> Simple Melodies are for Fillies
>  by bahatumay
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> At Home
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	If there was a picture in the dictionary for the definition of "confidence", it would be a picture of DJ Pon-3, strutting down the street. Her voluminous blue hair flowed in the breeze, her little jacket stretched tight over her chest, and music blared in her ears. Her face bore a confident smirk, and nothing could slow her down. 

Not even the angry stallion headed for her. 

“You stole Octavia from me!” he roared, swinging angrily at Vinyl with a fist. 

Grabbing her headphone cord with both hands, Vinyl stretched it out and caught his fist. Rotating her wrists, she pulled the cord tight and twisted, forcing his arm behind his back, lifting it in an armbar, and pinning him in place. 

“As if!” she retorted. “She's not your property. Besides, she came to me. I didn't steal your marefriend.”

Shoving him away, she continued walking and walking and then she was on stage, listening to the cheering and screaming of a crowd that had to have been standing room only. 

Now, a good DJ knows the importance of momentum. If a slow song comes right after a fast song, the jarring change in rhythm tends to drive dancers off the floor and back to the bars, and that's the opposite of what a DJ wants. 

So it was somewhat of a surprise when Vinyl stopped the music with a harsh scratch. Everyone in the room looked over at her, some glaring angrily, but Vinyl pulled out the microphone and took control. 

“Hey, hey, take a chill pill, guys. I've got something important to say.” She extended a hand and pulled up a gray earth pony up on stage. She seemed overdressed for the occasion, wearing a black silk vest and a pink bow tie over a long sleeve shirt and black pants. 

“This is Octavia, and she's very special to me. Very, very special.” Her hand snaked around Octavia and slid into her back pocket, showing the audience just how 'special' she really was. 

“Octavia here has agreed to become my marefriend.” She pumped a fist into the air. “What do you think? Is she awesome or what?”

Cheers answered her. Octavia smiled, and apparently determined to show just how awesome she was, as she leaned over and kissed Vinyl on the lips. 

Vinyl was surprised, but quickly recovered and began kissing her back. Octavia's hands began tracing over Vinyl's body, brushing against everywhere she was sensitive. Vinyl whimpered in pleasure, which was only heightened when Octavia's tongue brushed against her lips. Nothing could ruin this moment. 

Not even the arrival of the same guy as earlier, even as this time he was spitting mad. 

“Octavia, get down here!” he screamed. 

Octavia took a step back, separating herself from Vinyl. Vinyl felt crushed... until she realized that Octavia was only backing up to have enough room to unbutton her vest. Three buttons later, her vest lay discarded on the floor and she started on her shirt, starting at the bottom and working her way up. Vinyl couldn't help but lick her lips as she watched Octavia prepare to bare her body, exposing herself for the sole purpose of Vinyl's pleas-

“Gah! Vinyl!”

Vinyl's eyes snapped open. She was no longer on stage, making out with the mare of her dreams on stage in front of her psychotic coltfriend, but instead was laying on her bed, wearing nothing more than her hair tie and the pencil she always kept behind her ear. She quickly became aware of just how exposed she was... and just how wet her right hand was. 

“H- hey, Lyra,” she said, quickly curling into a ball to try and preserve what little modesty she had left. “You're home early, aren't you?”

“Nah, you just lost track of time,” Lyra said, lighting her hand and magically flicking a towel from the floor towards Vinyl, who caught it gratefully. “Would it kill you to lock the door?”

“Would it kill you to knock?” Vinyl retorted as she covered herself. 

“It's my house too,” Lyra returned fire. “Besides, I thought you were done for the day after your hour long shower this morning.”

Vinyl blushed furiously and instinctively pulled the towel tighter around her body, as if to shield herself. “It was twenty minutes, and I didn't do it in the shower!”

“Suuure you didn't,” Lyra chuckled as she sat on her bed. “I mean, Octavia is pretty fine, so it wouldn't surprise me one bit.”

Vinyl wanted to deny that she had been fantasizing about Octavia, but it was pointless as Lyra already knew about her crush. This wasn't exactly the first time they'd ended up in this situation, after all. 

Lyra pulled her knees up under her chin in the classic girl-talk pose. “So, what's your excuse for not asking her out this time?”

“Same excuse as always,” Vinyl sighed. “She's taken already, and even if she wasn't I don't know if she's bi. Besides, I'm not sure how I'd even start that conversation.”

“Yeah,” Lyra agreed. “That's a bit awkward.” She put on her best Vinyl impression. “Hey, Octi. I'm a big fan of your work, listen to it all the time. I'm also a fan of your boobs, and I mast-” She stopped and ducked the pencil Vinyl threw at her. 

Vinyl huffed and folded her arms. “Not funny,” she grumbled. She paused, and then added quietly, “Besides, I like her hips, too.”

Lyra moved over to Vinyl's bed and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “You can do it, Vinyl. You can ask her out. There's no knowing...” Lyra prompted. 

Vinyl glared and defiantly kept her mouth shut and her lips firmly pressed together. 

Lyra leaned in and nudged Vinyl's head with the side of her head. “There's no knowing...” she repeated. 

“If you don't try,” Vinyl answered reluctantly. 

“And just because there's a goalie...” Lyra continued. 

“Doesn't mean I can't score. I know, I know; you've said that before.” Vinyl glared. “You've been really pushy recently.”

Lyra looked somewhat abashed. “Yeah, well... I care about you, and I want you to be happy. And Bon Bon has been so good to me...”

“You've had one kiss,” Vinyl pointed out flatly. “And it took you months to get that far.”

“But it was a good kiss,” Lyra insisted. 

Vinyl rolled her eyes. “You were in the middle of the store and it was a brief peck on the cheek. I know. I was there.”

“We have a connection!” Lyra insisted. “I'm telling you, it's only a matter of time before we're exclusive.”

Vinyl smirked. “Fine... So why did you come back into the bedroom, anyway?”

“I was looking for you. I got takeout and figured you might want some.”

“Chinese?” Vinyl sat up and asked excitedly. 

Lyra flicked her hand and lifted some chopsticks from her back pocket in her sea-foam green magic. “Is there any other kind?”

Vinyl snatched them out of the air and cheered loudly. She sprinted out the door. 

“You might want to put pants on!” Lyra called. “Just throwing that out there!”
	
> At Work
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Vinyl couldn't help but smile as she stood in line. DJ Pon3 was coming to this club in an hour and already the normal line was long enough to stretch around the block. While Vinyl Scratch was a small-time local celebrity who volunteered to do small shows for birthdays and neighborhood parties and such, DJ Pon3 was only known for huge shows at large clubs that left people deaf and exhausted but aching for more. People loved the music, club owners loved the profits, bouncers loved the overtime, Pon3 loved performing; it was an all-around win situation. For those who managed to get in, at least. 

Lucky for Vinyl, she just so happened to have received a backstage pass. You know, for working with sound setup. And other important backstage-y stuff. Yeah.

She quickly arrived at the front of the VIP line and reached into her pocket for her pass. 

Then her other pocket. 

Then her back pocket. 

Then her other back pocket. 

Then both side pockets. 

Then her bra. 

And then she realized that she had forgotten her pass. She looked up sheepishly at the scowling bouncer. 

“Uh... I'll be back,” she said, turning and ducking under the line before turning and sprinting desperately towards her house. 

She really wished this wasn't such a common occurrence.



* * *



Vinyl sprinted back, extremely out of breath. Unicorns were not designed for constant physical exertion. At least, that's what she told herself.

She arrived, panting and out of breath. This only got worse as she noticed that the line now stretched around the next block. 

Vinyl began hyperventilating. This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all. If she were late, that would do horrendous things to her reputation. 

Desperately, she ducked under the ropes and tried to get in front, only to be blocked by a hand that looked about the size of a shovel. 

“Back of the line,” he growled. 

Vinyl desperately held up her pass. “Look, soundstage pass! I'm part of the sound crew!”

The bouncer paused, then examined the pass. He brightened slightly when he confirmed that this was not just a random hooligan trying to cut in line. “Running a little late, aren't we?”

“There will still be plenty for me to do,” Vinyl said with what she hoped passed for a disarming smile. 

To be perfectly honest, it looked more like a nervous grimace. Either way, the bouncer shrugged and let her in. 

Vinyl sprinted down the hall and darted into the green room. She fought to keep her breathing under control as she shakily reached into a pocket and withdrew a permanent marker. With practiced motions, she added the second note and connecting bar to the cutie mark on both of her shoulders, changing it from a simple single eighth note to the barred eighth that Pon-3 was known by. Her hands shook as she pulled on her black, mesh, fingerless gloves. 

“I can do anything,” she whispered, trying to reassure herself. She pulled off her hair tie and shook her hair with her glowing hands, sending magic coursing through it and making it spike up. “Who managed to pull it together and survive the time all of the speakers blew out? Me.” She pulled off her jacket, revealing the ragged white shirt beneath. “Who managed to save the show after that drunk guy tripped over and shattered half my records? Me.”

Improvising as she got into character, she ripped off the bottom parts of her pants, burning the edges with her magic and making sure the ragged edges were not too stringy. “Who is the greatest DJ in the history of music?” She lit her hands and magically lifted the figurative army of glow sticks. “Me.” She clenched her fists, and as one they all cracked and began to glow brightly. 

“I can do anything,” she whispered as she slid her tail and ears in place. She smirked as she put on her signature glasses. “Because I… am DJ Pon-3.”



* * *



DJ Pon-3 walked onstage, levitating a box of records behind her. Even though she was covered in glowsticks, the current DJ didn't notice her arrive. 

He did notice when she stepped up next to him. “Requesting a song?” he chuckled. 

“Nah. Requesting the decks.”

He looked over incredulously until he recognized the interrupter. “DJ Pon-3!” he squeaked, jumping and accidentally jamming a hand on the record that was currently playing. It sent an awful scratch and blood-chilling feedback through the speakers, and the party ground to a halt as the disgruntled dancers looked for an explanation. Their annoyance turned to cheers and shouts as they recognized DJ Pon-3. 

She lifted the scratched record off the turntable and saw that it was damaged beyond repair, so she lit her hand and burned her signature and cutie mark in it before giving it back to him. He stared at it in glee before realizing that he was holding up the party. He scrambled for his turntables, and Vinyl magically lifted her own onto the stand with a wave of her hand. She moved them like she was weaving a web, and her wires glowed and connected themselves to the building's system. She pulled her headset on, and it glowed blue as it made the connection. She grinned and walked out front, addressing the crowd. “Gooood evening!” she began. “How's everybody doing tonight?”

Loud cheers and whistles answered her. 

DJ Pon-3 stumbled backwards dramatically, as if the sound itself was pushing her back. “Now that’s what I like to hear! I like you guys already,” she said, adjusting her hair as she straightened up. “So I've brought a little surprise for you!” She lowered her glowing hands to her sides, and then raised them above her head. A single record lifted itself out of the box, and laid itself on the turntable. 

“I've got a brand new, never before heard single for you guys. I'm thinking you're gonna like it. But enough talk!” She backflipped over the decks and slammed a fist on the power button, sending music pounding through the air. “Let's do this!”

> First Meetings
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Vinyl stumbled into her house and collapsed on the couch, tossing her backpack aside. “Hopeless!” she proclaimed, burying her face in her hands. “It's hopeless, Lyra!”

Lyra didn't even look up from the book she was reading. “It's never hopeless,” she said playfully. “If you’re short on cash for this month's rent, there’s always a market for strippers.”

Vinyl's jaw dropped. “H- hey! I wasn't talking about rent! I was talking about going out with Octavia!”

Lyra’s smile faltered. She put her book down. “You saw her again today, huh?”

“Yeah. At a restaurant. With that guy she's going out with.” Vinyl pouted. “I swear, he treats her like a trophy and not a person. She deserves someone who gives her the respect she deserves.”

“She does deserve better,” Lyra agreed, sliding her book aside on the couch. If Vinyl was finally going to make her move, she wanted a front-row seat; not only to watch, but to provide any assistance she might need. “She deserves you.”

“She does, doesn't she?” Vinyl said slowly.

"You know all about her music, you know all about her life; I'm telling you, you just need to make a move and the next thing you know, her heart's in your hands and her shirt's on your floor."

Vinyl sat up. “Yeah! I'm going to do it! I totally am! I'm going to walk up to her and I'm going to ignore that buttface she calls a coltfriend and I'm going to grab her hand and I'm going to look her in the eyes and...” Vinyl collapsed and buried her face in her hands. “And I'm going to run away without saying anything, like the coward I am,” she whimpered despondently. 

Lyra quickly walked over and sat down next to her and began rubbing her shoulders comfortingly. “Introvert,” she corrected softly. “You're an introvert. You're not a coward, you're not broken; you're you.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes me sucks,” Vinyl groaned. “I can't even talk to her on the street. I can barely say hi to her. How am I supposed to ask her out?”

Lyra thought about this for a moment. "You don't have to straight-up ask her out, you know. It took me a while to get Bon Bon to warm up to me. We started by just hanging out after her work."

"You don't just 'hang out' with Octavia," Vinyl protested. “She's got things to do. She's a very busy person.”

"Maybe," Lyra said, a slow smile spreading across her face as an idea which should have occurred to her long ago slowly formed in her mind. "But people do record with Octavia, right?"

"Yeah. She's done everything from classical to that cello rock cover group to soloing." Vinyl smiled and interlaced her fingers. "I love her solos. But what's that got to do with anything?"

"Well, you write music. You could accidentally run into her, and while you're talking, mention your songs and ask her to ‘befriend’ you or whatever you electronica types say when you collaborate on a song. It's good because you're working with her and not revealing your real intention is to get inside her panties."

Vinyl sat up indignantly. “I am not an electronica artist,” she protested. “I am a DJ who happens to write her own house music with strong rave influences.”

Lyra was mildly disappointed that she had chosen that phrase to react to. “Fine. But I think it's a good idea.”

“And where would I just run into her?”

Lyra thought for a moment. “How about the biyearly musician guild meeting? It's next week, isn't it?”

Vinyl shook her head. “I let my membership expire.” She crossed her arms. “It's no fun going to those, and it's not worth the tiny sandwiches and weak punch they serve there.”

“We both know that the sandwiches and punch are not the point of the meeting,” Lyra said flatly. “You're expected to talk with other musicians and brag about your successes and how much money you’ve made since the last time you met.”

“Yet another reason I let my membership expire,” Vinyl grumbled.  “You know how much I hate talking about myself.”

“You're a very interesting person!” Lyra protested.

“Right.” Vinyl rolled her eyes. 

Lyra decided to tactfully ignore the facts that Vinyl could play five different instruments, had maintained a 3.8 throughout college, and could improvise almost anything from a single motif, not to mention she had a very fascinating alter-ego. She gently nudged Vinyl. “Come on. It'll be fun! And Octavia will be there…”

Vinyl sighed. “Fine, I guess I'll go for a bit. It could be ok, I guess.”



*  *  *



It was not ok, and Vinyl was definitely not having fun. She tugged at the dress she was wearing. It was too loose in the top—she just didn't have the measurements necessary to fill it out—and the slit up the side went far too high up her thigh for her liking. She leaned over towards Lyra. “This was a terrible idea,” she hissed. “I want to go home.”

“We just got here,” Lyra protested. Her own strapless seafoam dress was a bit more modest, losing most of its fabric down her exposed back.  Vinyl had the tiniest inkling of a suspicion that Lyra had chosen these dresses on purpose. 

