Silent Sparks | Kamala Harris x Melania Trump

Kissing In The Bathroom

The next day, it was a private political event at the White House—a gathering of top officials, away from the public eye. Melania knew Kamala would be there, and she found herself spending an unusual amount of time getting ready. She sifted through her wardrobe, finally settling on a sleek, black dress that hugged her figure perfectly. It was elegant but alluring, just enough to make a statement.

She spent nearly an hour on her makeup, making sure every detail was flawless. Her hair was styled in soft waves, cascading down her back. As she looked at herself in the mirror, she felt a nervous flutter in her stomach. She hadn't felt this kind of excitement in years. She knew it wasn't just the event—it was the possibility of seeing Kamala.

The White House was filled with a mix of low murmurs and the clinking of glasses. It was a private political gathering, a chance for top officials to mingle without the usual press presence. The atmosphere was charged—everyone knew the election was heating up, and tension buzzed beneath the surface of every handshake and forced smile.

Melania entered the room on Donald's arm, her expression calm, a picture of practiced poise. But underneath, she felt a spark of excitement she hadn't felt in years. Her thoughts drifted to Kamala as she scanned the room, wondering if she'd see her.

It didn't take long. Kamala was standing near the far end of the room, laughing at something one of the senators said. She was dressed in a sharp navy suit, looking confident and effortlessly stunning. Their eyes met across the room, and the noise around them seemed to fade away.

Melania's lips curled into a small, knowing smile. Kamala's gaze softened, and she tilted her head slightly, acknowledging her without a word. It was as if they were the only two people there, sharing a secret no one else could see.

As the night wore on, Melania found herself drifting through conversations she barely paid attention to. She exchanged pleasantries with a few familiar faces, but her mind was elsewhere, fixed on the woman who had kissed her just last night.

When the speeches began, Melania's gaze kept wandering to Kamala, who was seated across the room. Kamala glanced back at her occasionally, their eyes meeting in brief, electric moments that sent shivers down Melania's spine. It felt like a game—one neither of them wanted to end.

As the applause died down, Melania leaned in to Donald and murmured, "I need to freshen up." He barely nodded, too engrossed in a conversation with a fellow politician. It was the perfect moment to slip away.

Melania made her way to the bathroom, her heart pounding in her chest. She knew what she was doing, but she couldn't bring herself to stop. She pushed open the door and stepped inside, her hands trembling slightly as she leaned against the sink, taking a deep breath.

The door creaked open again, and Kamala stepped inside, her expression unreadable. She locked the door behind her, turning to face Melania.

They stood there for a moment, just looking at each other. The tension was palpable, the air thick with anticipation. Kamala stepped closer, her hand reaching out to gently trace along Melania's jawline.

"You look stunning tonight," Kamala said softly, her voice low, almost a whisper.

Melania's cheeks flushed pink, her breath hitching. She didn't say anything, but her eyes fluttered closed for a moment as she leaned into the touch, craving more.

Kamala's thumb brushed over her bottom lip, and then she leaned in, her lips capturing Melania's in a kiss that was slow and sweet, yet filled with unspoken desire. Melania melted into it, her hands clutching at Kamala's blazer, pulling her closer. It felt like everything she hadn't known she was missing.

The kiss deepened, and Melania felt herself sinking into the sensation, losing track of time. When they finally pulled apart, they were both breathless, their foreheads resting together.

Kamala smirked, her fingers still tangled in Melania's hair. "We should get back before anyone notices we're missing," she whispered.

Melania nodded, but she couldn't hide the small smile tugging at her lips. "I know," she said quietly, her voice softer than she intended.

Kamala pressed one last kiss to her forehead before stepping back, straightening her jacket as if nothing had happened. "This isn't over, beautiful," she said with a wink, before unlocking the door and slipping out.

Melania stood there for a moment longer, trying to catch her breath. She touched her lips, still tingling from the kiss, and let out a shaky sigh. Whatever this was, she didn't want it to end.

With a final glance in the mirror, she composed herself and stepped back into the crowd. She found Donald chatting animatedly with a senator, oblivious to her absence. Melania slid back into place by his side, her expression serene, but inside, she felt like she was burning up.

The event continued with more mingling, but for Melania, everything had changed. She couldn't focus on the conversations around her. All she could think about was Kamala—her touch, her kiss, the way she made her feel alive in a way she hadn't felt in years.

As they prepared to leave, Kamala caught her eye one last time across the room, giving her a small, secret smile. Melania's heart raced, and she knew she couldn't hide the blush on her cheeks. This wasn't just a fleeting moment—it was a feeling she couldn't ignore, no matter how risky it was.