Politico Incorrect

Darlene sipped her coffee, omitting the usual sniffs and ahhhs she indulged when drinking her morning cuppa without anybody else around. Her mind was totally absorbed with the embedded video she had just clicked on from the daily news roundup online.

It was an antiquated broadcast of the show "Politico, Corrected" with host Roy Mahler from the turn of the millennium, and Maryland's perkily giftless GOP hopeful Christine Dunwright's younger self was in it, much to her campaign's chagrin.

Darlene dragged the volume tab up after the damn thing failed to respond to a simple press on the arrow key. The talking heads were at it. Christ, poor Mahler used to be kinda cute.

Mahler: So what you're saying is, our kids today, they have sex, they have drugs--

Phillips: F[bleep]kin' A!

"Damn, Bijou," Darlene muttered, "you looked good in them pleather pants." Did they still make those in lime green?

Mahler: And you have Fred Durst. That's the unholy trinity right there. [audience laughter] And what you're saying is--

Dunwright: Roy, these are all serious issues, and our legal system should be doing something about them--

Mahler: Well, with Durst you may not have to worry--

Dunwright: But the deeper problem behind them all is the Devil, Roy. The Devil is--

Wurtzel: [suddenly awakening] What? Where!

Dunwright: The Devil wants our kids to worship him, Roy. Worship is, when these kids dabble in witchcraft and--

Mahler: Please. You know, I see these goth kids at the mall, and what they're worshipping isn't Satan, it's their daddy's pocketbook, because they own it and they're throwing it away on pink plastic gummy bracelets which are-- let me tell you, I picked up a hooker the other day in the Valley [audience applause] and I had to go to the emergency room because one of those things ended up pressed into service as a cock ring--

Phillips: F[bleep]in' A!

Dunwright: Roy, it is real, okay, because I know, I too was a, I dabbled in--

Mahler: Not my cockring you didn't. [audience member: I did!] Behave! [polite laughter]

Dunwright: I was a witch too. I did teen witchcraft.

Darlene howled with laughter. "Witchcraft!" she cried. "Oh, too precious. Hey Jo!" she yelled at the ceiling, but she knew already from the hiss of the pipes it was no good. "Fuck it," she said, stopping the video and running upstairs.

She opened the bathroom door-- Jo always preferred to keep in the steam-- and yanked the curtain aside, taking in her live-in partner's soapy, curvy form. Jo typically kept the showerhead depressed, a sort of aggrandized trickle raining down in which she could lather and rinse herself with luxurious abandon. She was contentedly brushing her dragon-entwined backside with the brush. A rope of soapy bubbles crawled slowly around her hips, snaking its way to her denuded pudenda. "Hey, you," she said, not taken aback at the intrusion. "What's up?"

"Your secret lezzy girlfriend from high school, that's what," said Darlene triumphantly. "Did you two make witchcraft together as well as just plain fuck?"

****

"That crazy conservative cunt, she doesn't know herself one lick," said Jo when they finished watching the video together and Darlene had read aloud, amidst gloating guffaws, the rest of the accompanying article.

"So, true?"

"Oh, there was a certain component of gothiness to our affair, sure. Totally a fashion statement, as far as I was concerned. Or at any rate, just something to do. I thought she knew it was supposed to be frivolous!"

"Yeah, right," said Darlene. "She might have been frivolous about you licking her grand old coochie, that's something she might try and shrug off after the fact. But from the way she was talking on 'Politico, Corrected', you'd think she was a teenage Ruth Gordon or something. Which is hard to believe, considering what a Barbie she is today."

"She's not--well, she is cute, in her horrible way. But I mean, we drew some pentagrams in the barn dust and chanted a few 'spells', so-called. We went out in the woods a few times. All a good excuse to be finger-fucking that uptight pussy of hers-- not so uptight back then, actually."

"Right. God, you guys finger-fucked in the woods? What about poison ivy and stuff?"

"What about 'Poison Ivy'? More like 'The Blair Witch Project'! God, she took a long time getting talked down off of that!"

"What? No, I meant--"

"Oh-- well. We weren't being careful I guess. Or careful enough. I mean, I kept some towelettes on me. Anyway, I was already pretty much out, the school lezzy, and it was senior year, and she starts coming on to me, trying to act all up for anything. But not around the boys. So yeah, she really was my little partner in crime. Until she started going to prayer meetings at the community college and suddenly it was all way over."

Darlene nodded sympathetically. "I can't believe she went on TV and outed herself as a witch though. Guess she'll have a hard time living that one down now!"

Jo blew a stray tendril off her forehead. "I can't think why this would be an issue for any normal human being. It must be an issue for her because she takes this shit so seriously. I guess she needs to believe in some kind of magic, and since witchcraft isn't real-- I mean, to anybody-- she wound up with religion. She gets to believe in everything, even believe that she really was some kind of witch once." Jo laughed wearily. "Boy, if she thought she was on the wrong side of the Lord for drawing pentagrams on her wrist with eyeliner, she must really be hung up on how she used to give me rim jobs."