“And it's still been far too long,” Vinyl insisted. 

“Just breathe. Octavia isn't even here yet,” Lyra said placatingly.

“I don't care. I'm going home.” She turned to leave, but Lyra grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back.

“You didn't get what you came for,” she pointed out. “Come on. You got here, didn't you? And you managed to stay this long. That's like getting three-fourths of the way there but not finishing.”

“A seventy-five percent is a C,” Vinyl retorted. “That's still passing.”

“But not finishing,” Lyra insisted. “And people really, really like finishing.”

Vinyl paused. Knowing Lyra, that probably had somewhat sexual connotations. She turned and narrowed her eyes slightly.

If she did mean it to be taken in a dirty way, though, Lyra didn't dwell on it. “Come on, Vinyl. It's just a little bit longer. You can do this. You can be strong for your lover.”

Vinyl sighed. When she put it that way... “I guess.”

Lyra laughed lightly and clapped her on the shoulder as she passed her a drink. “Atta girl! Welp, I'm gonna go mingle. Have fun!” And she bounced off.

Vinyl scowled. She hated that word, mingle. That's what her mother would always say to her. 'Vinyl, go mingle! You need to be more social! Make friends, Vinyl, make friends!' she would say, as if it were just that easy. Maybe it was for some people, but not for Vinyl. 

She leaned back against the wall, nursing her little cup of red punch, watching everyone and looking down. Currently, her attention was held by the punch. Why was it red? Especially if so many women were wearing light-colored dresses and the men wore mostly white shirts and fancy tuxedo-thingies that had to be dry-cleaned. Perhaps this was the more affluent way of living dangerously? It definitely looked like a safer alternative to some of the crazy stuff DJ Pon-3 had seen from behind her decks. She’d gotten quite adept at noticing paramedics working their way through the crowd.

She stared at her punch for a while before draining it in one shot, luckily not spilling a drop. She was tired, exhausted, and just about to just leave and go home without Lyra when she suddenly saw her. 

Octavia. 

She stood at the top of the stairs, wearing a pearl necklace that went perfectly with her gray dress. Her jet black hair was done up and flowed down like velvet waterfalls, her pale skin looked flawless in the light, and Vinyl's breath caught in her throat as she looked her over. 

Of course, this feeling of elation at seeing the object of her desire was quickly quashed by the appearance of her coltfriend. He wrapped an arm around her waist, and Vinyl subconsciously crushed her cup in quiet rage. How dare he. 

“He doesn't know what treasures he takes for granted, huh?”

Vinyl nodded… then jumped. She looked over to see Lyra, grinning widely. She gave Vinyl's butt a push with her hip. “Go on! Ask her! She's right here! Go!”

“I… I can't,” Vinyl whimpered. Her heels seemed to have suddenly grown roots, and Octavia looked as though she were a hundred miles away. 

“Sure you can,” Lyra said. “I'm your wingmare here! What can't we do together?”

“Get a gallon of ice cream to last longer than a week?”

“…” Lyra found she had no rebuttal for this. In their apartment, ice cream had been placed on quite the pedestal. Everything from passing a test (protocol eight) to a lousy gig (protocol thirteen) to a combined celebration (protocol four) to a devastating event (protocol seventeen) to making enough money to pay the rent (protocol nine) was answered with ice cream. 

“Don't ask a question if you don't want the answer,” Vinyl grinned cheekily. 

“Ok then,” Lyra said. “Here's a question for you. Will you be able to masturbate happy tonight knowing you passed up an opportunity to get to physically hang out with Octavia?”

Vinyl blushed about the color of the punch as she looked around to see if anyone had overheard. “I do not masturbate at night!” she hissed. 

“Go ask her, and tonight you might have a reason to,” Lyra winked. 

“There is something seriously, seriously wrong with you,” Vinyl grumbled. 

But when she looked up at Octavia, she was alone once more. A new sense of daring filled Vinyl, and she decided to take this chance. Swallowing and steeling herself, she began to walk up the stairs. They seemed to be getting taller and taller and harder and harder to climb, especially in heels, but she managed to arrive. 

And then she looked up and Octavia was no longer alone. She didn't even recognize the female pegasus that Octavia was talking to, but that was enough to spook her. She quickly stopped and turned around and headed back down the stairs. 

Unfortunately, the stallion right behind her hadn't known about her intentions, as stallions have since the dawn of time been unable to read the minds of mares. She collided with him and they tumbled down the red carpet to the next landing, with him winding up on bottom and cushioning her fall. 

He recovered quickly, and he pulled his red tie off her face. “Please don't take this the wrong way,” he said with a smile as he brushed his brown hair out of his eyes, “but aren't I supposed to buy you dinner first or something?”

The surrounding musicians chuckled. Vinyl blushed a deeper red than the color of the punch and, ducking her head, quickly got up and headed back towards the corner. 

Lyra appeared suddenly beside her, reaching for her shoulder. “Vinyl, you were so cl-”

“No!” Vinyl hissed, not slowing her pace until she was back safely against the wall. “No! You don't get to talk now!”

“But-”

“I can't do it! I can't talk to her! See? This is what happens when I go in public! I screw up something, and this time it was in front of her! She saw, I know she did!”

“Who?”

“Octavia!”

“Yes?”

Both jumped at the new voice breaking in, and then slowly rotated towards the speaker. 

Octavia stood there, head cocked slightly. 

Vinyl's eyes widened and she froze completely. She hadn't planned for this. Lyra gave her another none-too-gentle nudge, but Vinyl still was unable to move. 

Octavia tried again. “I couldn't help but notice that you wanted to talk to me?”

Lyra realized that Vinyl was totally and completely drowning, and so she jumped in to save her. “Vinyl here is an artist, and she was looking for someone to play a solo in one of her newest songs, and I suggested you.”

“Yeah,” Vinyl said, grateful for the lead-in. “I just didn't want to interrupt, you know? I mean, I've heard you play in a lot of songs and you're the best and I really wanted to know if you'd be willing to come record with me?”

Octavia smiled modestly and averted her eyes slightly. “Oh, 'best' might be a bit of an exaggeration; but I must admit I have a weakness for new music opportunities. I truly believe music can be found anywhere, even in the strangest of places.” She smiled, and Vinyl felt happy chills run through her body. “I accept.”

Vinyl smiled widely. Success! Nothing else could go wrong tonight!

There was a moment of silence. Lyra shuffled her heels slightly.

Octavia coughed lightly. “When should we…?”

“Oh, right,” Vinyl said, blushing slightly. She'd spoken too soon. “Probably should tell you when and where, huh?”

Octavia smiled. “It might help.”

Vinyl looked around and grabbed a napkin off a table. “Do you have a pen?”

“Always.” Octavia reached inside her top and pulled out a pencil. Vinyl took it and briefly reflected on how strange it was to see someone so classy do something so... normal.

As she wrote down her information, a shadow fell across the group. “Octavia. There you are.”

A cold shiver ran up Vinyl's back as she turned to see Octavia's coltfriend. 

“What's going on here?” he asked, with just a hint of suspicion in his voice. “Who are your friends?”

Vinyl kept her voice level as she held out the napkin she'd written on. “Vinyl. Vinyl Scratch,” she introduced herself. “Not too much; Octavia just accepted my invitation to come record something with me.”

Though Octavia reached for it, he was faster; he snatched it and examined it before passing it to Octavia. “Ah, I see. Make sure you treat her right, eh?”

Vinyl sniffed. “I'll treat her better than you do, you wanker. You wouldn't know how to treat a mare right if she gave you illustrated step-by-step instructions.”

At least, that's what Thought Vinyl said. Real Vinyl meekly said, “Don't worry, I will,” and smiled politely.

He smiled and gently but firmly dragged Octavia away. “Come on over here, Octavia. There's someone I want to introduce you to.”

Octavia waved as she was pulled away. Vinyl's anger was mitigated by the fact that she had succeeded; she had successfully obtained a date-not-date with Octavia. Feeling as though she could fly, she floated home with Lyra. 



*  *  *



That night, as both mares were getting ready for bed, Lyra leaned over and grinned impishly. “Sooo…?”

Vinyl pulled her pillow over her face. “For the last time, I'm not going to masturbate tonight!” she screeched. 
> Recording, Take One
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	It was the agreed-upon day, and nearing the agreed-upon time. Octavia was coming over and would be here soon, ready to record and bring new music to the world. 

And Vinyl was, for lack of a better phrase, freaking out. 

“Calm down, Vinyl,” Lyra repeated. 

“I am calm!” Vinyl shrieked, grabbing at her hair. 

Lyra smirked as she lifted her sandwich to her mouth. Vinyl had refused a sandwich of her own, showing that that previous statement had been a complete lie. “You're pacing back and forth and you've written and rewritten her part no less than fifteen times. You are not calm.”

Vinyl slowed to a stop; she hadn't noticed that she was pacing. She crossed her arms. “Am too!”

Lyra chewed thoughtfully and then tried the comforting angle. “Vinyl, you are a great writer and a great musician. This is going to go very smoothly, I promise.”

“But how do you know?” Vinyl whimpered. “What if I mess this up and she leaves angry and she never wants to see me again?”

“What if she loves your music so much she has to change her panties when she gets home?” Lyra challenged. “You've gotta think both ways, Vinyl.”

Vinyl's cheeks colored slightly at that pleasant image. Luckily, she was spared needing a witty comeback when the doorbell rang, and Vinyl jumped up. She was here! Was it always this hard to breathe? 

“That's my cue to exit, stage left,” Lyra grinned. “Good luck!”

“You're leaving me alone? Where are you going?” Vinyl hissed. 

“I'm going to go see Bon Bon,” Lyra answered as though it should be obvious. “I'm hoping she'll come over for dinner.”

Vinyl cracked a smile. “Fine, but you're cooking!”

Lyra groaned at that. “I'm trying to get her in my panties, Vinyl, not scar her for life.”

The sound of knocking made Vinyl jump, and all her insecurities came rushing back. “Oh no! She's waiting! At the door! What if she gets impatient? What if she's angry with me? I’ve gotta make a good first impression!”

“What if she knows you could be in a soundproof sound booth?” Lyra sighed. “I'll get it.”

“No!” Vinyl darted over to the door. “It needs to be me! Have fun on your date!”

Lyra's smile faded slightly. For it to be a date, both parties would need to be expecting it; as of right now, only Lyra knew about this visit. She sighed, and started to head out the back door. 

Vinyl opened the door, and her eyes widened slightly. There stood Octavia, wearing a black vest over a white shirt and long dark pants, carrying her cello in a protective case on her back. It was one of those outfits that, while it didn't call attention to her physical assets, it certainly didn't try to hide them. 

“Hi,” Vinyl said. She winced internally. That was definitely not the pleasant, witty greeting she’d planned on delivering.

“Good afternoon,” Octavia returned with a smile. 

There was still a chance to recover. “You look nice,” Vinyl blurted.

Nope. There was no redemption for her. 

Octavia gave a small smile. “I've found that attention to one's appearance translates well to one's playing ability, and I'm sure a good performance is desired if you're recording every note.”

“It's always good when you're playing,” Vinyl said, wincing internally again at how awkward and stilted that complement had sounded. 

Octavia merely nodded gracefully, accepting the complement. “I try. Now, shall we begin?”

Vinyl took a step back. “Oh, yeah. Right. Follow me.”



*  *  *



Octavia nodded approvingly as she took in Vinyl's setup. One whole third of the room was walled off with thick, gray, fuzzy walls, forming the soundproof booth part of Vinyl's recording studio. There were a few exposed staples, evidence of expanding foam was on the edges of the panels, and the space for the glass window had obviously been cut twice; Vinyl had definitely built this herself. Outside the box was the recording and mastering portion of the studio. Though it was organized chaos at best, with wires and speakers and boxes of records everywhere, Vinyl clearly cared about her things; the carpet was clean, the records in the boxes were organized alphabetically, the criss-crossing cables on the floor and walls were duct-taped down so as to not present a tripping hazard and were color-coded with bands of electric tape every few feet, the posters on the wall were straight, the 88-key keyboard had a wide berth of space around it and had its own special stand with matching seat, and her personal turntables rested in a hard-shell protective case in a special out of the way place. Octavia observed that the studio monitors sitting on the floor were huge, far too large to fit comfortably in the soundproof booth if someone were already in it. She raised an eyebrow. 

“Yeeeah, kindof blew all my money and haven't got around to getting smaller monitors, and these don't fit in the booth, especially if you try to put the mixing board in there, too,” Vinyl said, sheepishly rubbing the back of her neck. “My special talent is music, not measuring or carpenter-ing.”

“I imagine your neighbors don't appreciate that,” Octavia observed wryly. 

Vinyl shrugged. “Girl to the left is a retail slave and works weird hours, the two guys on the right are firefighters and never home.” She cracked a smile. “And the kids across the street like my stuff and tell me to turn it up.” She paused. “Their parents don't share their musical tastes, unfortunately,” she added, remembering the strongly-worded letter she had received. 

Lyra had burned that letter. She was a good friend.

Octavia nodded, impressed that she'd taken the time to figure that out. She certainly seemed competent. “It is a nice setup,” Octavia said agreeably. “Certainly larger than I had expected when I saw you had given me a townhome address.”

Vinyl grinned, happy that she had pleased Octavia. “It was my bedroom at first, but Lyra let me do a total conversion on it and move in to her room. You'd think sharing a room would get old after college, but she's been a great roommate.”

“That's good to hear.” Octavia walked over and opened the door to the sound booth itself. Inside was a basic black music stand, with a lyre engraved in it, and a kitchen chair. Two microphones were mounted to the wall by adjustable boom stands, and a third designed for vocals stood in the corner, and Octavia briefly mourned not being gifted vocally. “Is this my part?” she asked, examining the music set up on the stand. 

Vinyl nodded. “Yes,” she said. “What do you think?” She winced, hoping she hadn't come across as not confident in her abilities. 

Octavia's eyes flickered across the sheet music, silently playing the music in her head, and then she brightened. “Oh, yes. This should sound quite good indeed.” She pulled out her cello and set it up. 

“I can get the microphones adjusted,” Vinyl offered, standing to do just that. 

“Oh, no need,” Octavia said, reaching inside her case and pulling a thin cardioid condenser microphone out. She clipped it to the edge of the tailpiece and adjusted it so it faced the f-hole. 

Vinyl whistled as she took the proffered cable and plugged it into her mixer. Those little mics were not cheap. “You came prepared,” she observed.

“Always,” Octavia smiled. She pulled the door shut, and then slid on one of the headsets on over one ear so she could hear the backing music as well as the unadulterated sound of her cello. Vinyl leaned over to the keyboard and pressed the A key, and was startled to hear it come blaring out of the monitors. She quickly switched them off and grinned sheepishly. 

Octavia merely smiled. 

Vinyl quickly switched over to the headphones and pressed the key again, and Octavia quickly tuned her instrument to Vinyl's tone. Vinyl listened as she played the fifths to tune her other strings, and felt that even something as mundane as tuning sounded good from Octavia. 

As Octavia finished tuning, Vinyl quickly adjusted her levels until she felt her eq was perfect. She pushed the microphone button, the one that let her voice come over both their headphones. “You ready?” she asked. 

Octavia nodded. 

“Want me to play it through first, like a practice run, or…?”

Octavia considered this briefly, and then a predatory smile crossed her face. “I'm feeling daring today; let's just do it now.”

