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Rikki put aside a navy-blue fountain pen, having just signed another proclamation.

Hmm ...

What if he started calling them 'executive orders?'

That sounded way more important.

I mean ...

Technically, they were orders, and he was an executive.

The Malabar giant squirrel leaned back in his chair, folding his paws behind his head.

Mayor Rikki.

It didn't matter that Arcadia was a small farming community with barely a thousand citizens, making this position a glorified part-time job.

His real job was owning Village Pizza, the preeminent (and as of this summer, only) pizza place in town.

Oh, a few competitors had come and gone. Woody's Pizza, Main Street Pizza. But none had the tasty recipes or prime location Village had. The building was big enough for birthday parties, game day get-togethers. It even had a little alcove for arcade games! Also, they were the only eatery in town that delivered. Which, in the end, was their secret weapon.

But mayor was mayor!

It could lead to state rep, then to governor, senator or ... well, suffice it to say, there were rungs to climb. And squirrels were expert climbers.

Rikki was no ordinary squirrel, though.

In addition to being bigger than the average squirrel, the Malabar had wild-colored fur, patterned like a bold, fruity rainbow.

Dark cherry up and down his entire backside, starting at his ears and ending at his tail-base. A long, fluffy tail segued to black raspberry, then red. Throw in some orange. A lemony flourish. His paws bore a pumpkin hue. Belly? Nutmeg brown.

Suffice it to say, Rikki was a dish.

He made such a striking impression that he'd barely had to campaign during his mayoral run.

Well.

That, and he'd run virtually unopposed after the last mayor, eighty, died in office. He'd been a long-time institution, and no one had wanted to directly follow him. Technically, Rikki was only finishing his term, which had been halfway through. He hadn't been elected to a full four years.

Yet.

The giant squirrel had heard through the grapevine that Seldovia, an albino-purple skunk who ran the diner 'Queenie's' on Main Street? She had eyes on the seat next time around. He'd pressed her about it, and she'd given him some coy, smirky non-answer. Which meant she was _definitely_running.

Though Arcadia wasn't his hometown, he was quite familiar with local lore. Back in high school, Seldovia had been homecoming queen, prom queen. She even claimed, to this day, to have descended from royalty, hence her nickname and the title of her establishment.

And the purple. Color of royalty.

Bet she dyes her fur.

_No way those highlights are natural. _

If I could prove it ... ?

Rikki shook his head.

As far as scandals went, that would be tame.

But the squirrel couldn't go with something salacious like 'she sleeps with influential locals to get favors!' Which he knew she had ...

She'd wanted the parking spaces in front of her diner re-painted from yellow to bright purple, as well as hangers installed on the nearby lampposts for seasonal flags and flower baskets.

Rikki wasn't above dangling town-sanctioned perks (among other things) in exchange for ... a little 'civic cooperation.'

It's called leverage.

I thought she respected that ...

Should he feel betrayed?

Not like she promised me she'd stay out of my way. She was using me as much as I was using her.

No, he didn't blame her.

But the squirrel would be lying if he said there wasn't an element of jealousy.

Seldovia had it all. Business leader in the community. Name recognition. Pheromones.

He'd only been with her that one time, but it was enough to know that skunks had a way with scent. He swore he'd actually gotten high on her.

But her biggest advantage (aside from being one of the best lays in town): she'd been born and raised here. Well, maybe not born, since the nearest hospital was in Circleville. But raised. That would matter to the traditionalists, the old school folks. The kind that ate lunch at her place every day.

Psh.

Pizza is better than sandwiches.

Everyone knows it.

The squirrel hunched forward.

What if I lose ... what will everyone think of me?

Did the town respect him?

Maybe.

Yeah, but ...

Because they had to or because he inspired them to?

Rikki blew out a breath.

The Malabar still got weird looks, even having lived here for a decade.

I'm not that _different ... _

The squirrel's whiskers twitched.

Tail flicked.

They'll really respect me when I parlay this into something bigger, something more. When I get reelected to a full term.

And what if they don't?

What then?

He didn't have an answer to that.

It wasn't worth contemplating.

None of this was about money.

Rikki just wanted to be acknowledged ...