Darlene's head arched back in aching laughter. "Oh, God! It's too much. This little lezzy ass-licker's gonna be our Senator--"

"It's not like she can win."

"But you won't out her!"

"I've told you, it's just-- I can't help what she is. And what's the point? I could never prove anything if I wanted to."

"But--" Darlene protested.

"There's no reason to believe she's ever done anything since. And really, knowing how crazy she is, who knows why she ever fooled around with me at all?"

"Because she's a big fat lying hypocritical closet dyke, that's why," Darlene insisted. "One whose every position stands against gays and lesbians, against the whole human freaking race actually, if you ask me. Someone who will wreck people's lives, deny them their rights, all just so she can make believe to herself she's the Lord's good witch now."

"Maybe. Or maybe it was just a crazy teenage phase of hers. Or trying to get attention. Or-- hell, maybe the devil made her do it."

"Oh Christ, please--"

"In her mind, maybe that's all it is. She's a neurotic, she's pitiful. And she's got enough baggage to sink her already. She's down nineteen points!"

Darlene nodded her head. "That's not an excuse. She's a danger to the community."

Jo sighed thoughtfully. "Well, I can't help that. I don't believe in telling people what constitutes a youthful indiscretion and what doesn't. I mean, it's not like I didn't waffle around a few times before I met you--"

Darlene smiled ruefully. "That was just the fag in you though. You're such a know-it-all you had to have a guy, as a guy. Plus you're such a damn ass-fiend."

Jo smiled. "I won't deny my little demons, not even to the face of Roy Mahler."

"He used to be halfway cute," Darlene noted ironically. Jo smiled. "I see that!" Jo pretended to hang her head guiltily at Dar's protest. "So-- how was it?"

Jo pretended she didn't know what Darlene could be talking about. "How--was--what?"

"You know. Young Senator-in-the-making Dunwright when she's sticking her tongue out for some hot teenage babydyke ass, that's what?"

****

It was hot. The thought of it, and the retelling, got them both humid. So much so that, later in the evening, Darlene had to step into the harness, crack open a fresh bottle of Sassy Sliquid's booty formula, and fuck Jo's slippery little asshole with the strap-on.

"Ohhhh, fuck!" Jo moaned passively.

"Mmm, you think she still does it? Licking lezzy holes," Darlene prompted dreamily, pumping away at Jo's deeply impaled bottom, so slick and accepting around the shaft of her silicone dildo. "That's what I think, you betcha! Mmm yeah, I bet she hasn't stopped. You just wait, you hear?" She slowed down, holding just the tip of her cock inside, her thumbs pressing around the cleft of Jo's bottom. "Yeah," she groaned thoughtfully, reaching around to fret the tense little clit, making Jo's sphincter clench and squirm around the solid tip of the cock holding her open. "Alaska, California, Maryland . . . We'll all be sending up dykes from the Gay Old Party. Muff-munching for brunch in the Senate café. You betcha?" she asked softly, delicately pinching the sides of Jo's clit.

"Oh God," she groaned in response.

"That's right. After they've hushed up the dykes in the army that is, and after they've condemned the dyke teens to get knocked up and barefoot, with some shotgun hubby and his limp little cock to keep them company. That right, hmm?"

"Ohhhh," Jo moaned, her asshole flexing on the wide head of the toy still embedded inside, as if trying to expel it or suck it deeper within.

"You mind me talking politics?" Dar asked in a sarcastic, drawling whisper. "You too distracted to be thinking about your rights?" She pulled herself out till just the very tip was kissing the dilated, lubed pucker of her asshole. She rotated the cock like a lip gloss, Jo's slick anus shining brown and pink. Biting her lip, Darlene slowly slid the thing back in, so deep, till her crotch was pressed flat against Jo's deliciously warm, humid ass. She rolled her hips against Jo, feeling the base of the dildo exert itself against her own clit, a fuzzy demand for release. She sighed deeply and burbled, "You say you've got a Constitution?"

"Ohhh, fuck . . . Fuck."

"That's it. You got a right to fuck baby. You got a right to be fucked. Fucked here where your Senator kissed your ass once. That right ain't goin' nowhere baby, not while I'm around . . . ."

"Oooo . . . ."

"Fuck yeah. You like this baby? You know what I'm gonna like? I might have to get-- me some o' that-- social conservative ass like-- them teen witches do. You think that shit gets old?"

"Aaaugh! . . ."

"I might have to--vote her in-- just so I can know-- I've got me a lezzy Senator af--ter all-- Once a lezzy,-- always a lezzy. My baby's lezzy. Shit, might-- have to bring her in-- You want that, baby? --We can share some o' that. Fuck--I want in. You're gonna have to-- let me know what I been-- what I missed before I was around. Mmm . . . Gonna spread the wealth, damn straight."

"Fuuuck . . ."