Vinyl nodded and pressed play and record. Octavia nodded and counted in, following along on the score until she was to come in. 

And then she played. 

Vinyl found herself needing to forcefully press her hands on the table to keep them from drifting down between her legs. Octavia took the music Vinyl had written and breathed life into it, and she looked amazing as she did. 

Midway through the middle part, she squinted at the page and slowed down. 

Vinyl stopped the recording and playback, then pressed the microphone button. “What's up?”

Octavia's microphone picked up her voice. “I'm not sure—and of course, I mean no offense—but I think this progression is the slightest bit off.”

Vinyl cocked her head and pressed her microphone button. “How so?”

“Well, you've got this-” She played what Vinyl had written, “-but it seems like that might sound better like this-” and she played her own version. 

Vinyl was impressed and was not too proud to admit that it was indeed better than her own. It was not something written; Octavia had taken an idea and put part of herself in it. “Beautiful,” Vinyl whispered into the microphone. 

Octavia shrugged slightly. “Thank you; but I'm not sure it was perfect just yet.”

“I meant you.”

Vinyl clapped her hands over her mouth, shocked that that had come out. She looked at Octavia, afraid of seeing her reaction but unable to look away. 

Octavia cocked her head and held a hand to her ear. Vinyl realized she hadn't been pressing the microphone button, and so Octavia hadn't heard from within the soundproof booth. 

She pushed the button and lied, “I said, ok, if you say so; but I think it's great. We'll take it from…” Her eyes scanned the sheet music. “…measure thirty five?”

Octavia nodded and rested her bow on the strings once more; but Vinyl could only wonder what would have happened if she had heard. 



*  *  *



Lyra burst in. “Great news!”

“Me too!”

“Bon Bon said yes to dinner!”

“I recorded with Octavia and it only took four takes, and I didn't screw it up too badly!”

Lyra and Vinyl gave each other an exuberant high five. “Protocol four!” they cheered as they sprinted to the freezer. 

> Success and Failure
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Lyra was many things, but an early riser was not one of them. She was of the strong opinion that while the early bird got the worm, the second mouse got the cheese, and she'd happily take cheese over worms any day of the week. And since batting cleanup at the food table at parties meant you could eat as much as you want without feeling guilty that you were taking too much from other people, it was obvious to her that being the first to wake up was also severely overrated. 

Thus it was a very bleary-eyed and stumbling girl in twisted, crumpled pajamas that stumbled out of her room at a quarter past eight. She shuffled over to the front door, retrieved the newspaper from their doorstep, and collapsed on the couch. Holding up up and squinting with one eye, she only half-heartedly looked through the front pages before rolling over onto her back and looking for the comics. 

She cracked a few smiles at some of the characters and folded the paper again, ready to put it over her face and fall back to sleep for another hour; but then she saw a very familiar-looking name stand out in the previous page of the Life section. Her eyes widened as she flipped back and read the attached article. “Hey, Vinyl!” she called, sitting up. 

Vinyl poked her head out of the kitchen. “What?”

“Come here!”

“But my waffles,” Vinyl protested. She and Lyra had long ago set up a system that if one cooked, the other would clean; but since Lyra could burn a salad (had burned, to be honest), it was usually Vinyl making breakfast. Since Vinyl didn't like eating breakfast at ten (which is when Lyra usually finished waking up enough to be semi-productive) this also meant that Lyra was getting very, very good at cleaning spells. 

“Waffles can wait! Check this out!”

Vinyl grumbled. “Fine, but if this one burns, you're eating it.” She walked over and read where Lyra's finger was. It was near a chart of the top songs of the month and…

Then her jaw dropped as she followed her finger. 

“Number one locally?” she gasped. 

“Yeah,” Lyra said. “That single you recorded with Octavia last month got big. And guess whose song is beneath yours?”

Vinyl read and felt a surge of pleasure as she read the name of Octavia's coltfriend. She sat back, stunned but pleased. “I did it,” she breathed. 

“You did,” Lyra agreed. 

“I really did it.”

“You really did do it.”

Vinyl sat, basking in her success for a moment. Lyra let her; it had been a while since Vinyl had done anything that she had felt really proud of doing.

Finally, Vinyl snapped herself out of her trance. “You know, I should record with her again.”

“You totally should!” Lyra cheered. 

Vinyl rubbed her hands together, the gears in her mind already spinning rapidly. “That one was more chill. I've got a much more active song that I'd love to hear her take on. Yeah. I want her to stand out this time, and she'd do a wicked solo, I just know it… drop the violins on that part and just have her come in there and…”

“Um, Vinyl?”

Vinyl waved her down. “Lyra, don't interrupt me; I'm being all genius-y here!”

“Is it just me, or is something burning?”

Vinyl gasped and sprinted back to the kitchen, her mental music notes disappearing into smoke and trailing behind her. “My waffles!” she wailed.



*  *  *



That weekend, Vinyl Scratch and Lyra stood outside the concert hall. Vinyl wore something a little bit more comfortable tonight; and by that it should be understood that she was wearing a small black jacket that covered most of what was exposed by her dress.

“Does she even know you're coming?” Lyra asked. She had elected to wear the same dress as before, but this time she had completely changed her hairstyle. Her hair flowed like a waterfall, and Vinyl felt just the tiniest twinge of jealousy.

“No,” Vinyl admitted, “but I wanted to come anyway. I might see her here.”

Lyra inhaled, then exhaled. The chances of that happening were very low; but she was not about to shoot down Vinyl like that.

Vinyl shrugged. “But even if I don’t, it’s good to go out and be a little bit cultured, you know? Do something that doesn’t involve me coming home smelling like ethanol?”

“I thought you liked the smell of ethanol,” Lyra said teasingly. Once, Vinyl had come home with a broken wrist because Pon-3 had tracked down and punched someone in the face who had spilled his drink on her shirt, and she’d had to smell it all night.

“I tolerate the smell of ethanol,” Vinyl said flatly. “Besides, I've had these tickets for a while.”

“Are these the tickets you camped out until six am for?”

“Yes,” Vinyl muttered. 

“And you were the only one waiting for these in that line?”

“Also yes,” Vinyl mumbled. 

Lyra gave her a gentle bump with her hips. “Totally worth it, though, right?”

Vinyl brightened. “Oh, yes.”

They soon found their seats. Fifteen minutes later, the lights dimmed, and the concert began. Vinyl clapped exceptionally loudly as the curtain rose, but refrained from cheering as she caught sight of Octavia. She looked exceptionally good tonight, in Vinyl's opinion. 

They started with a famous sonata. Vinyl was unsurprised; in any venue, people tended to remember what they saw first and last, so those two songs always had to be showstoppers. 

After the third song, which featured a rare cello solo section, Lyra leaned over. “Bet you wish she was working that bow magic on you, huh?” Lyra whispered with a wink. 

Vinyl gave her a little shove. “Horsehair can't get wet, idiot,” she hissed. “That ruins it.”

Lyra raised an eyebrow teasingly. “I was talking about making music, not making love. Pervert.”

“Yeah, sure,” Vinyl said, blushing furiously and turning back to face the stage. “Whatever you say, Lyra.”

“You’re a kinky pervert,” Lyra sang under her breath. 

Vinyl chose to ignore her. She closed her eyes and focused on the music. The tickets had been pricy, but worth it. It was three hours of bliss. Vinyl may not have played classical music herself, but she had been classically trained. She could hear the subtle characteristics that gave it such a high reputation, the nuances in rhythm and volume that a regular visitor wouldn’t have understood or appreciated.

Vinyl understood. And, of course, this music was all wrapped up in beautiful packaging.

After her performance, Octavia bowed with the rest of the ensemble. Somehow, out of all the people in the audience, her eyes caught Vinyl's, and she smiled. Vinyl waved back shyly. It had all been more than worth it. 



*  *  *


Lyra and Vinyl walked back into the atrium. Well, Lyra walked; Vinyl more or less floated along. Octavia had seen her, and she would have paid twice the amount for those tickets just for-

“Vinyl?” 

“Yeah?” Vinyl asked, looking over at Lyra. 

Lyra shrugged. She hadn't spoken. 

Vinyl looked over her shoulder and saw a very familiar mare standing there. “Octavia!”

Octavia smiled and nodded. “It is me,” she said. “I'm somewhat surprised to see you here; the Second Symphony isn’t exactly the most popular of our repertoire.” 

“Yeah, well,” Vinyl said with a slight blush. “I've always loved your music, and you're a star on stage. Seriously. I was only watching you. You've got command, artistry…” Vinyl's voice trailed off as she realized she was rambling again, and she blushed slightly darker. 

Lyra giggled, but Octavia was unfazed. She gave a modest nod. “I'm glad you find my music so impressive.”

“It's really impressive,” Vinyl affirmed. 

Octavia's eyes twinkled. “High praise from someone whose last song just made the number one slot on the pop chart,” she said. 

Vinyl shrugged as she tried to hide a smile. Octavia had noticed her success! “Yeah, well, it was totally you, really. You made that song special. You put real feeling into it.” Words just kept tumbling out of Vinyl's mouth, but this time it didn't feel like a complete train wreck. “Would you like to come record with me again? I've got something a little faster that I think you'd sound great on, too.”

Octavia smiled. “I'd love to,” she said. “Same as last time?”

Vinyl nodded. “If that works for you.”

“It does,” Octavia said. “I'll see you then. I'd probably better get going; I’ve got early morning rehearsal.” She cracked a smile. “No rest for the wicked, as they say.”

“Isn't he going to walk you home?” Vinyl asked. 

Octavia's lips tightened ever so slightly. “No, no he's not. It's not that far to my apartment, though.” She paused. “I don't think he's ever come to one of my performances.”

Vinyl clenched her fist. “That's just wrong.”

“C'est la vie,” Octavia shrugged. “Until then, Vinyl.”

“Yeah. Bye.”

They watched her go back into the back room. 

There was a pause. 

“Vinyl?” Lyra said, sidling even closer to her friend. 

“Yes, Lyra?” Vinyl said. 

“That was the part where you were supposed to step up and offer to walk her home, Vinyl.”

Vinyl bit her lower lip. “I know,” she whimpered. Failure!

Lyra rested a comforting arm over her shoulders. “There's always next time.”

Vinyl grumbled something incoherent under her breath.

> Slice of Life and Lasagna
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Lyra examined herself in the mirror and rotated her torso slightly. She tugged down the tight shirt she wore and considered her cleavage and adjusted the wide belt that held up her tight pants, and then a wide smile split her face. She had been trying for a happy medium of playful teasing without coming across as too explicit, and she had absolutely nailed it, if she did say so herself. 

And say so she did. “Looking good, Lyra!” she said, giving herself a wink and a thumbs up.

Satisfied, she opened the door to her room and stopped short. It smelled delicious in the house. She glanced left and right, but didn’t see Vinyl. She quickly scampered over to the kitchen and peeked inside. Her eyes widened as they landed on a small plate of garlic breadsticks. She licked her lips. Surely Vinyl wouldn't mind if she took just one?

Looking around, she sneaked in further and slowly reached for one. 

And then an oven mitt carried in light cobalt blue magic bopped her lightly on the back of the head. “No! Bad Lyra! No eating yet,” Vinyl scolded from behind her. “Dinner is in half an hour, you can wait.”

Lyra turned to glare at Vinyl and rubbed the back of her head, but it was more for show than anything; it had been a playful hit and nothing more. “It smells so good, though,” she whined.

Vinyl grinned as she finished tying back her hair. “My world-famous lasagna with six layers and five, count them, five kinds of cheeses, lovingly coated in a variety of spices and just a hint of parsley on top.”

Lyra contented herself by peeking in the oven door. Then she shut it and turned back to Vinyl, frowning. “This isn't enough for three,” she protested. 

“No, but it is enough for two.”

“You're not staying?” Lyra asked, surprised. 

“Nah. Tonight, I feast on complimentary peanuts and pink lemonade.” She grinned as she headed for a supply drawer. “And most of your garlic bread, so sorry in advance.”

Lyra grinned ruefully. “Gig tonight?”

“Yep. Pon-3 does, anyway. Do I usually wear this much mascara?” Vinyl asked rhetorically. 

Lyra folded her arms. “Aww. I wanted you to meet Bon Bon.”

Vinyl scoffed as she finished loading her pockets with glowsticks. “And I want my wallet to not be as empty as the Rusty Horseshoe's manager's head, so it’ll have to be next time.”

Lyra smiled a consoling smile. “You're working for her tonight, eh?”

“She's not too bright, but she pays good,” Vinyl shrugged and hit the drawer shut with her hip. “And it's not so bad a gig, really.”

“Vinyl, you perform behind a chicken wire cage because that one DJ got hit with a bottle and had to be taken to the hospital,” Lyra deadpanned.

“I know who you're talking about, and he kindof deserved it,” Vinyl said dismissively. “He was always bad at reading the crowd. You gotta feel the crowd, you dig?”

Lyra rolled her eyes. “Just as long as the crowd doesn’t feel like sending you to the hospital,” she muttered darkly. “I am not staying up until three AM in the ER with you again.”

“It was one time!” Vinyl protested as she tossed her oven mitts on the counter. “I gotta go get dressed. Just remember to take the lasagna out of the oven in half an hour.”

“More like undressed,” Lyra said cheekily. 

“Excuse you,” Vinyl said, feigning offense. “I'll have you know I wear more articles of clothing as Pon-3 than not.”

Lyra grinned, teasing. “Gloves don't count as two articles of clothing.”

“They do, too!” Vinyl said. 

“And fishnets aren't clothes, either.”

Vinyl paused, then retorted, “You've obviously never worn them.”

Lyra opened her mouth… then shut it. 

“You’ve never worn fishnets?” Vinyl laughed, but then it trailed off. “Eh, you're not missing too much,” she admitted wryly. “They ride up something awful. But they get some good reactions. Especially when they match with the top.”

Lyra shrugged. 

Vinyl removed her hairtie and ran her hand through her hair, sending a jolt of static electricity that made it stand on end and look even wilder than usual. “Just remember. Thirty minutes.”



* * *



Vinyl pushed the box of records to the edge of the bottom step with her foot and then groaned. It was only about four steps to the top, but still it looked like an insurmountable mountain to someone as tired as she. She threw her head back and exhaled her displeasure roughly towards the sky. It had been a long, rough show, and the adrenaline had worn off a bit earlier than she would have liked. 

But still, she couldn’t exactly sleep out here, so she forced herself up the stairs and fell against the door. The handle didn’t move at her touch. Cursing locks and doors in general, she dug around for her keys in the tiny pockets of her far-too-tight shorts and then nudged the door open. She stopped short as the stench of burnt something assaulted her senses. 

Her eyes widened. Now fully alert, she left her records on the ground and sprinted into the kitchen. 

There was no fire; but there was definitely charred evidence of one. The oven door and the space above was blackened with soot, and Vinyl groaned. 

Lyra jumped up from the kitchen table and banged her knee against the tabletop. She hissed under her breath and hopped around for a bit, then looked up and smiled at Vinyl. “Vinyl! You're home early.”

“I went overtime an hour and a half and earned an extra seventy bits.” Her eyes wandered behind Lyra to examine the oven again. “And something tells me that's going to go down the drain pretty soon.”

“Oh, don’t think of it like that. Think instead, it’s going into a well-needed home improvement project!” Lyra said brightly. 

Vinyl raised an eyebrow. 