... and enjoy the perks of being in power.

What?

At least I'm honest.

Anyway, he wasn't going to become Governor of Indiana after losing a mayoral race in backwoods Arcadia. It would be used against him! The attack ads wrote themselves. No, he had to keep a spotless record. His future started now. _ _

Are you sure you aren't overreacting?

It's fifteen months 'til the next election.

Things were going well in town, weren't they?

Under his watch?

Rikki fiddled with his pen.

It's not enough ...

No, the giant squirrel couldn't leave anything to chance.

He'd have to start mounting a serious, systematic charm offensive to match the skunk's. She was too smart to underestimate.

She's going to let people 'punch her ticket?'

A smile spread across his brightly colored muzzle.

Well!

I can stuff 'ballot boxes' with the best of them.

BUZZ!

He blinked, looking at his phone.

A text ...

From the post office?

'Sorry we missed you! Your first-class package requires an in-person signature upon delivery. Please visit the post office to sign for its release.'

"What?" Rikki said, furrowing his brow. He'd been here all day! No one had attempted a delivery.

I did_have those earbuds in during lunch ..._

He sighed.

It was 4:15.

The post office closed at 4:30.

Guess I better lock up and head over there.

It would be an excuse to see Persis.

Persis.

What a sexy name.

The painted bat was the only person in town who could rival him for crazy-colored fur, and she wore it extremely well.

Like Rikki, Persis wasn't native to Arcadia or even Indiana. How she'd wound up here, he didn't know. There had to have been an interesting story there. But the two had rarely interacted. A few casual nods and hellos and all that. But nothing deeper. She was rather shy and avoided social occasions (which the extroverted squirrel lived for).

Time to bring an occasion to her.

Something she can't wriggle out of.

_Surely, I can offer her something she wants ... ? _

And secure her 'vote' in the process ...

"Mmm ... " _ _

The squirrel cleared his throat.

Don't imagine it.

Do it!

Rikki stood up, raring to go.

But, first, he filed his procla-- ... executive order.

The paper decreed that September 10th be known as 'Harvest Moon Day,' coinciding with Arcadia's annual Harvest Moon Festival. It was the town's biggest annual celebration, even bigger than the 4thof July parade (which was mostly tractors).

But since the week of the harvest moon changed every year, so did the festival date, which meant a new proclamation had to be drawn up before each one. Rikki supposed the wordage could be amended to indicate that 'Harvest Moon Day' be synchronous with whatever date the festival was being held on, in perpetuity ... thereby eliminating the need to do this every autumn.

He tilted his head.

Nah!

He'd present it at the town council meeting next week, where it would pass unanimously.

I get things done.

He flicked off the light and left the room.

That's the Malabar guarantee.

_ _

_ _

_ _

On the other end of Main Street, in the lobby of the old, brick-exterior postal office, Persis sifted through a container of padded envelopes, making sure they were in alphabetical order.

Alone.

In the quiet.

No music or anything.

Just the hum of electrical equipment.

It was a menial task (some would say 'boring'), but Persis didn't mind it. It gave her time to think. Plus, as someone with wings for arms and thumbs for hands (albeit big, bendy ones), she lacked dexterity. _ _

Once done, the vivid 'painted bat' placed the container on a shelf behind the customer window.

The 'pick up' shelf.

Persis turned her attention to some boxes. Just a few. Small, square. There was a heavier one. Rectangular. She put it on a scale to sate her curiosity. Fifteen pounds! That was about as heavy as she could lift ...

She wondered what it was?

Scrunching her orange-and-cream snout, the bat squinted at the sender's address.

NOSH Butters.

NOSH ...

What did that stand for?

Maybe I don't want to know.

Persis put the box on the shelf with everything else.

Whatever it was, it was addressed to the mayor, and he hadn't signed for it. Since a signature requirement had been attached to the shipping, he'd have to retrieve it himself.

Mayor Rikki.

The bat paused.

He was a handsome fellow, wasn't he?

More than handsome.

Unique. _ _

Like me.

Only, he handles the attention better ... I mean, there's gotta be a reason he's mayor and I'm working a window at the post office.

