Kamala Harris is the district attorney of San Francisco. Valentina Días is a high end escort who knows all about politicians. Discretion in this arrangement is vital, and so is following the terms of their arrangement. Please note that this story is entirely fictional, and though it is based on real public figures, the events and characters are entirely fantasy, dramatized and for pure creative purposes only. AS MUCH AS I WISH KAMALA HARRIS HAD HERSELF A HOT GIRLFRIEND IN REAL LIFE, I'm just having a little giggle over here.

A collection of one-shots that ive thought of for Kamala. angst, smut, hurt/comfort, any requests. This is a fictional narrative set in an entirely imagined universe. While it may reference public figures, every characterization, conversation, and event is crafted for storytelling and does not reflect real life in any way. All scenarios are invented for storytelling purposes.

Book 3! Y'all can thank Princess (@Istillwrite) for this. She's been nagging me, making sure y'all get ALL the chapters. Cause I've been ready to fire the last of these chapters off in Book 2. Now don't get too excited! This is more organizational than me coming back to write. Everything is already written she just has to publish when I give the go ahead.

Kamala clears her throat and picks up the paper. Her fingers, long and elegant, hold the statement with the same confidence she wields legislation. "Senator Kamala Harris confirms her relationship with model and political consultant Giselle Woods-Kennedy. The couple met during Ms. Woods-Kennedy's internship in Washington, but their romantic relationship began well after the professional association ended. Both are committed to transparency and maintaining the highest ethical standards. They ask for privacy as they navigate this new chapter of their lives together." I close my eyes, letting the words sink in. When I open them, Kamala is watching me, a rare vulnerability in her gaze. "When do you want to release it?"

"Of course, Senator Harris. I'm ready for anything you put on me." Kamala's eyebrow arches, and I realize too late how that might sound. My cheeks burn, and I fight the urge to fan myself. "Good," she says, her tone rich with amusement and something darker. "Because I plan on working you very hard when we get back to the office." The car slows to a stop, and I realize we've arrived at my apartment building. As I gather my things, my hands trembling slightly, Kamala's final words follow me out of the car: "Rest up this weekend. You're going to need it."