Lyra managed to maintain her smile for only a few more minutes before her hands dropped and her face fell. “Ok, I forgot the lasagna in the oven and then I didn't notice until Bon Bon knocked on the door,” Lyra confessed sheepishly. 

Vinyl looked at her flatly. She had worked hard on that lasagna. 

“It worked out,” Lyra defended herself lamely. “We ate what wasn't charred and she said it was really good, and then we went to her house and made chocolate.”

Vinyl blinked.

“I brought you some?” Lyra offered hopefully, lifting one in her golden magic. 

Vinyl snatched it away with her own magic and pulled it into her hand. She examined it critically (by that, it should be understood that she squinted at it suspiciously; she knew nothing about chocolate except that it tasted good), and then tossed it into her mouth. She chewed slowly… and then her eyes widened. “You have got to get this girl,” she said. 

Lyra grinned sheepishly. “I'm trying,” she said. “Awesome cleavage or no, burnt stuff doesn't quite set a romantic mood. But she said ok to going out to lunch next week, so there's that.”

“What were you doing that you didn't smell it?”

Lyra mumbled an answer that seemed slightly disturbing. 

“What?”

“Trying on your fishnets?” Lyra said a bit louder. 

Vinyl blinked. 

Lyra shuffled slightly. 

Vinyl squinted. “You have a bigger butt than me,” she pointed out. 

“They stretch,” Lyra said sheepishly. “And leave markings.”

Vinyl groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Keep them. I will deal with the rest of this in the morning. Good night, Lyra.” Still holding a hand to her face, Vinyl lit her dominant hand, magically dragged her records inside and shut the front door, and then shuffled back to her bedroom.

“If it makes a difference, I left a mint one on your pillow?” Lyra called after her.

There was a quiet squelch from the bedroom as Vinyl’s head hit the pillow. Lyra winced. Her warning had not come quick enough.

But when she stepped inside, Vinyl was fast asleep. Lyra grinned and lit her hand. A little cleaning spell, and Vinyl would be none the wiser.

> Recording, Take Two
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	The time had come once again; once more, Octavia's presence would grace Vinyl's little studio. Vinyl was a little more relaxed for this second recording session, and by that it should be understood that she was only pacing a little bit through the living room, chewing on the fingernails of only one hand, and was not having too much trouble breathing. She still hadn't eaten anything all morning, though, and the way her stomach was churning, that wasn’t about to change. 

She licked her lips again. For some reason, she tasted like mint chocolate this morning, and this was unexpected but not unpleasant.

When the doorbell finally rang right on time, she sprinted down to open it. She slipped and nearly tumbled down the steps, but managed to recover her footing before faceplanting into the banister. She paused in front of the door, caught her breath, quickly adjusted her hair, and then opened it.

Octavia stood there, waiting patiently. She looked somewhat distracted, and fiddled with the cello case strap that went across her chest.

Vinyl barely managed not to stare at that. “Hi! Are you ok?” she asked. 

“Oh, yes,” Octavia said distractedly. “I'm fine. You said you had a fast song for me today?”

Vinyl knew she was not fine, but she didn't feel comfortable pushing Octavia just yet. She stepped back to let her in. “Yes I do. Right this way.” She bowed respectfully, as if she were a butler of some kind, and was relieved to see Octavia crack a tiny smile as she passed.

It was indeed a faster song, but Octavia was never one to back down from a challenge. Setup was completed quickly and quietly... too quietly. Octavia still seemed distracted by something weighty, and Vinyl just didn't know how to start a conversation to find out what was wrong. So, feeling as though she were missing a golden opportunity she simply couldn't grasp, Vinyl merely adjusted her levels as Octavia tuned. 

Vinyl had only had to play the track through twice before Octavia felt confident enough to record her part. With her posture upright, her eyes half-lidded, and her bow freshly rosined, she nodded to indicate she was ready. Vinyl counted her down and hit record.

She started slowly, gently bobbing her head with the beat, almost as if she were not even there for the first part. During the chorus, she quietly played along with the louder notes of the bassline. Then for the second verse, she followed along the bassline but changed the notes slightly in one measure before falling back into line, one of those little hidden trills that you only notice on the second or third time listening but then can never miss it again. She did it again for a bit longer next verse, dropped off during the second chorus, and then went into full-on improvisation for the interlude afterwards. Her fingers flew on the black wood and the strings sang. Her eyes were closed as she lost herself in the music. She was truly in her element, and for a moment, she finally looked at peace.

Midway through her solo, Octavia looked up and saw Vinyl dancing to the music, with her eyes closed and shaking her body with the beat, thoroughly enjoying the music. A smile flickered across Octavia's face. Vinyl was adorable, really. She was cute and loved music, and she seemed to brighten every time she saw her. 

Did that mean…? 

Octavia shook her head and continued playing. It was indeed possible; but one could never assume anything about anyone’s sexuality. She would find out sooner or later.

As it turned out, it would be sooner. As Octavia was packing, she was aware of Vinyl standing somewhat close; and by standing it should be understood that she was leaning back and forth and unable to find a good place for her hands, shifting from her pockets to her vest to her belt to just wringing them, as if she had something she really wanted to say but no idea how to say it. 

Octavia packed slowly, taking her time as she methodically wiped off the rosin dust on the lower end of the fingerboard with a cloth and wrapping and packing her microphone with much more care and much less speed than usual. The zipper seemed to move more slowly, and the screw in her bow tighter and harder to turn. Finally, as she was packing her bow back in the case, it came tumbling out. 

“Could we do this again sometime?” Vinyl asked hopefully. 

Octavia raised an eyebrow. She had been in Canterlot long enough to understand verbal games and when what was said was not what was meant, and she certainly knew an opportunity when she saw one. “Are you saying that because you want to record with me, or because you like seeing me?” she asked.

Vinyl was not a good liar. “Um… both. The first one is great but there may be a little bit of the second one as well.” She smiled sheepishly. Had she ruined this by being too honest? Was that a thing? Ruining a relationship with honesty?

Octavia smiled and rested her hand on Vinyl's shoulder. “I'm a regular mare, Vinyl, just like everyone else. If you want to ask me out, do it.”

Vinyl almost didn't hear that last part; her heart was pounding hard at the physical contact. But Octavia waited; and Vinyl knew she needed to act. She needed something, anything! “How about ice cream?” she asked. “Everyone likes ice cream, right?”

“I do,” Octavia said. 

“Would you like to go and get ice cream with me? Like, tonight or something?”

Octavia smiled, and she seemed to relax a bit more from whatever weight she was carrying. “I most certainly would.”

As soon as Octavia stepped out the front door, Vinyl sunk to the floor and just stared at the ceiling. 

Glorious. 

A horrifying thought crossed her mind. She quickly lit her right hand and shot a stinging hex at her left wrist.

"Ow!"

Oh, good, she thought to herself as she shook her left hand. Not dreaming.

But as she lay there, something rather important occurred to her. Something vitally important; a question that she hadn't needed to ask herself in a long time but suddenly became quite relevant.

"What do you even wear on dates, anyway?"
> Ice Cream and Warm Hearts
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Later that night, Vinyl paced outside Octavia's apartment, fiddling with the buttons on her little blue vest. She'd arrived early, afraid she'd get distracted and somehow miss the time of their date. Lyra would have laughed, maybe cracked a joke about her peeping on Octavia, and told her to calm down; but Lyra wasn't there. She hadn't been there all day. She was probably eating chocolate with Bon Bon. Or maybe she was tied up and being held captive in a basement somewhere and Vinyl just hadn't received the ransom note yet. 

Suddenly, the door opened, interrupting these disturbing thoughts and making Vinyl jump. She spun around, calling her magic to her uplifted hand. 

Octavia raised an eyebrow playfully. “Surely I'm not that much of a threat,” she said, extending two fingers and gently sliding Vinyl's glowing hand out of the way. 

Vinyl blushed, and she dropped her hand and cancelled the magic. “No, no, you're not a threat,” she said. “Unless you tried killing with your looks, that is.” 

As soon as that left her mouth, Vinyl knew it was too late. That had come out so very, very wrong. She was very good at opening her mouth and saying stupid things. Quickly, Vinyl tried for damage control. “Because you’re really good looking.”

Octavia blinked.

Vinyl was even better at digging herself deeper. “That sounded much better in my head, I promise,” Vinyl managed to stammer.

Luckily, Octavia cracked a smile and chuckled. “You're sweet,” she said. “Shall we go?”

Vinyl tried to not show her relief. Crisis averted. “We shall.”



* * *



Vinyl paid, of course. She had ordered a mint chocolate chip in a cup, while Octavia had ordered a refined turtle ice cream in a waffle cone. They sat down against the wall on one of the higher tables, just like Vinyl liked it. She kindof liked being a bit elevated and able to see what was going on around her. 

Yet two bites in and she suddenly became much more interested with what was in front of her. Octavia had not picked up her spoon, but had instead elected to lick her ice cream. And lick, and lick. She rotated the cone and extended her tongue, making sure she got every last melting drop. 

Vinyl looked down into her cup and glared. She was doing that on purpose. 

But wait. Something suddenly occurred to Vinyl. If Octavia was doing it on purpose, that meant she didn't mind Vinyl watching. She looked up and watched as Octavia continued licking. 

As the licking continued, Vinyl clenched her legs together and was suddenly grateful she had decided to go with jeans instead of a skirt tonight. She cleared her throat. “So, music,” she started. Lame, yes; but she needed something to break herself free from the hypnotic actions of Octavia. 

“Indeed,” Octavia said. “Music is everywhere; you just have to be looking for it.”

“I like that mentality,” Vinyl agreed. “But I like music a lot, so… yeah.”

There was a pause. Dates like this could be awkward. This is why Vinyl never had much luck on… 

Wait. 

Something else occurred to Vinyl, but this thought was a little less pleasant. “This… is a date, right?” Vinyl asked for confirmation. 

“Of course,” Octavia said slowly. 

“So you're… you know…?” Vinyl was unable to bring herself to say the word. That one word that could validate all her fantasies and bring all her dreams one step closer to reality. She settled for tapping her knuckles together and hoping she understood the wordless motion.

Octavia's lips curled into a playful half-smile. “I wouldn't have agreed to come on a date with another mare if I were completely straight, Vinyl.”

Vinyl slowly exhaled. She hadn't realized she had been holding her breath as she had waited for her response. Of course, that then required another uncomfortable question. “Then does that mean you're… you know… cheating?” 

The playfulness of the smile faded; it grew wry and almost wistful. “Cheating would require there be a relationship in the first place. What my... 'significant other' and I have is more… convenient than anything else.”

“Then why are you still with… uh… that guy?” Vinyl just managed to avoid saying the insult that had sprung to mind. It wasn't right to appear too jealous. Even if he did get to be there every night when Octavia would do what every mare did and remove her bra to let herself breathe-

Vinyl quickly pinched herself on the thigh. It only somewhat worked, as the denim was relatively thick, but it helped refocus her a bit.

Octavia shrugged. “He was the first one to ask me out,” she said simply.

Vinyl frowned. Was it really that easy to get a girl? Just roll right up and ask? She couldn't help but feel oddly deceived. She stuck her spoon into the ice cream as though it were its fault that she couldn't work up the courage to just ask girls things.

Octavia shrugged as she continued. “He started out nice enough, and he liked music as well, and then it just became something that was there. I guess that's just how it's been for so long that I've never thought that much about it.”

Vinyl chewed on her plastic spoon. Girls were so complicated sometimes. 

And then it occurred to her that she was also a girl, and she was also plenty complicated herself; and she cracked up laughing. 

Octavia thought she was laughing at her, and narrowed an eye. “I don't suppose you have better relationships to talk about?”

Vinyl grinned sheepishly. “I've had one good relationship, and it must not have been that great because we broke up when we realized it wasn't right for either of us.”

“I'm sorry,” Octavia said softly.

“It was a mutual decision,” Vinyl said quickly. “Besides, we're still friends.”

Octavia smiled and took another lick of her ice cream. “You're a good person, Vinyl. I'm glad we met.”

That simple praise made Vinyl feel wonderfully light and a wide smile spread across her face. She didn't even mind when she dropped her ice cream and bit nothing but the plastic spoon.



* * *



Their ice cream eaten, Vinyl walked Octavia back to her apartment, even up all the stairs. It just seemed right. 

And it totally wasn’t because she let Octavia go first and got a front-row seat to view Octavia’s… well… hindquarters.

As they reached her door, they looked at each other. Vinyl licked her lips. Octavia smiled, waiting. There was a pause. Now, in movies, this would be the perfect opportunity to kiss her, or ask her for another date, or even ask her to marry her-

No. Too far, too quickly. Vinyl shook her head. Maybe she could do the second option. “We should do this again,” she said. 

“We should,” Octavia agreed. 

There was another pause, this one longer. Vinyl jammed her hands into her pockets, and Octavia twirled a piece of her hair around her fingers. 

Finally, Octavia stopped and withdrew her keys, looking oddly disappointed. “Well, good night, then…”

“Can I hug you?” Vinyl blurted. 

Octavia smiled and spread her arms. “You may.”

Vinyl wrapped her arms around Octavia and held her tightly. She could feel Octavia's warmth, she could feel her gentle breathing, and she really enjoyed feeling her much larger chest pressing against her own. Vinyl rested her head against Octavia's neck and just breathed as Octavia reached a hand up and rested it against Vinyl's hair. It was perfect. 

It wasn't until Octavia moved her hand slightly that it suddenly occurred to Vinyl that she had lost track of time. She jumped back, blushing. “I- I'm sorry, I don't know… I mean, I knew; but I didn't mean…”

Octavia giggled. “You're fine, Vinyl.” She opened her door, but turned back to give her another smile. “I enjoyed tonight.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

Octavia went inside her apartment, and Vinyl turned and walked away down the street. As soon as she thought she was out of sight of Octavia, she threw her back against the wall and groaned in defeat. She hit the back of her head against the brick repeatedly. Wow. She really was smooth, wasn't she? Octavia was probably creeped out, especially since that had only been their first date, and… 

And then it occurred to her that Octavia hadn't pulled away, and a slow smile spread across her face. 

She nearly skipped all the way home.



* * *



The club owner grinned as he counted out Vinyl's share, which was a lot larger than usual. “I gotta say, you were on fire out there!” he said emphatically. “I've never seen you so pumped! You had everyone dancing and this place was packed!”

DJ Pon-3 grinned as she pocketed the money. “What can I say? I was just in a really, really good mood tonight.”

“Well, whatever you did, I hope you do it again,” he said, clearly imagining his own larger stack of bits.

Vinyl cracked a smile. “Heh. Yeah. So do I.”

> Dates; Varying Degrees of Success
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	The sounds of the lyre stopped suddenly. “You’re doing what?” Lyra asked, surprised. 

“We're going bowling,” Vinyl repeated, slightly sheepishly 

Lyra blinked owlishly. “But... you suck at bowling,” she pointed out.

“I panicked, ok?” Vinyl protested. “I needed a date idea and it was the first thing that came to mind." She paused. "Also there was a bus driving by with a bowling alley ad on it.”

Lyra suppressed a chuckle. “I’m not saying it’s bad,” she said placatingly as she resumed playing. “It’s just…”

“It takes a miracle for me to break 35?” Vinyl supplied morosely.

Lyra plucked the wrong string. “M- y- yeah; but…”

“It’s really not showing off for the woman I love? Or, rather, I’m just showing off how much I suck at life in general.” Vinyl threw herself back on her bed and exhaled. "I fail!" she proclaimed loudly.