Not that she disliked her job.

It could certainly be stressful during high volume times. Holidays, especially. November and December were always hectic. For a small town without a large department store? Everyone ordered their gifts online. It was a struggle to keep up with deliveries.

You're preemptively worrying again.

What did I say about that?

It was currently late-summer, end of August.

Almost 'Harvest Moon' time. _ _

They were starting to get packages related to that. Decorations. Supplies.

There was a poster for the whole deal on the community bulletin board just inside the door.

Persis stole a glance at it.

'Festival of fall fun!' it declared in big, bold letters. 'Music, games, rides! Raffles and prizes! Caramel apples, pumpkin donuts! Saturday AND Sunday! September 10th and 11th, Main Street Arcadia.'

Being new to the area (in small towns, if you'd been there less than five years, you were still 'new'), Persis had never been to the festival. She always came up with an excuse to avoid it.

I should go this time.

See what all the buzz is about.

_Even if I'll get the 'someone's ready for Halloween!' jokes. _

Persis hated those.

The painted bat was a natural wallflower, but it was hard to blend in when you were jungle-colored in a place with (mostly) earthy-toned critters. Her species was vivid orange mixed with creamy white, alternating with bold strokes of inky black on her wing membranes. She'd heard her kind referred to as 'jack-o-bats.'

There were other bats in town. It's not like she was _that_different.

Except for being a dreamsicle with wings.

And?

Ice cream and sherbet? Combined?

That's delicious.

She cocked her scoop-eared head.

True.

But in addition to her crazy fur, she had to deal with a cultural inclination to view bats as 'vampiric.' Maybe not out for literal blood, but out for energy, time, or ... whatever people wanted to imagine. Sex, usually.

Succubuses?

Or succubi?

Yeah, cause I'm oozing power from having a lot of mystical sex lately ...

Persis rolled her eyes.

Some bats had a toothy, devil-may-care attitude, taking pleasure in needling those who viewed the winged mammals as 'weird.' They leaned into that weirdness.

Persis wasn't like that.

Self-conscious and shy, she just wanted to fit in.

Her eyes fell on the clock, and she snapped out of her head.

Don't lose track of time!

"I'm not," she muttered.

Opening the till, the painted bat began withdrawing the cash. It was five minutes 'til close.

Right now, she was the only employee in the building. The delivery driver had returned his truck and gone home. (This was a one-truck postal code.) The mail sorter had left, too.

Persis was in charge of the front window. Customer relations. Releasing packages, getting signatures. Weighing and charging for packages _to_be sent. Selling stamps and trinkets.

As she put the money in a safe and locked it, Persis heard the bell ding atop the front door.

Her blue eyes darted to the nearest clock.

4:29.

One minute 'til close.

Never fails.

"Hello?" said a male voice.

Persis returned to the checkout desk and blinked. It was impossible to mistake the figure. Tall, bold, a longer-than-long fluffy tail.

"Mayor!" she said, standing to full attention. Which was still shorter than the giant squirrel.

"Heh. Please," he said, holding up a black-clawed, orange paw. "Rikki will do."

"Rikki," she repeated.

"Persis," he countered, pointing to her enthusiastically. With both paws. "Right?"

The painted bat was taken aback. She wasn't wearing her nametag. How did he ... how did he know who she was? They'd only met a few times in passing.

"You know, I've always viewed the post office as the lifeblood of a small town," Rikki opined, as if in campaign mode. "In the heat of summer, the dark of winter ... you're there for us. Delivering our food, medicine, books, gadgets. Such a vital service! You're to be commended." _ _

"Oh! Gosh." The bat felt flushed beneath her fur. "Um ... thanks?"

The mayor nodded graciously. He looked around the lobby. "Could do with a new coat of paint in here." The squirrel stroked his chin. "Bet those windows are drafty in the cold, aren't they? Imagine it drive sup the heating bills. Maybe you need some new ones?"

"Not really in our budget," Persis said modestly.

"Well, what if it was?"

The bat looked into his golden eyes. "I mean, that would be ... that would be nice, I guess? But--"

"I could find the funding for you," Rikki promised, striking a pose, looking at his claws. "The council normally listens to reason, and it would be a most reasonable request." He returned his gaze to her. "Don't you think?"

