voice, as you leave the bathroom and close the door behind you.

After a while you knock on the door, “You okay in there?”

Telling you that is alright to enter you find Sam sitting on the closed toilet with her left ankle wrapped, iced and resting on top of your hamper for elevation. Noticing that her garters and pantyhose lay on the bathroom floor you cannot help but think how sexy she looks in your shirt, especially her outstretched curvy leg.

“Hows the ankle and the dress?” You inquire.

“Both will live I think.” Looking up at you she adds with a gentle voice and a melancholy expression, “Thank you again John. You are very sweet and I am sorry if I was a bit bitchy. You know how women get about their clothes. I am also sorry that my klutziness ruined the date.”

“Well I am very sorry that you got hurt.” You answer, “but it hasn't been a total lost; I think I set a new world record for the quickest time for getting one's date out of her dress.”

“Well, there is that.” Sam, appreciating your humor, gives a little smile for the first time since she entered your home. She stands with a wince of pain.

“I can help you home, if you are sure you don't want to go the emergency room.”

“Actually, I am hungry.” Sam leans forward placing her hand our your shoulder to steady herself. “If you have a couch you can park me on I would be up for that stir-fry. How about a causal supper and a movie?”

“Sounds like a great idea.”

Helping Sam to the couch in your living room you prepare supper for the two of you. Fortunately, your kitchen is of an open design, so you can still chat with your date as you cook. Putting the food in divided plates you sit down on the couch with Sam and proceed to have a wonderful evening. You chat long into the night, never once talking about politics. Finding you have much in common, especially a love for old movies, you turn on Netflix and select an old Errol Flynn and Olivia de Havilland film. After making popcorn Sam snuggles up next to you to enjoy the movie, the popcorn and the company.

With the popcorn long finished and Errol giving Olivia the closing kiss you both give a playful cheer at the end of the movie. Looking at each other your laughter turns into a silent visual embrace of longing. There is only one thing you can do, you lean forward and kiss Samantha.

Closing her eyes Sam fully accepts the embrace of your lips. She gives a faint gasp when your lips part. “We really shouldn't do this.” Sam comments more to herself as she undoes your tie. Taking both ends she pulls you forward, “this is a big mistake” and passionately kisses you again.

“Our campaigns should come before our personal desires.” You say unbuttoning and opening her shirt, then firmly cupping her bra covered breasts with your hands.

Sam moans at your touch, “we are obligated to our supporters to never surrender to the opposition,” she adds helping you strip off her shirt and then nimbly sliding on top of you, her legs straddling your hips as she slowly grinds herself against you. “Our party handlers have made it clear, no contact with our opponents unless our campaign manager or a party lawyer is present.” Taking both sides of your head Sam bends down and hungerly kisses you, her tongue exploring your mouth.

Unclasping her bra, you strip your opponent topless. “Exposing yourself to the opposition is a foolish mistake.” You say while kissing down her chest, ending with your tongue teasing her erect nipples.

“Yes!” Samantha loudly groans at the feel of your warm breath and lips pressing against her tits.

Cradling her torso in your arms you move her to the rug in front of the couch, her legs still wrapped around you. With a deep panting voice Sam can barely say, “One should always be the aggressor, seeking to be on top of any situation.” Now fully on her back she spreads her legs wide and places her hands to the side of her head, letting you firmly grab her wrists, pinning her to the floor as your mouth ravishes her bare breasts.

As you lift your head up, you both are breathing deeply. Staring at each other with longing and utter lust, you both say together as if with one voice, “We really shouldn't do this.”