“Y- well… You have to look on the bright side, Vinyl,” Lyra said, setting her lyre down. “Bowling isn’t everything in life. Besides, she’ll feel good about herself after beating the heck out of you, right?”

Vinyl glared at the ceiling, but had to agree. In fact, if Octavia beat her badly enough, she might feel bad enough to give her a comforting hug…

“It’s settled!” she said, brightening. “We go bowling!”



* * *



Vinyl Scratch is one of those people who sometimes worries that she forgets things. However, as she had her money, her jacket, her house keys, and her pants on, she figured she was just being paranoid.

At least, until she got to where Octavia was waiting. She was wearing a nice jacket, a lovely blouse that hugged her frame but didn’t squeeze it… and a miniskirt that would be more than the tiniest bit restricting for bowling.

Vinyl slowed to a stop and winced. Oops. 

Octavia noticed and cocked her head. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

“Uh...” Vinyl said sheepishly. “I kind-of planned to go bowling, and that might not work with you in that skirt. But at least you don’t have to worry about your shoes?” Vinyl suggested hesitantly.

Octavia giggled. “I’m sure I’ll be fine,” she said.

Vinyl had a sudden mental image of Octavia bending over as she slid the ball down the lane, and ripping her skirt right up the back in the process, exposing her panty-covered buttocks. Vinyl couldn’t suppress a little lick of her teeth.

“Besides…” Octavia paused. “Are you all right?”

Vinyl shook her head. “Y- yeah,” she said. “I’m cool.”

Octavia nodded. “As I was saying, I’ll be fine. You told me where we were going earlier, remember?”

Vinyl blinked. Oh, yeah… 

“I planned to just put on my practice pants back on when we get there.”

“Practice pants? As opposed to… game pants?” Vinyl asked.

Octavia laughed, and Vinyl was reminded why she loved making this girl laugh. Her laugh was full, pure and crisp. “No, no; I just came from rehearsal and I have to wear pants.”

Vinyl glanced down at her outfit. “You mean you don’t dress like that all the time?” she asked.

Octavia giggled again. “Vinyl, the cello is played sitting down, with the body of the instrument resting between the legs,” she reminded her, hiding her smile behind her hand.

Vinyl almost facepalmed. Sitting in a skirt that tight would have given the audience a real show, so of necessity there would have been another option. She was just making herself look like a downright genius tonight, wasn't she? “Right. I knew that.”



* * *



It was blacklight bowling night at the bowling alley. Octavia slowed as they entered, slightly overwhelmed by the stimuli of the many flashing lights, loud noises, and bright neon colors.

Vinyl Scratch, on the other hand, had been dropped back into her home element. She lit the magic trails on her hands and forehead, instinctively pulsing them to the generic pop music playing, and her eyes easily adjusted to the chaos. She quickly weaved through the bodies and tables and people stumbling blindly along and bending over at the worst places to slide on their bowling shoes. Octavia, herself also attuned to the beat, noticed the pulsing patterns and wondered if this was a unicorn thing; but then realized she was about to be left behind. Octavia was a bit larger than her lithe companion, and she tried her best to follow along closely behind Vinyl. She ended up bumping a few more tables and shoulders than Vinyl did.

Vinyl quickly arrived at the counter and set her hands on top. “Hi, could I get a size ten and… Octi, what size do you wear?”

“Eleven and a half,” Octavia answered, breathing a bit harder at the effort needed to get through the crowd.

The pegasus attendant behind the counter grimaced, and the glowstick strings laced across her wings shook a bit. “We don’t have half-sizes, and it’ll be a three hour wait for a lane.”

Vinyl bit her upper lip. “Oh,” she said. She was fairly certain she couldn't hold Octavia's attention for three hours. She wasn't that interesting.

“Wait,” Octavia interrupted. “Three hours?”

The pegasus nodded.

“The hours posted on the door say you close in two and a half, though,” Octavia said.

The pegasus nodded again. “We do.”

“So regardless of what shoes you do or do not have, we’re not bowling tonight,” Octavia asked to confirm.

The pegasus thought about it for a moment, and then shook her head. “Nope.”

“That might have been nice to know at the start of that conversation,” Octavia observed dryly. “No matter.” She turned to Vinyl. “Plan B, then?” 

Right. Plan B. Plan B, which was… 

A drop of sweat dripped down the back of her neck, and it wasn't because it was hot due to how crowded the bodies were in the bowling alley. “Uh…”



* * *



You’re so stupid! Vinyl berated herself. A movie? Am I back in high school? She paused, and then mentally facepalmed. No… even in high school I was never good at dating. Ponyfeathers. 

History aside, they stood in a long line for a movie ticket. Vinyl tried hard to avoid looking at the couple in the corner sucking on each others’ faces. As much as she wouldn’t mind getting a little physical with Octavia, watching others going at it just made her uncomfortable.

But Octavia didn’t seem to notice. She gave no indication that she knew she was in a place that didn’t deserve her glorious presence, standing on a sticky red carpet that was only improved by her standing on it. She stood proudly, regally. Vinyl felt a mild twinge of jealousy.

As they neared the ticket office, Vinyl realized she hadn't decided which movie to go see. She turned to Octavia. “What do you want to see?” Vinyl asked.

Octavia smiled. “Surprise me.”

Vinyl grimaced. This was most unhelpful! "Uh..."

And then she was next in line. The pony behind the counter managed to look bored and yet in a hurry at the same time.

"Give me..." Vinyl looked around and her eyes caught on the first poster, "two tickets for Robo Action Pony 2," she said.

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she winced. Was this even one Octavia would enjoy? She didn't seem like the kind to enjoy gratuitous violence.

Wait. Would Vinyl enjoy it?

She couldn't meet Octavia's eyes as they walked to their theater. It was all over, really. If Octavia made any excuse to leave from now until the end of the film--or maybe even afterwards--she'd know she'd blown it completely.



* * *



Vinyl walked Octavia home this time. It would only be right, right? 

It didn't help that she was still reeling from the movie. Sure, the plot had been nonsensical and somewhat laughable, and the acting only average; but the fight scenes had been intense, and then there was that soundtrack! The pounding industrial soundtrack that had permeated the movie would almost guaranteed find its way into her next song.

Octavia led the way back to where she lived. This section of town was definitely brighter than the one Vinyl lived in. Octavia lived in a nice apartment, and Vinyl wasn't surprised. Her eyes flicked over the brick facade and iron handrails…

And then something warm pressed against her hand. 

Vinyl looked down and to her shock, Octavia was holding her hand as they climbed the stairs. She lived on the third floor, and kept her hand in Vinyl’s until they had climbed both flights and had arrived outside Octavia's apartment.

Octavia giggled as she released her hand to unlock her door. “I was going to try that during the movie, but you kept squirming. Maybe next time?”

Vinyl could only nod dumbly.

Octavia brushed her hand against Vinyl’s cheek. “Good night, Vinyl.” She winked as she closed the door behind her. 

Vinyl looked at her hand as she descended the stairs. This hand had touched Octavia’s hand. So if Vinyl touched her butt, it would be like Octavia was touching her butt.

Knowing full well that she probably looked ridiculous, Vinyl slid her hand into one of her rear pockets.

As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she had to. It was kindof nice. And it made her feel pretty good.

Vinyl removed her hand from her pocket and began jogging lightly as she headed for home. Lyra would be out for a long while tonight, right? Yeah, she was going to go see Bon Bon tonight. She’d definitely have time.



* * *



Vinyl Scratch lay on her back on her bed, on top of the sheets. Normally this would be a normal occurrence; but normally she was wearing pajamas, or clothing of some kind. 

And this time, she was not.

Her eyes were closed and she was lost in her fantasy as she moved her hands behind her head, exposing her body and her pale skin completely. “I know I’m not real curvy; but I’m all yours. I mean it, really… you can touch me anywhere you want, Octavia. Anywhere. I won't say no.”

“And if I were Octavia-”

Vinyl jumped nearly two feet into the air—a rather impressive accomplishment, seeing as how she had laying been on her back with her legs spread—and landed on the edge of her mattress. Unable to balance, her body continued rotating and she tumbled off face first onto the floor.

“-I would totally take you up on that offer,” Lyra finished.

“Geez!” Vinyl panted as her entire face grew bright red once again as she reached back and pulled the bedsheets off the bed to cover herself. “Don’t you ever knock?”

“This is my house, too,” Lyra retorted as she roughly took off her shirt. “And you need to shave.”

Vinyl hurriedly rolled over so her back was towards Lyra and quickly examined herself. She squinted. Sure, maybe she could have used a little touch-up here and there, especially around the edges; but surely she didn’t merit anything that harsh-

Oh.

Vinyl crawled back into bed and made sure she had covered herself completely before asking. “So, date didn’t go so well?”

Lyra finished pulling on her sweatpants. “Shut up.”

Vinyl winced. “Ok; I just…”

Lyra raised her hand and shot out a bolt of magic at the light switch in an attempt to turn it off; but in her frustration she put too much energy in the spell and instead sent a jolt of energy coursing through the wall so powerful it blew the light bulb up in a shower of sparks. 

Now sitting naked and in darkness, Vinyl coughed. This was mildly uncomfortable. “That bad?” she asked meekly.

Lyra sat down on her bed and sighed. “It was going so well, and then I… I went in for a kiss, there in the moonlight; and she sortof… side-stepped. Shut me right down. I barely got a hug from her at the very end.” 

Vinyl winced. Lyra’s primary love language was touch, and Vinyl could tell that this had deeply cut her. “Oh, Lyra…” she said.

“It’s fine,” Lyra said. “It was a nice hug.” At least, those were her words; but the way the pitch of her voice had increased by nearly an octave indicated that she did not think it was fine.

“That’s awful,” Vinyl said.

“But she let me try some of her new chocolates, stuff that they’re still testing and haven’t even started selling yet, so… I don’t even know what to think.” Lyra groaned and placed her face down on the pillow. “Dating is hard,” she said, her voice muffled by the pillow.

“I hear you there,” Vinyl murmured. “You want to grab some ice cream?”

Lyra snorted. “Maybe. If you put clothes on.” She took a deep breath and exhaled. “And I’m sorry about the shaving comment.”

“It’s fine,” Vinyl said, pushing herself up. “I’ll get it.”

And they ate their ice cream together by the light of their magic trails that night.
> Awkwardness; But It's Ok
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	DJ Pon-3 was never late. Sure, every once in a while she didn't show up at the time listed on the party invitations; but since the party didn't actually start until she got on stage, she was always technically on time.

Vinyl Scratch, on the other hand, was sometimes late for very important things. Currently, she was running late from a small afternoon Pon-3 gig to an early dinner with Octavia. She'd barely remembered to remove her tail and ears as she sprinted desperately for the bus stop, tying her hair back into the more conservative (but still fashionably messy) hairstyle she usually wore. Normally, she didn't do afternoon shows, but she would make exceptions for the right price. She was somewhat like a prostitute in that respect. 

Vinyl cracked up, the laughter somewhat dispelling the sense of doom she’d felt. 

However, the bus gods were not smiling on Vinyl. That good feeling quickly left as she realized that she had missed her bus, and therefore she would be late as she would have to wait for the next one. She bounced from foot to foot, desperately hoping that it would arrive soon. 

And, of course, it didn’t.



* * *



Now a good forty minutes late for her date, Vinyl sprinted, panting, towards the door. She lit her hand and pulled open the tinted door, and collided with another pony who happened to be walking out at exactly the same time. Vinyl was much smaller and was knocked right onto her back. She quickly sat up. “I'm sorry, I… Octavia?”

Indeed it was. She cracked a smile. “And here I thought you weren’t going to show up,” she said as she held out her hand and helped Vinyl to her feet. 

“No, I wouldn't never not show up for you, you know? I was just in a bit of a hurry and I lost track of time and then I missed the bus and I forgot I-” Vinyl froze, and continued staring straight ahead. “I… am wearing pants, right?”

Octavia giggled. “You are,” she confirmed. “Do you often record without them?”

Vinyl blushed. “N-no; I mean… I was just a little worried after I…” Vinyl's voice trailed off as her eyes drifted to her right shoulder. Her pupils shrunk to pinpricks. It became horrifyingly obvious that she while she had fixed her left cutie mark, she had forgotten to unmodify her right cutie mark from her gig earlier. 

“After you what?” Octavia asked. Her eyes followed Vinyl's, and she paused. She frowned slightly as her eyes flicked briefly across Vinyl's body to her other shoulder and then back again, silently comparing the two. 

Thankfully, from the front, the difference wasn't that noticeable. Vinyl quickly tugged her shirt sleeve lower and rested her hand over it. “Oh, you know, uh… lost track of time… composing. And remixing. Yeah. Music-y stuff.” When Octavia looked down, she lit her hand with a little blue magic, cleaning it off. She desperately hoped Octavia hadn't seen. 

Octavia's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, apparently sensing that she had missed something, but she didn't say anything. 

“So… I'll pay, 'cause I was late?” Vinyl tried. 

“You paid last time,” Octavia protested. “And I did invite you.”

This was true, and Vinyl had been very grateful. That being said, the cash in her pocket that she had just earned suddenly felt heavy, like it needed to be spent. “Yeah, but I still feel bad. I'll totally get you dessert, even.”

Octavia snorted a playful laugh. “Oh, well, if that's your offer, I see no reason not to forgive you.”

Vinyl exhaled in relief as she turned to reenter the restaurant. Crisis averted. 

Maybe. 



*  *  *



Early dinner had been a good idea. The restaurant was fairly empty, and their food was brought quickly. 

Vinyl watched as Octavia ate her pasta. It was quite refined, and Vinyl felt slightly self-conscious and she readjusted her grip on her fork. It was considered bad manners to use magic utensils while eating in the presence of non-unicorns, and since she lived with another unicorn, she was slightly out of practice using her hands and metal silverware to eat. She was fairly certain that their last fork was currently being used as a makeshift wire connector in her recording booth setup. Perhaps spaghetti hadn't been the wisest choice, even if it did have that delicious Alfredo sauce on it. Maybe she would just stick to eating the delicious, buttery breadsticks that the waiter kept bringing. 

Luckily, Octavia either didn't notice her stumbling, or she was too polite to bring it up, but Vinyl was sweating the whole time. She was also worried that Octavia wasn't enjoying herself, and worried that she was upset about nearly being stood up, but she didn't seem to be in a big hurry to leave or anything. 

Apparently, she realized that Vinyl was struggling, so she began making small talk. “Our new song is doing well,” she said.

“Yeah,” Vinyl said, happy for the out. “It's not as high up as the last one; but it's definitely lasted longer on the chart.”

Octavia chuckled lightly. “The music world is fickle, isn't it?”

“A little. Does it work like that for you, too?”

Octavia shrugged. “Some pieces do go in and out of fashion,” she said. “The Spring suite is always most popular in March…”

“But not this March?” Vinyl asked with a grin. This March, the pegasi had gone on strike… that is, ‘there were unexpected malfunctions with the weather machines’ and it had been cold.

Octavia cracked a half-smile and shook her head. “We played the Winter Snowstorm from the Hearth's Warming Play, and we didn't receive a single complaint.”

Vinyl nodded. It had been cold enough one night that Pon-3 had had to wear yoga pants under her cutoffs when she had walked to a gig. 

She had neglected, though, to do anything to pad her upper torso. More people than ever had asked for her picture that night, and Pon-3 had gladly obliged. 