"You'd do that for me ... I mean, us?"

"It's my duty," he replied with a bow.

Persis blushed beneath her fur, then got to thinking. He didn't come here just to offer a refurbishment of her workplace. Right? Or to flirt with her. He was flirting with her, wasn't he? Yes. Her dry spell wasn't long enough to make her miss that.

The bat's temperature steadily rose as she said, "I know what you want ... I mean, what you came here for. It's, uh ... " She jabbed a hooked thumb at the shelf, turning to fetch it.

The squirrel quirked an amused brow. "Well, I thought I knew what I wanted, myself, but ... do tell."

Something about the way he said that ...

He'd almost churred it.

Persis' pulse quickened.

The orange-y bat managed to move his package from the shelf to the checkout counter. She huffed. "It's heavy. For me, at least."

"Ah! Yes, I have been waiting for this."

"What's NOSH?" Persis asked, scanning the package's barcode with a laser scanner. "I guess I could look it up, but ... "

"Natural Origins to Satisfy Hunger."

"Yeah, but ... what is it? Health food? Peanut butter? It says, uh, 'butters' on the ... at the top, here." Technically, she shouldn't be asking people what was in their packages. It would get her a severe reprimand. Or worse. The privacy of the mail was supposed to be upheld.

But he didn't seem like he was going to fib on her.

"They make all sorts of nut butters. For me, pistachio!" Rikki exclaimed.

"That's a thing? Pistachio butter?" the painted bat said as she printed a receipt. Rikki didn't owe anything, but he still had to sign for its release.

"Just gotta know where to get it." The giant squirrel tapped the side of his muzzle, the universal sign for secrecy. Which didn't make sense to Persis, because she already knew where it came from. "It's naturally a little sweeter, with a smooth, mellow taste. I have it on toast every morning. Celery, too."

"Huh." Persis pushed a pen his way.

"Discovered it at the Indiana Mayors Conference in the spring. At a fancy hotel in Indy." Rikki signed the receipt while he humblebragged. A swooping, fanciful signature which he'd obviously practiced. Probably from signing so many official documents. "I go through a jar a week."

"Well ... I hope you enjoy it," Persis said shyly.

"I'm all about expanding my palate," Rikki replied, golden eyes twinkling.

"I admire that ... " Persis hadn't missed the innuendo. She just wasn't sure what to do about it.

"Yeah?"

"Takes nerve."

"Are you saying you're afraid of new experiences?" Rikki asked.

"It's just ... when you have wings?" She raised and lowered her orange-and-black wing-arms. "It's not leaping into the unknown that clams you up. It's leaving the ground."

"How poetic," he said.

"Heh ... I'm sure that was accidental."

"Give yourself some credit!"

Persis blushed. It felt good to be built up like that.

Rikki's smile intensified.

The giant squirrel was so enthusiastic! About pretty much everything. It was contagious.

"Is ... is there anything else?" Persis asked. "Want some ... " She looked around. " ... national parks forever stamps?"

"Are they stickers?"

"Yeah."

"Do they still make the ones you lick?"

"I don't think so ... "

"Shame." Rikki used a claw to cut through the tape that sealed his box of pistachio butter. "I'm gonna give you a jar."

"What? No, I can't ... that's probably against the rules or something?"

Not probably.

Definitely.

"I'm the mayor," he reminded with a wink, taking a jar out. He set it aside for her. "There isn't a rule I can't bend. Besides, who's gonna find out? I won't tell anyone."

"Um, I, uh ... well ... "

Pressed against the counter, Rikki leaned forward. He lowered his voice. "You disapprove?"

"I ... I didn't say that."

"Then why are you stuttering?"

"I'm n-not."

"Oh?"

"I'm stammering."

"And what's the difference?"

"I don't really know, to be honest. I'm just ... I ramble when I get nervous."

"Are you nervous because of me?" the giant squirrel asked. "I hope I haven't done anything untoward. After all, I'm only trying to help a fellow citizen."

"By bending rules?" she asked, voice soft, hinting at her submissiveness.