"We're constituents--got our needs. Serve the people. That's right baby. I want to get us some--public servant ass. Mouth. Grand old coochie. Turn that right-wing shit right-side out." She rubbed hard on Jo's aching, popped-out clitty. "You come for me, baby. Then you get to work. Till my Senator gets in."

****

Jo did her turn of public service, as it pleased Darlene to think of it. She had to suck off Dar's prick-- with some trepidation at first, then with amusement, and finally with an emphatic, though not entirely consummated, effort at serious deep throating-- before she served as Dar's rimmer-in-chief while working a pair and, finally, a trio of enthusiastic digits into Dar's soaking all-American cunt before shooting her lover off into an orgasmic fireworks that had her counting, behind the flushed screen of her tight-clenched eyelids, as many as fifty-seven stars.

They cuddled afterwards, Jo spooning Darlene possessively, as tended to be the case after an exhaustive bout of passion, once the harness was off and the fucking done.

"Hey, you know," Jo said presently, "that Carly chick's not gay. She had cancer, that's why her hair's all--"

"Oh, that's what they all say. How convenient an excuse," Darlene mumbled.

"You're horrible! Facetious bitch, you."

"Hey, demon sheep? C'mon, that girl's been reading Cecilia Tan or some shit. That stuff has to come from somewhere queer." They laughed together. "Does it turn you on, thinking about her?" Darlene asked.

"I--it's a turn-on the way you talk about her, yeah. But not like, she herself, no."

Dar raised her chin in her hand, propping up on her elbow. "Come on, a public figure who you used to sex around with when you were eighteen? God, who wouldn't?"

"You mean a three-time also-ran candidate for public office who can't hold a regular job? Who read for the law on her own?"

"Just shows she has enterprise!" Darlene opined ironically. "Anyway, this is her lucky campaign, I can feel it! Hell, I think I may have to volunteer. Be a part of a winning team for once--"

"Dar!--"

"Yes, my love?" she asked, grinning.

Jo had her hand around Dar's belly and raised herself up, searching into Darlene's darkly mirthful eyes.

"You wouldn't think of--"

"Of what?"

"Interfering--"

"It's not like I can blackmail her or something. There's no evidence of anything, you said."

"That's right," Jo nodded. "And if there were, I just don't think . . . I have principles here, and you know, for the time we were together, she was-- well, she was fun, and she never really tried to hurt me. She got a lot of distance between us in a hurry when she changed into being Miss Square, but-- it was a small town, and she probably could have run her mouth and been believed, without bringing anything upon herself. Not that it would have been anything new about me," she added. "But then, my weirdness was probably more theoretical in people's minds than anything."

"You were the town witch," Dar pointed out.

Jo laughed. "I was the school goth. Actually I think she was much more into that than I was! But I mean, people can call you lezzy and mean it and hate you, but they still think somehow that-- it's not real. They don't think about the fact, they don't want to imagine that somehow, someone could actually be doing it with you, sharing things--"

"Sounds to me more like you were taking what you wanted!"

Jo cooed. "Oh baby, yeah, I took some things . . . ."

"Shit," said Darlene, searching her face excitedly. She was delighted to find Jo owning up to some unforgotten heat. "I think I'm gonna have to get a glove."

"Oh, Dar--"

"I want to know everything. I need to be an informed voter here--"

"But we're-- you're not thinking you're gonna inform the public, are you?"

Darlene frowned purposefully. "Certainly not. Let the public decide on the issues, I say. I just want to know about the real Christine Dunwright, that's all. Just between you and me."

Jo bowed her head, blushing as her eyes sparkled with mischief. "We had three wonderful months together, inseparable really. Eighteen and experimental, gothalicious and dyketastic. Or I was, and she-- well, bicuriously crazy at any rate."

"Oh, let's not sell her short. She's lived a life of chastity ever since."

"Hmm, I guess that's the story anyway--"

"You see," Dar said pointedly. "I bet she thinks about you every day. You should give her a call."

Jo groaned, playfully but with an edge of worry. "I'm telling you, I do not want to get involved in this whole political--"

"It's not politics!" Dar insisted. "Just-- I think we should catch up. Old friends, new friends. Think about it. Aren't you the least bit curious?"

Jo tilted her head enquiringly. "Curious, curious? About what?" But Dar just tapped her playfully on the forehead.

"Numbskull," she declared, settling back down to receive Jo's spoonage. "But I think we should contact her. Maybe discuss our endorsement."

"Our endorsement? What are we, Jimmy Carter? Not that his opinion really matters."

Dar sighed pacifically. "You're a librarian, I'm with the city. We're core pillars of the community. Anybody'd be grateful for our good word."

"Well, write an op-ed then. Just, on the issues, you know?"

Dar gave her a raspberry. "Issues, indeed! Fuck the issues, what I'm interested in is character." She sighed dreamily as Jo rubbed on her tummy. She wondered how much Dunwright allowed herself to remember. How much-- or how little-- did she really regret of her past indiscretions? And what could be done, in the tumultuous campaign season, to take her on a stroll down memory lane . . . .