Lyra had laughed; but Vinyl had held the substantial tips she'd earned that night over her ears and stuck her tongue out at her. 

“…but the Fifth symphony is usually a safe bet, as is the Third.”

Octavia continued like this for a while, and Vinyl was extremely grateful. It didn’t hurt that hearing about Octavia’s line of work legitimately interested her. She became so involved in the conversation that she didn't realize she had finished her food until her fork hit empty air. 

Octavia cracked a smile. “I take it you enjoyed it?”

Vinyl nodded. She didn't want this date to end. Thankfully, she had already promised to pay for dessert. She found the menu and lifted it. “Italians make good ice cream, right?” Vinyl asked. 

“It's usually called gelato, and yes,” Octavia confirmed. 

Vinyl scanned the dessert menu, looking for ice cream. Tiramisu? What, were they just making up words now? “How about a maiden's dream? We can split if you want.”

Octavia shrugged. “Sounds fine to me.”

More people had come in, so it took a bit longer for their server to come back. “Any dessert tonight?” he asked as he gathered the plates.

“Sure,” Vinyl said. “We’re going to try the maiden’s dream?”

The smile he cracked made Vinyl mildly uncomfortable; but it was gone before she could get a better look. She frowned as he left, but the frown melted as she looked back towards Octavia.

The waiter soon returned with their dessert, and Octavia's face took on a look of confusion as she watched him approach from behind Vinyl. Vinyl looked back, and it didn't take long for her to see why. 

The plate had two large scoops of ice cream, and a peeled banana between them. He set it down on the table with a gleeful chuckle and turned to leave. 

“Where's the spoon?” Vinyl asked. 

The waiter turned and winked, and walked away. 

Vinyl looked at Octavia, and Octavia looked at Vinyl, and then both burst out laughing. 

“I'm not sure what kind of maiden is having this dream,” Octavia laughed, “but I'd be afraid to see her others.”

“Yeah. This would be like my nightmare,” Vinyl pointed out. “I'm no good with this kind of thing. You might be, because you're… uh… I mean, I'm… but you're…” Vinyl suddenly felt incredibly awkward. She hated it when her mouth kept going when her brain wanted it to stop. 

Octavia merely watched with a smile playing at the edges of her lips. Apparently, she enjoyed watching Vinyl squirm.

Vinyl grinned sheepishly and held up her hand and flicked it, conjuring a translucent blue spoon at the edge of her fingertips. “Shall we eat?” she said. 

Octavia watched as Vinyl scooped some ice cream up. “I don't suppose you can make me one?”

Vinyl winced. She could only handle one construct at a time; most of the spells she’d practiced were light and pyrotechnic spells. “Well, no; but I could…”

Vinyl nearly lost her concentration as Octavia leaned forward and took the bite right off her magical spoon. She smiled at Vinyl. “I'm sure we'll manage,” she said. 

Vinyl felt her heart begin to race as she scooped up another bit and held it out for Octavia, who extended her tongue and took it off her spoon. 

Best. Date. Ever. 
> Lyra's Turn
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	From her position lounging face down on the couch, Vinyl heard the door open, and she began to speak as she pushed herself up onto all fours. “So I may or may not have accidentally revealed my biggest secret to Octavia on our date,” she started, “but it was totally worth…”

She never finished her sentence. Lyra walked into the living room, sniffling slightly. Tearstains trailed down her cheeks; it was obvious that she had been crying. 

Vinyl sat up. “Protocol seventeen?” she asked. 

Lyra nodded. 

Vinyl pumped a fist into the air. “Woot! Protocol seventeen!”

Lyra looked at Vinyl, hurt etched on her face. “How is that a good thing?” she demanded. 

“It's a protocol seventeen I didn't initiate. Come on, you know that's good!”

The fact that Lyra didn't even crack a smile at that made Vinyl quite literally sprint for the ice cream. 

This was mildly hindered by the fact that Vinyl had removed her shoes but not her socks in her quest for lazy comfort, and she slid on the kitchen floor and almost faceplanted on the counter. Still, she managed to stay upright and only hit her hand against one drawer, and there wasn’t any blood anyway so she was fine.

It took almost three bowls before Lyra could bring herself to speak. “I figured it out,” she said dully. “Why Bon Bon was so receptive but aloof at the same time.”

“Why?”

Lyra took another bite before answering. “It just so happens that she recently came off a bad breakup.”

Vinyl winced. 

“Oh, it gets better,” Lyra continued. “Turns out her last marefriend? Actually a colt with an affinity for crossdressing.”

Vinyl nearly choked on her ice cream. “How do you not notice something like that? I mean, their stuff is just, like, there, like all outside and weird and stuff.” She held up a hand. “Can I hear it for indoor plumbing?”

Lyra gave a half smile and halfheartedly returned the high five. “Yeah, well, they'd had sex and everything—in the dark, of course—and when she came home early to surprise her, well; she was a he and he was jacking off in her shower. She kicked him out, still butt naked, and she's never recovered.”

“I'm not surprised. Talk about betrayal.” Vinyl served herself some more. “So what'd you do, let her feel you up there in the shop?”

“I did one better. I took her to the bathroom and stripped for her.”

“You didn't,” Vinyl said. Her tone was inviting her to continue, but internally she was shocked. Lyra had a strange double standard about revealing her body. Her breasts were relatively fair game; but Vinyl could count on one hand the number of ponies who had seen Lyra's genitals, and two of those were Vinyl herself and Lyra's mom. 

“I did,” Lyra said, halfheartedly shoving another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. “Took her into the handicapped stall and stripped. 'Hey,' I said, 'it's me and I'm a hundred percent mare, and you can look and touch anything you want to prove it'.”

“How'd she respond?”

“She wanted to,” Lyra started. She paused, staring at her spoon as if it were holding the answers she sought. “I think she wanted to.” Her voice grew quiet. “I hope she wanted to.”

“But...?” Vinyl prompted. 

“She kindof did this half reach with her hand, and then she dropped it and said, 'I can't, I can't'; and she turned and sprinted out.”

Vinyl winced. Lyra must have taken that really hard. Offering her greatest treasure, only to be rejected. That must have cut her deeply.

“So there I was, standing butt naked in the bathroom, trying my hardest not to cry, and then I hear a little girl going in there and then she goes, 'Mommy, there's a girl standing to pee in there!'”

Vinyl couldn't suppress a giggle, and Lyra finally cracked a smile. 

“Kids, right? So I kindof slid over to the toilet, hope they thought I was wearing a dress I'd just pulled up or something. I just…” She sighed. “I just really thought she was the one.”

Vinyl sat up. “You mean you're going to give up on her?” she asked incredulously. 

Lyra dug her magically constructed spoon around in the melted dregs of her bowl. “Well, she said no in kindof a big way, and…”

“She had her heart broken,” Vinyl pointed out. “She's scared. And when you stripped for her, she got scared even more.”

“Why?”

“Because it could work! I mean, no offense, but you look really good naked.”

Lyra shrugged slightly as she looked down, but her cheeks did color the tiniest bit and Vinyl could tell she appreciated the compliment. 

“I'd bet she's never had a good relationship,” Vinyl continued. “And with you, she could. You're everything she wants. You like her chocolate, you accept her past, and you've got the equipment she likes. And that scares her.”

Lyra raised an eyebrow. “I find it strange that you of all ponies are giving me love advice.”

Vinyl pointedly ignored this. “Just go to her shop tomorrow, and apologize.”

Caught off guard by this suggestion, Lyra's concentration wavered, and her constructed spoon flickered. “What?”

“Hear me out. Apologize. Say you're sorry you took it so fast, and you'd be willing to go at her pace. Fifty bits says next time you strip for her, she won't be able to keep her hands off you.”

Lyra gave a half-smile as she took another bite. “I really hope you're right.”

Vinyl grinned as she lifted another bite. “Me too; or else I'm out fifty bits.”

Lyra's smile looked a bit more real this time.



* * *



Lyra took a deep breath, steeling herself. Part of her knew she needed to go in, but another part was doubting her wisdom in taking love advice from Vinyl, who had seen it mentioned in a movie once (and then had firmly believed thereafter) that if you kissed someone, you had to marry them; and then had subsequently struggled to comprehend how actors, who kissed many others during their movies, knew exactly who they were to marry. 

She exhaled and looked back inside through the glass. Bon Bon stood there behind the register, smiling as she helped another customer with their purchase. She had the sweetest smile. Sure, her personality could be a bit abrasive when other people annoyed her; but deep down she was just a big softie, especially when Lyra was around. She took another shaky breath. Part of her really hoped it would work out, part of her worried it wouldn't. 

And part of her was wondering just how much longer she could stall this meeting before mall security showed up. She was pretty sure that nerdy-looking one with the glasses had a crush on her, and she had no desire to arrange their meeting. 

Finally, she grit her teeth and walked in. Bon Bon was behind the counter (of course she was; Lyra had just checked). Bon Bon looked up and paused. An unreadable expression settled on her face. 

“Hi, Bonsie,” Lyra said, subconsciously bringing one hand across her body and grabbing her opposite wrist. 

Bon Bon shifted nervously, holding onto the sides of the cash register as if hiding behind it. “Hi, Lyra.”

Lyra looked down and then just let it tumble out. “Look, about last time… I took it a little fast, and I'm sorry.”

Bon Bon shook her head. “No, I'm sorry,” she insisted. “I just… needed time to think.”

“To think?”

Bon Bon sighed. “Lyra, I've never had a good relationship before. I got scared. You're… you're perfect. You're too good to be true. It just couldn't be true, I thought. There had to be something else that was wrong.” Bon Bon took a steadying breath. “And then you took off your clothes for me. I was just stunned at how amazing you look. I know mares that would kill for your body. Hey, I'd kill for your body. I’d love to…” Her eyes flickered across Lyra's body before landing on the counter, and she licked her lips.

A slow smile spread across Lyra's face. She'd liked it! She'd really liked it! A surge of confidence coursed through her body, and she subconsciously straightened up, dropped her hands to her sides, and thrust her chest out just a little bit. 

Still looking down, she exhaled, and then looked up into Lyra’s eyes. Bon Bon continued. “You were perfect and I… I got scared. Because you not actually being a mare was the last thing I could think of that could be wrong and when I saw that it wasn't—and that you are absolutely beautiful, I might add—I panicked.”

“Don't panic,” Lyra said, as comfortingly as she could. “I'm pretty scared, too. I've never really done this before. Like, have a relationship, I mean. But if I'm with you, I feel… I feel like we can do it.” Lyra paused, realizing that that might have come out wrong. “And by that I mean make our relationship work, not having sex; though I would be opposed to neither.”

Bon Bon cracked a smile. “Well, when you put it that way… Ok. I'm willing to try if you are.”

Lyra's heart began to race. “So, you want to… I dunno… come to dinner with me? On Friday? Maybe afterwards we can, you know, spend some time together, alone? What do you say?”

Bon Bon blinked flatly. “Ma'am, I am working, and your preposition is most inappropriate and unprofessional.”

Lyra's jaw dropped. “But…” she stammered.

Bon Bon's eyes flicked over to behind Lyra before continuing. “If you have any questions pertaining to our products, which actually are for sale, I would be happy to answer them.”

Lyra glanced over to see one of Bon Bon's less-friendly managers standing by, her arms folded and glaring slightly. She gave a nervous chuckle and turned back to Bon Bon. “I mean… I said, four of your white chocolate truffles, please.” She gave what she hoped passed for a disarming smile.

Bon Bon nodded as she scooped them up and rang up Lyra's purchase. As soon as she had paid, Lyra quickly left the store. She didn't want Bon Bon to get in any trouble because of her, and Bon Bon had confided that that particular manager had had it out for her since day one. 

When she was out of sight of the sweet shop, Lyra slowed to a stop and sat down on a nearby bench. As long as she had bought these, she might as well enjoy them, right? She frowned as she counted her truffles, and then quickly double-checked her receipt. Then a smile slowly spread across her face.

Bon Bon had given her an extra truffle. 

Lyra squeed excitedly and did a little dance in place. Looks like date night is still on, after all!

> Ghosts From The Past
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Octavia knocked on the studio door and then pushed it open. “Knock, knock,” she said. 

Vinyl turned around in her chair to face the door. “Hi, Octavia,” she said. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Octavia's eyes widened slightly as she saw her. “Vinyl, you are aware that you are stark naked, right?”

Vinyl shrugged, apparently completely unconcerned about the show she was putting on. “Yeah. Our a/c went out last night, so this is how I'm coping.”

Octavia waved a hand disarmingly. “Oh, no need to apologize. I must say, that’s a good look on you. But now, I feel a bit overdressed. And we can't have that, now, can we?” She slowly brought a hand up and began unbuttoning her blouse. 

Vinyl watched in fascination as Octavia slowly unbuttoned her shirt and exposed her body. Her eyes widened slightly. “You don't wear a bra to record?”

“They were all dirty,” Octavia shrugged as her shirt fell to the floor. Her belt came undone next, followed by her skirt. Vinyl took in her gray panties emblazoned with her purple cutie mark. 

Octavia noticed she was staring, and moved closer. “I suppose it goes without saying that you like what you see?”

“Oh yes,” Vinyl breathed. 

Octavia straightened up and clasped her hands behind her back, both getting them out of the way and pressing her chest out even further. “You can take off my panties if you'd like,” she offered. 

Vinyl was so excited she… oh, no! No! Not now! Not yet! Not-!

Vinyl grit her teeth and groaned in frustration as her body hit its peak, very much against her will. When she'd finished shaking, she lay back on her bed, panting. Her fantasy was gone now, likely to never return. She felt disappointed (and somewhat betrayed by her own body) that she hadn't made it to the end. Maybe next time. 

I have got to see her again, she mused as she used her magic to pick her pants back up from off the floor. But what kind of excuse could I use?

It never crossed Vinyl's mind that Octavia might want to see her just to see her. 

She tried to brainstorm ideas as she washed her hands. Octavia, mare, bisexual; loved music and performing, instrument of choice a cello, but proficient in all string instruments; born… 

Wait. 

She left the water running as she sprinted over and checked the calendar. Her eyes widened. “Holy cats! That's today!”



*  *  *



Octavia looked up at the knock in the door. She squinted. There was no way he'd remember... She quickly opened the door and her eyes widened. 

Vinyl Scratch stood there, smiling widely. “Happy birthday!” she proclaimed. She lifted her hands, revealing that she held a German chocolate cake in her magic beside her. 

Octavia laughed. “Thank you! Come in! How did you know?” 

“Uh...” Vinyl tried to remember where she'd seen that. Where had she seen that? She didn't want to sound like an obsessed stalker. “Biography on your fifth cd?” she guessed. 

Octavia nodded. “Oh. Right. The release date was my birthday. My agent thought she was so clever with that one. And the cake?”

“Cover art on your fourth cd.” Vinyl grinned sheepishly. “I have them all.” That wasn't creepy, right? DJ Pon-3 had fans who framed all her singles and she didn't find that creepy. 

The guy who had wanted to catch her sweat on a signed poster of her, though. That had been creepy. 

Octavia chuckled lightly. “That one was a prop; I actually don't care much for German chocolate cake,” she admitted. 

“Y- you don't?” Vinyl said, feeling slightly distraught (and somewhat lied to). 

Octavia shook her head. “My heritage aside, the coconut flakes get stuck in my teeth,” she admitted.