Rikki sensed it and gave a confident, dominant response, "Giving a pretty bat a tasty treat doesn't seem criminal to me."

She swallowed, almost melting on the spot. "When you put it that way ... "

"Just say 'yes,' and I'll make it happen," the squirrel cooed.

"What, exactly?"

"All of it," he promised, eyes roving up and down her figure. Done being coy, the mayor began to drive his message home. "Cause I'm dying to know, Persis: what color is that pussy of yours? Pink on the inside, obviously, but what's the outside look like? White? Orange? Black?"

"W-wha ... ?" Persis could barely respond, her knees wobbling. This had moved from flattering to 'oh, fuck' real quickly.

Rikki caressed her cheek with a paw and lifted her chin so that their gazes locked.

She exhaled, eyes dilating.

"Show me your true colors," he breathed, "and I'll show you mine."

They ended up in the breakroom.

On the sofa.

Persis didn't know when she'd gotten naked, exactly. She just knew that, suddenly, she was. And so was he.

Lights off, the late-afternoon sun reached through the single, square window, a ray falling upon them and making them glow, a kaleidoscope of merging colors.

"I suppose I should've asked if ... mmm ... if you have security cameras," Rikki said, shimmying on top of her, kissing whatever body part he could. Shoulder. Neck. Cheek.

"N-no. Ah ... one of the perks of being under-funded ... "

"Wouldn't have stopped me," he swore, reaching her lips.

They kissed!

Whether he was being truthful or not, Persis moaned with excitement, wrapping her wing-arms around the male's long, sturdy back, their muzzles locking, twisting. Suckling. Smacking apart. That initial kiss spawning countless more.

She chittered, eyes going wide!

"Easy," he huffed on her neck. "You can take it ... just relax ... "

He'd slyly used the kissing to distract the bat as he penetrated her, his thick, seven-inch cock burying in her wet, wanting pussy. Already to a hilt. His huge, nutmeg-brown balls snug to her body. The fur around her pussy was off-white, Rikki had discovered. More accurately, a faint cantaloupe color. The hue ran up her belly and breasts, to her neck, bordered by that vivid, citric orange.

"True colors," he whispered on her cheek, starting to thrust. "So beautiful."

"Uhh!" Persis replied with an inelegant grunt.

So much for being a poet.

But he was so big ... filling her so completely. She'd never felt anything like it! _ _

The squirrel's cherry hips were already moving at an eager rhythm, dark rump and licorice/lemon tail rising and falling as he humped the bat down into the cushions.

Persis chittered again, wrapping her legs and foot-paws around him, too.

"Aw, yeah ... that's ... ooh, t-that's the stuff ... " Rikki gasped as the bat's walls squeezed around his shaft, making him tingle. She was so hot. And slick and tight and, "Fuuuck ... " He started thrusting faster. Harder. Glistening with her juices each time he pulled back, which made his forward motions squelch rather lewdly.

The bat's scoop-like ears heard every word, every curse. Every sound, beat, and breath. She still couldn't believe this.

The mayor?

And her?

The pleasure was realer than real. She felt every incredible pulse. More chittering. But it was different this time. Her noises became increasingly loud and frantic. Oh, he was driving her to such incredible places! She was building toward a climactic echo-burst.

"More!" she begged.

"You're gonna cum ... aren't ya ... ah, hah ... mm, so close, you'd do anything to get there, to feel it ... wouldn't you?"

Rikki never stopped talking.

I suppose he is a politician.

"Wouldn't you, Persis?"

"Yes ... yes!"

The strong, sturdy squirrel considered this and responded by ... slowing his pace? From rapid-fire grinding to very lazy thrusts. Balls no longer swinging or smacking against her. And, then, in an instant, he just stopped entirely.

Rikki parked himself deep inside Persis' needy flower, slumping atop her.

What's ... what's he doing?

I'm so close!

"P-p ... please," she begged, grabbing his rump, trying to get him to move again. "Rikki ... "

"Mmm, I need something from you, cutie ... one more thing ... " He grabbed at her breasts, fondling them.

"W-what?" she managed as he teased one of her nipples.