“Oh…” Vinyl bit her lower lip and set the cake down on the counter. “Well, I… uh…”

“I appreciate the thought, though.” Her voice took a slightly darker tone. “He didn't even remember at all.”

Vinyl knew instantly who she was referring to. “Oh, now that's just not right,” she said angrily. Righteous indignation coursed through her veins. “I'll tell you what. If he doesn't do something nice for you tonight, I'll take you out to dinner myself. Anywhere you want.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Anywhere. Just come by at seven or so if nothing happens. You remember where I live.”

“I believe that can be arranged,” Octavia said with a genuine smile. 



*  *  *



Vinyl tugged at her shirt collar. It had been a heat of the moment thing when she'd offered to take Octavia out; the words had just tumbled out and now that seven pm was nearing, she was getting increasingly nervous at the idea of actually following through on what she'd said. She'd dressed up nearly an hour before at six, and she was now pacing around the house nervously. You don't just abandon a beautiful mare like Octavia. It was more than likely that she had managed to find a date, or something else important or fun to do, and Vinyl had gotten herself all dressed up for nothing. 

She took another drink of water, her current method of calming herself. Her fingernails had already been pretty much worked over, she had chewed the skin on the tip of her right pinky down to where it kindof tasted like baby carrots, and she had run out of mints to crunch instead. 

Then again, there was a chance that she wouldn't, though, and there Vinyl would step in. She took another drink. Would Octavia find it offensive that she had paid for all of their dates to date? She could ask her to pay tonight- No. Vinyl shook her head. Not on her birthday. Vinyl would have to pay. No, she'd willingly pay. 

But would that count as a present? Vinyl gasped as she realized she hadn't gotten Octavia anything, except for that cake earlier. Vinyl had just started to wonder how it would play out if her present was taking off her shirt for her when the doorbell rang. She sprinted back to the door and there stood Octavia. 

“Octavia!”

Octavia smiled. She had on a lovely evening dress, and Vinyl felt a spark of relief that she hadn't been overdressed. “Hello, Vinyl,” she said. 

“So, nothing tonight?” Vinyl said. 

“No.” She sighed. “To be perfectly honest, I'm not sure what else I expected.”

Vinyl held out her arm. “Then allow me to escort you tonight, fair abandoned maiden,” she said. 

Octavia giggled, and she placed her arm around Vinyl's. “Why, thank you,” she said. 



*  *  *



Vinyl grinned appreciatively as she swirled the ice cubes in her glass. “All-you-can-eat sushi, huh?” she asked, looking up from the order form. “Not quite what I would have expected.”

To Vinyl's surprise, Octavia blushed slightly as she marked her choices. “Yes, well… my father would bring me to places like this after my performances to celebrate. Mother liked to emphasize healthy eating for me; Father would tell her to shove it. But never to her face, of course; and never in those exact words.”

Vinyl cracked a smile. “Of course.”

“Instead, we'd come to places like this and gorge ourselves whenever she was out of town. It was our little secret.” It was Octavia's turn to smile wryly. “They would try and play me against each other. There was much they did not agree upon.”

“Do they still fight?” Vinyl asked. This opened up a whole new fear, that she would need to meet Octavia's parents. She brought her straw to her mouth and took another drink to distract herself as she considered this. She was not looking forward to that. She really wasn’t that great at handling conflict. Especially since she and her own mother didn’t get along that well. If she couldn't even get along with her own mother, how was she supposed to get along with someone else's?

“No; they seem to have put aside their differences now that they're both laying next to each other in the graveyard at St. Ninian's.”

Vinyl flinched and choked on her water. When she recovered, she said, “Oh. I'm sorry, I didn't know… and this time I really didn't…”

Octavia rested a hand on her shoulder. “It's ok,” she said. “It's been a good seven years since the train accident. Besides, I'm a big mare; I can take care of myself.”

At 'big mare', Vinyl's eyes briefly flicked down to Octavia's chest, but she managed to bring them back up before she noticed. Something suddenly occurred to her. “Was it about the time of your second cd?” she asked. 

Octavia raised an eyebrow and withdrew her hand. “Yes,” she said slowly. “Why?” 

Vinyl smiled. “That's the cd that got me interested in your music. I could just feel the emotion you put in your music, and I could feel your pain through the music. I was so impressed that I've been following you ever since.” She paused, and then reddened to about the shade of the tablecloth as she realized that she had probably just insinuated that the deaths of Octavia's parents had been a good thing. 

Luckily for Vinyl, the waiter returned to take their orders, providing a convenient diversion. 

They had ordered some spring rolls for appetizers, and these quickly arrived. Vinyl also got her glass of water refilled. “So how are your ensemblemates doing?” she asked as she started on this new one. 

Octavia chuckled as she expertly manipulated her chopsticks and picked up a spring roll. “That's not a real word, Vinyl.”

“It should be,” Vinyl insisted as she struggled with her own set of chopsticks. “What else do you call them?”

“Well, Fredrick has tried to get us to call him the Grand Pianomaster; but that has never really caught on, for obvious reasons.”

Vinyl cracked a smile which turned into more of a frown as she dropped her spring roll for what must have been the fifth time. 

But before she gave in to her frustration and just magically constructed a fork, she froze; Octavia had reached over and placed her hand on hers, adjusting the chopsticks. Her fingers gently manipulated Vinyl's into the proper position. 

“Now try,” she said. “Use your index finger to move the top one; the bottom one stays in place.”

Vinyl tried this. She managed to pick one up and carry it halfway to her mouth… and then it slipped and fell to the table. Octavia smiled encouragingly, so Vinyl tried again. When she obtained the same result for the fourth time, though, she'd had enough. Scowling, Vinyl dropped her chopsticks, lit her hand, and just tossed the spring roll into her mouth with magic. 

Octavia giggled, and Vinyl blushed again. It wasn’t exactly good manners to use magic around people who couldn’t.

And then Octavia opened her mouth invitingly. Vinyl’s heart raced as she realized that she wanted her to give her one, too. Blushing furiously, she lit her hand again and gently tossed another one over. Octavia caught it and cracked a smile while keeping her mouth closed. She politely chewed and swallowed before explaining. “My father used to do that; throw his food as if he were a hibachi chef. He thought he was pretty funny.”

Vinyl chuckled, relieved… and also with a feeling of something welling up inside her. She wanted Octavia more than ever now. 

It was then that Vinyl realized her nervous habit of drinking water had come back to bite her when she was suddenly seized with an urgent need to go to the bathroom. This was also followed by the awful realization that there's no real classy way to excuse yourself to the bathroom. To distract herself, she did the first thing that came to mind: take another drink of water. 

The irony of this made her giggle. 

Octavia tilted her head, wordlessly asking for clarification. 

“Nothing,” Vinyl said too quickly. “I just really have to pee.”

Octavia raised an eyebrow. “And you find that amusing?”

“N- no,” Vinyl said, taking another drink of water to buy herself time to think of a good answer before pausing and cracking a smile again. It was a vicious cycle of failure, really, that’s all it was. 

This time Octavia understood, and she giggled, hiding her mouth behind her hand. “I assume you don't need a chaperone?”

“Nah,” Vinyl said, getting up. Maybe she could curl up into a corner and die of embarrassment in the corner stall of the bathroom, away from everyone else. That was a good plan. “Forget I said anything.”

“I will. Come back soon,” Octavia said with a wink. 

Vinyl left as quickly as she could. 

Octavia smiled as she settled down into her seat and watched her walk away. Admittedly, this birthday hadn't started out very well; but Vinyl was doing more than her part to make it good. She made a sincere effort. Sure, she was clumsy and awkward, and maybe a bit tactless at times; but she was honest and she made an effort. She cared about Octavia and thought about her happiness, and if her constant eye glances were any indication, she was a big fan of Octavia's body. And it didn't hurt that she was also a musician who loved her craft and was, in a word, adorable. She was smaller but not too petite, and still feminine, with soft curves and those brilliantly-colored eyes… She was definitely someone Octavia could see spending the rest of her life with. 

Octavia took a drink of her soft drink as she began to plan a certain break-up speech for the next time she met up with a certain stallion. 

The only problem with that is, sometimes the phrase 'speak of disharmony and it shall appear' is not just a saying. 

“There you are.”

Octavia swallowed what she had in her mouth and set her glass down without looking at her soon-to-be-ex-coltfriend. “Took you long enough to notice I was missing,” Octavia said coolly. “I don't know if I'm more impressed that you actually looked for me, or that you remembered where my favorite place was.” 

He finally noticed the second plate. “Oh, you whore; you're cheating on me, aren't you?” he accused. 

“I'm breaking up with you.” Octavia's voice was as hard as steel. “We're through. Vinyl actually cares, and remembers important events like, oh, I don't know…” Her eyes narrowed. “My concerts and my birthday.”

“I'm not losing you.”

“Oh, it is far too late for that,” Octavia said with the tiniest hint of a smirk. 

“Is it? Come with me, or I'll develop those pictures I took last winter.”

Octavia felt a cold chill run up her spine. “Which pictures?” she asked innocently. 

“Oh, you remember... The ones from your private show at my parents' cabin?”

“I thought you said you were going to destroy those,” Octavia said through clenched teeth. 

“I say a lot of things,” he grinned. “So do you. You said you love me.”

“I do,” Octavia said, tensing ever so slightly. “Did,” she corrected quietly. 

“Do,” he corrected angrily. 

“I'm not going to lie,” Octavia said loftily. “I haven't felt anything from you or towards you in a long time. I'd say nearly five months, really.”

He scowled, but managed to remain in control of his voice. “That's too bad. Now, either feel like getting up and coming with me, or the whole world will know what you felt like showing me.”

Octavia ground her teeth together, but she could see no alternative. If those pictures got out, her career would be over. Her face burning brightly from suppressed rage and embarrassment, Octavia stood up and followed him out. 



*  *  *



Vinyl returned as quickly as she could. “Heh, yeah, sorry about that… Hey, have you tried the soap in there? It's this grainy, powdery kind, and you push the bottom thing up and it comes out. Smells really good…” 

Her voice trailed off when she realized that the booth was empty. 

Vinyl slowly sat back in her seat. “She left,” she whispered in disbelief. “Sh- she left me.”

She turned to the waiter, who had walked up behind her. “Where did she go?”

“She left with another guy with a music cutie mark.”

Vinyl bit her lower lip. “What did he look like?”

Her teeth sank deeper into her lip as she heard the description. That guy sounded all too familiar. She lowered her head to the table and exhaled. Silent sobs shook her body.

“Should I ask the kitchen to cancel your order?” the waiter asked tactfully. 

“Yeah,” Vinyl said numbly, reaching for her spoon and grabbing her chopstick instead. “And bring me a big thing of ice cream.” Who was she kidding? She'd never had a chance with her. Not with someone like Octavia.

“We don't actually serve ice cream,” he admitted.

Vinyl exhaled even more deeply and lay still. 



*  *  *



Vinyl opened the door to her apartment and trudged in. She paused long enough to half-heartedly pull the door shut with her foot and then continued walking. 

Lyra grinned widely at the sound of her roommate entering. She lit her hand and flicked over a small bag full of shiny bits. “Here,” she said. “Fifty bits, just like we said.”

Vinyl didn't even raise her hand to catch them; instead, she numbly let them bounce off her stomach. She didn't flinch or even slow down as she continued walking. 

Lyra paused. “Vinyl?” 

Vinyl didn't even stop walking as she headed to bed. She climbed in and mechanically pulled the covers over her face, without even bothering to take off her shoes. 

“…Vinyl?”
	
> Recovery and Success
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


Sitting in her wheelie chair in front of her workstation, Vinyl slid over and adjusted one of her levels. “I told you, Lyra, I'm fine.”

“That’s not true, Vinyl,” Lyra accused gently. That particular knob hadn't needed adjusting; it was connected to the second set of headphones. “You've thrown yourself into your work, but it's not working. Even I can tell that. You're not… frosty enough.”

“Frosty,” Vinyl repeated. 

“Yeah,” Lyra said, struggling to find another way to convey her feelings. “It's… it's ok. I mean, it's musically sound, and it’s definitely going to be a hit; but it's not you. You're not… frosty enough. Whatever editing you're doing now, you're probably going to undo later.”

“I didn't ask for your opinion,” Vinyl grumbled.

“You didn't need to. It's what friends do.”

“Do friends also leave their friends alone so as to let those friends work?” Vinyl asked pointedly. 

Lyra exhaled, knowing that she would have had better luck arguing with a brick wall than getting through to Vinyl when she was like this. Thankfully, she was spared having to think up a proper response when there came a knock on the door. Vinyl didn't move, so Lyra left to answer it. 

She opened the door and paused, looking suspiciously at the woman on the other side. 

“Good morning,” Octavia said with just a hint of hesitation. “Is Vinyl here?”

“Let me see,” Lyra said, turning back inside. She made no indication that Octavia should enter, and Octavia didn't try.

Octavia shuffled nervously as she could hear the whispered, heated conversation. Vinyl was protesting angrily and seemed to be very upset, and she cringed. This was not the way to maintain a relationship, and it was all her fault. 

Finally, Lyra had had enough; Vinyl came flying out of the bedroom with her pants wrapped in a light green aura, and as she crashed into the floor Lyra slammed the door shut behind her. Vinyl stood up and pounded on the door a couple times, but Lyra held it shut. In fact, from the scraping coming from behind the door, it seemed as though she were dragging a bed or some other heavy piece of furniture in front of it. Vinyl finally gave up, muttered a few words under her breath at the closed door, and then turned to face Octavia as if just now noticing her presence. “Oh. It's you.”

Octavia swallowed. She felt legitimately hurt at Vinyl's flat, emotionless response, but she really couldn't blame the unicorn for that reaction. Still, she soldiered on. “I assume you're wondering about what happened at the restaurant, when I… left.”

“It had crossed my mind once or twice, yeah,” Vinyl deadpanned. “Happy birthday, by the way; not sure if I got to say that before you ditched me.”

Octavia didn’t rise to the bait. “I had an… incident. One I was not quite prepared for.”

“What was it? Oh. Oh.” Vinyl's eyes drifted to Octavia's crotch, and her eyes widened as her voice dropped to a whisper. “Was it… that time of the month?” Could it be? Was it all just a misunderstanding?

“It is something I'd rather not talk about,” Octavia said tactfully. 

Vinyl flinched slightly as Octavia gently picked up her hand and gave it a small squeeze. “I did appreciate your kind offer, though, and would happily accept a rescheduled date.”

“With me?” Vinyl asked stupidly. 

Octavia cracked a smile and nodded. “And this one I'll pay for,” she said. “You're a wonderful mare, Vinyl. I'm not about to let you go that easily.”

A slow smile spread across Vinyl's face. “Yeah, I'd love to!”

“How about tonight, then?” Octavia offered.

“Perfect!” Vinyl said, feeling her heart start pounding in her chest. “What time?”

“Earlier is better,” Octavia said. “I have rehearsal tonight.”

“Great!” Vinyl said. DJ Pon-3 had a gig tonight, too, and maybe it was best that she and Octavia didn't meet just yet. “So, like, three thirty?”

“That works fine. Meet me at the corner of Fifth and State?”

Vinyl couldn't think of where that was right off hand, but she nodded. “Not a problem. See you then.”

“Until then, Vinyl,” Octavia said with a smile and a little wave. 

Vinyl gleefully watched her leave and as soon as she shut the door, she fist-pumped and began to do a celebratory dance. 