"I'm giving you ... mmf, new windows. Renovating your whole lobby ... ah ... and I gave you a jar of pistachio butter. In exchange for your wet, hot ... mmm ... " He nipped at her neck, nibbling his way to her cheek, which he kissed before whispering, "A fair trade, yes?"

"Ah ... ahh, yes!"

"Ah, s'right," he moaned, voice slurring. Even though he wasn't thrusting, her walls were squeezing on him. She really was close. It was a credit to his self-control that he managed to hold himself back. "But I'm ... ah, suddenly wondering ... if the quality of our 'congress' is driving up the bargain."

"How do you mean?"

"Wouldn't you agree this is exceptional? Better than you imagined? And you have imagined it." He whispered into one of her big ears. "I saw the way you looked at me when I came in."

"I ... I guess I always admired you from afar," the bat confessed, "but ... "

"It's not your fault, Persis. It's perfectly natural. I'm a peak male specimen. But the ante has been upped." He spoke with calm, utter dominance.

This made Persis feel even more submissive, somehow. "I'll ... I'll do anything! Just ... just ... "

"Yes?"

"Tell me," she said. "Tell me what you want."

"Smart bat. You're catching on." He kissed the corner of her mouth. "Next election." The squirrel bumped his nose to hers. "Your vote? I need it."

Her vote?

She hesitated briefly, wondering if that broke a moral code, if not an outright law. Maybe she was going to vote for him anyway. Maybe not. But to guarantee her vote, to trade it for ... an orgasm? Who did that? What if this got out? This whole situation was dubious to begin with, but it was a huge scandal in the making, and surely there was a line she couldn't--

Rikki pulled his length back, back, almost out of her entirely. Leaving just his tip inside her. And it was threatening to plop out within seconds.

Persis' body quickly decided for her.

"O-okay, okay ... !"

"Swear, Persis," he murred. "Your vote is mine."

"I swear!"

"Good girl," the squirrel breathed, sliding back into her wet, hot pussy with a grateful sigh. "I'm glad we could reach a mutual ... ahh, compromise. That's how things get done in local government, you see. Handshake deals and ... sofa sessions."

Their bodies rocked.

"Oh ... oh, god," Persis cried, feral noises starting up again.

"Come on, batty ... let it out. Let it h-h ... ha ... all ... hhnngh ... " As Rikki goaded her, she started cumming. Clenching around him. He felt it.

Oh, he felt it.

And heard it.

The bat let forth a series of chirps and chitters that bounced off every square inch of the room and back to their ears. Her brain was designed to decipher them as images. To him, it was just noise, but the noise of a pleasured partner was akin to music.

Rikki's paws gripped her body as he slammed his dick into her, keeping it there.

This time for good.

The squirrel barked in that guttural squirrel way.

"Ahh ... ahhh ... ahhhhh!"

He cried out as he ejaculated, filling her with his seed. Copiously. The bat's sex greedily milking him for every drop.

Persis, clinging to him with her wings and limbs, couldn't still herself. She was trembling from the force of it all, dizzy and dazed, even after her climax waned.

Rikki nosed his partner, murmuring, "That was extremely satisfying."

"Uh-huh," Persis replied dumbly. _ _

What time was it?

How long had they been in here?

Who cares!

For the first time in a long time, she didn't feel different.

She felt valued.

Rikki stayed inside her, not planning on leaving until he was too limp to remain. He gave an 'I'm thinking' look before saying, "We may need to reopen these negotiations at some point ... hammer out details we may have missed."

After a confused moment, the bat caught on and replied, "Come to think of it ... this whole building needs new lighting?"

"That so?" he asked, voice perking.

"We're still using incandescent."

"Strains the eyes." Rikki clicked his tongue, feigning concern. "Inefficient use of electrical resources. Potential fire hazard!"

"Do we have room in the budget to afford an upgrade to fluorescents?" she asked coquettishly, unable to keep from giggling as their noses touched. "Or maybe even LED's? Maybe add some new electrical outlets?"

Rikki grinned. The public servant told his campaign's most recent, and ardent, supporter, "Let's set a date to hash it out."

That sounded like a first-class idea to Persis.