Lyra poked her head out. “Sounds like a good thing happened,” she said with a knowing smile. 

Vinyl laughed. “Oh, yeah! I got a date tonight!”

As happy as Lyra was that Vinyl had begun looking human again, she did have a concern. “You have a gig tonight, too, though,” Lyra pointed out. “You don't want to cut it too close.”

“It's cool,” Vinyl shrugged. “I'll just head over there and leave my records there now and use them later. They’ve got lockers and such for the workers.”

“Well, if you've got a plan, definitely go for it.” Lyra waggled her eyebrows. “And see if you can get a kiss tonight.”

Vinyl smiled wryly. “I'm not sure that's gonna happen. I'd love a kiss, but that might be a bit too fast. Octavia is a very refined mare, you know.”

Lyra made a show of drinking tea with her pinky outstretched. “Indeed, don't you know,” she said in what was probably the worst Canterlot accent Vinyl had ever heard. “We Canterlo-tians must be so refined and stuffy and such, with sticks wedged so deep inside our posteriors-”

Vinyl threw her pencil at Lyra, who laughed and deflected it with a simple telekinetic wave. It was good to have Vinyl back. 



*  *  *



Vinyl gritted her teeth in concentration. She had to catch up to Octavia. She just had to! She swung lightly and tapped the red golf ball. Gently it rolled and curved around… and then rolled right off the bridge and dropped straight into the water. 

Octavia giggled as Vinyl once again threw her head back and growled her displeasure to the skies. 

“Ugh!” she groused, making as though she were going to break her club over one of the metal guardrails. “Why are you so good at this?”

Octavia shrugged demurely. 

“I just think it's funny,” Vinyl said as she reached out her hand and magically retrieved her ball by flicking it back up to her hand and catching it. She had done that far too often for her liking tonight, and had gotten quite good at it by now. “You're so refined, but we're doing this like we’re poor college students or something.”

Octavia cracked a smile. “I'm a regular mare, Vinyl,” she repeated. “I like regular things and I do all the things normal girls do. I like getting my nails painted. I like to be brought flowers. I like eating doughnuts and I worry about my weight.”

“You shouldn't. You're sexy.” Vinyl froze and then blushed as red as her golf ball as she realized that she'd mixed it up and said her inside words outside again. She almost didn't dare to even look at Octavia's reaction. 

Octavia laughed and gave Vinyl a side-hug, her hand feeling comfortable against Vinyl's waist. “You're so sweet, Vinyl.” Her eyes narrowed playfully. “But I'm a femme fatale, Vinyl. I’m unpredictable. Playing with me is like playing with fire.”

“Maybe I like fire,” Vinyl returned, poking Octavia in the ribs. 

Octavia laughed and stepped up to the tee on the next hole. “Beware, or you'll get burned,” she said as she almost lazily tapped the ball. It sailed down the green, right under the windmill, around the barrier, and fell straight into the hole. She turned to Vinyl and grinned. “That makes four holes-in-one, correct?”

Vinyl straightened her shoulders and set her own ball down. “Yeah, but I'll catch up. Just you wait and see.” She adjusted her feet, adjusted her grip, straightened her arms, shook her backside (all the professionals did this without fail), and swung. 

The ball began to fly forward with quite a bit of power behind it. Instead of rolling gently down the ramp, it took off, bouncing off an obstacle and sailing through the air into the area of another hole. Or, to be more specific… 

“My leg!”

…the person playing the hole. 

Vinyl chuckled sheepishly and hid her club behind her back. “Heh heh… fore?”



*  *  *



Vinyl was most definitely losing, but for some odd reason, she didn't mind. Just being with Octavia made everything seem so much better. 

And the fact that Octavia, who did not have magic, had to physically bend over to place her ball in position on every hole certainly didn't hurt. 

They were on hole seventeen when Octavia froze and looked at the clock that formed part of the saloon-shaped obstacle. “That's not the real time, is it?”

Vinyl checked the sun, but it was too low for her to do much but guesstimate. And her guesstimation wasn't good. She held her hand out flat, palm facing up, and cast two quick spells, one of the first combinations taught to unicorns in school. One was to find north, and the other was to create a small, vertical blue shaft right in the middle of her hand, which she combined to form a rudimentary sundial.

“Looks like it,” she said sadly, dropping her hand. 

Octavia looked at the clock, then back at Vinyl. She kneaded the handle of the club, clearly torn between abruptly abandoning Vinyl and making her rehearsal or finishing what had started out as a lovely evening. 

Music won out. “I'm so sorry, but I have to go to rehearsal. I'd invite you, but it's a closed rehearsal today, new songs and all. I have to rush home and change, but thank you for coming with me tonight.”

“We should do this again,” Vinyl said quickly. “How's next Friday?”

“Friday's great,” Octavia said hurriedly. “Actually, make it this Sunday, day after tomorrow. Awards ceremony, I’ve got. I’ll pick you up. Dress nice. See you then.”

Before Vinyl could respond, Octavia kissed her on the cheek and began running. Vinyl could only watch dumbly as Octavia sprinted away. She slowly brought a hand to her cheek and giggled. Her first kiss with Octavia! And Octavia had started it!

Vinyl slowly shuffled over to a nearby rock and sat, staring blissfully into the sky as happy feelings swirled inside her tummy, not even caring when other people showed up to play the hole.

Unfortunately, she, too, lost track of time. By the time she'd forced herself to stand up (and pulled herself free of her fantasies of Octavia kissing her, publicly and on the lips), the better part of an hour had passed. 

“Oh, horseapples!” Vinyl cursed as she realized that she would have to sprint to make her gig, too. 

She began to run. She briefly mourned the loss of another pair of pants as she lit her hands and began to call up the burning spell and put the fireworks spell on standby. DJ Pon-3 was going to have to make quite the entrance to make up for being late. Good thing she always carried her ears and her glasses. 



*  *  *



DJ Pon-3 grinned as the club owner counted out her cut into her hand. Once again, she'd carried over her excitement from earlier, and she was being rewarded handsomely. But as soon as he'd finished, her ears (the real ones, not the fake ones) caught the sound of a passive-aggressive mumble. 

“Not sure why she's getting some of the tips. Showed up late and barely did anything all night.”

DJ Pon-3 rolled her eyes. That Frosty Mug guy who had run the bar for years had been decent enough, but he'd retired, and this new bartender chick Absinthe had been a bit of a pain in her flank the whole time she'd worked here. Vinyl turned and curled her lip, preparing for a verbal catfight. “Not sure what crawled up your butt tonight, sunshine, but I'm up there working for my bits, too.”

“Yeah,” Absinthe said sarcastically. “Taking your clothes off, shaking your skinny little butt up there, and pushing buttons is totally work.”

“The only buttons you know how to push are mine, sister,” DJ Pon-3 growled. “You wouldn't know how to use a turntable if your life depended on it. Slip cueing? Beatmatching? I bet you don't even know the difference between a chirp scratch and a flare.”

Absinthe rolled her eyes. “Stop making up stuff. Besides, most ponies come here to drink, not dance.”

DJ Pon-3's eyes narrowed behind her glasses, and she would have rolled up her sleeves if she had been wearing any. “Oh, you no-good, tone-deaf, sack of-”

“Girls,” the club owner warned. He was all for girlfights, of course; but only when there were paying customers around.

But Pon-3 wasn't done. “You’re so sure of that, I'll bet you all my take I can put on a show so sick people abandon your bar completely.”

Absinthe was not about to let that go. “Oh, you're on!” 

“You got it. Next Friday night, so you have a bit of an advantage,” Vinyl said with a sickeningly sweet smile.

“Thursday,” Absinthe countered. “I don't need your pity.”

“So be it,” DJ Pon-3 said, spitting on her hand and holding it out. 

Absinthe didn't flinch as she spat on her hand and returned the gesture. 

“See you Thursday,” DJ Pon-3 grinned. 

“Looking forward to it,” Absinthe growled as she wiped her hand on her pants. 



*  *  *



It was nearly eleven thirty by the time Vinyl rushed home, brimming with excitement. She had been kissed by Octavia!

She burst through the door, slammed it behind her, and sprinted to her room. “Lyra!” she called as she flipped on the light to their bedroom and magically grabbed for her covers. 

But something was wrong with the recently-awoken (and moderately irked) mare in Lyra's bed. She rubbed her eyes blearily, and Vinyl's eyes took in her larger frame, her much larger cup size with accompanying nipples much puffier than Lyra’s, her two-toned hair that was blue and pink as opposed to light green and white, her slightly darker skin, and her rounder face which was devoid of magic trails on her forehead. Her shoulder bore not the mark of a lyre, but three wrapped candies. She glared at her with light blue eyes, in contrast with Lyra's golden eyes. All these things came together, and Vinyl quickly came to a rather startling conclusion. 

“You are not Lyra,” Vinyl observed, pointing a finger at her.

“No, I'm not,” the stranger groaned irritably, rubbing at her eyes. “Who are you?”

“I'm Vinyl Scratch. Local DJ, I play for parties, get togethers, cuteceñeras?”

“Never heard of you. What are you doing here?”

Vinyl frowned, just the tiniest bit offended. “I live here. What are you doing here?”

The mare looked down at the large, person-shaped bulge with green flyaway hair under the covers and then looked back up at her incredulously. “Do you really need to ask that?”

“Well, I don’t know. I mean, I’ve never seen you before, so that’s why I ask, because… you’re in my house, and…”

The stranger's jaw dropped and her face contorted slightly as she tried to comprehend how someone could be so stupid; but before she could deliver her scathing reply, Vinyl’s eyes widened in recognition and she snapped her fingers.

“I've got it!” Vinyl proclaimed. “You're Bon Bon!” 

The mare in bed shifted and her eyes narrowed. “How do you know my name?” she demanded.

“Oh, Lyra talks about you all the time. It's nice to finally meet you. You make the best chocolates and you always smell like sugar, and when you kiss her you taste like sugar, too; and…” Vinyl's eyes widened further as another implication hit her. “Lyra got laid!”

Bon Bon glanced down From her position on Bon Bon's stomach, Lyra mumbled an affirmation along with something that sounded like 'felt so good' before trying to press her head even closer against her lover.

Bon Bon looked flatly at her. “Yes; but I'm not sure what that has to do with you,” she said. 

“Oh, Lyra and I have been friends forever. We share everything.” She paused. “Except marefriends. We're not really into that kind of thing. We're both fillyfoolers, though.”

Bon Bon raised an eyebrow. 

“But not with each other. Well, we've tried; but it didn't work out so well and we peacefully and mutually called it off because we both felt we weren’t right for each other and I'm rambling again, aren’t I?”

Bon Bon cracked a wry half-smile and nodded. “You’ve been rambling the whole time, really. It’s like listening to a train wreck. It’s pretty bad.”

Vinyl frowned, mildly offended but unable to refute this claim. 

At this point, Lyra, who had still been resting against Bon Bon's stomach, stirred, waking up fully this time, and she lifted her head up. She was also naked, but apparently unmindful of this fact. “Bonsie? Why's my light on?” Her eyes narrowed predatorily, and she pulled herself up closer to Bon Bon’s face. “Did you want to go for round seven after all?” she asked, her voice a husky whisper.

Bon Bon snorted and grunted slightly as she shifted painfully. Apparently, whatever they'd done for rounds one through six had left her exhausted. “Your roommate's home,” she said. 

Lyra blinked, and then looked over. “Vinyl!” she said brightly, straightening up. “How was your date?”

Now, Vinyl is a rather visual learner, easily influenced by what she saw. As she currently saw two naked females' torsos with accompanying assets, it was therefore entirely understandable that what came out of Vinyl's mouth was, “It was the breast date of my life!”

Lyra looked down and blushed as she quickly pulled her arms in front of her chest. “Right,” she said with a nervous smile. 

Bon Bon, in contrast, defiantly kept her arms where they were by her sides. 

Vinyl hesitated ever so briefly. She wished she could have that confidence, exposing herself to someone she’d just met, not caring what they thought. She shook her head to clear it. “So…” Vinyl said. “I got a kiss, and you got laid. Protocol four?”

Lyra clapped once and began getting out of bed. “First, clothes; then protocol four. We deserve it!”

Bon Bon frowned. “What's a protocol four?”



*  *  *



“So this is a protocol four,” Bon Bon murmured as she stared at her heaping bowl of ice cream. 

“Yep!” Lyra said happily, sucking her own spoon clean. “Ice cream solves everything.”

“How much ice cream do you girls go through, anyway?” Bon Bon asked, reluctantly digging her spoon in and looking at the ice cream suspiciously. She’d always preferred her sugar in chocolate, not frozen with milk fats.

Vinyl shrugged. “Tons. And we get the good kind, so it's a huge part of our budget. But it's totally worth it.”

Bon Bon took a bite and a smile spread across her face. “I could get used to this,” she said, scooping up another. 

The three girls talked and ate long into the night, only ending when the ice cream carton was empty. Vinyl went to throw the empty carton away, and paused as she peered inside the trash can. “Who ate all the whipped cream?” she asked, frowning.

“No comment,” Bon Bon growled. 
> Awards and Such
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	DJ Pon-3 really didn’t care for Sundays, and she especially disliked Sunday nights. Everyone always had to get up early for work the next morning, and that killed a party vibe more than anything else (barring the odd earthquake, power outage, or royal guard intervention, of course). 

In stark contrast, Vinyl Scratch enjoyed Sundays immensely. She could spend time writing music, just hanging out with Lyra and doing fun things like brushing each other's hair, organizing Vinyl’s record collection, making cookies that they’d always say they were going to share with their neighbors but just end up eating all of the dough themselves first; that sort of thing. Sundays were great.

This Sunday, though, she would make an exception. She was once more in her cocktail dress with the slit too high and the chest too loose. She adjusted the fit again with a quick tug, and once more wished that puberty had seen fit to give her larger curves. 

Still, she would put up with anything as long as Octavia was there. 

Though Octavia hadn't specified, Vinyl had known exactly which awards show she had referred to because she, too, had received an invitation. She never went, though. Too many strangers. Pon-3 tried going once. The guy at the door took one look at her in her tights, fishnet shirt with a tight black vest, and glow stick bandolier, and asked her to leave. 

Really, though, calling it an awards show was a bit of an overstatement. It was really like a bunch of people showing off their wealth and connections for each other with a few little statues given out randomly for arbitrary genres at the end of the night. 

And it totally didn't bother Vinyl that she'd never actually won one. 

The thoughts of how great it would look sitting stop her keystation were banished as Octavia, returned, with drinks for the both of them. Vinyl took the offered flute, and Octavia noticed that she had lifted it perfectly steadily, not sloshing it at all.

“I must admit, I’m somewhat impressed,” Octavia said, lifting her own glass. “You fit right in.”

Vinyl grinned and took a polite sip. “Just because I dress like a hobo sometimes doesn’t mean I always act like one,” she said, subconsciously adjusting her dress again. “Thanks again for inviting me to come with you.”

“I'm glad you could make it,” Octavia said.

“They’re prestigious awards,” Vinyl said. “Kinda. I mean... I just know you’ll win one. Maybe you’ll win them all.”

Octavia chuckled politely. “Oh, I doubt that,” she said. 

“You're mad skilled. Which one couldn’t you win?” Vinyl challenged.

“How about best contrabass performance?” Octavia returned.

Vinyl nearly choked on her drink as she imagined Octavia, wearing a beautiful sparkly dress that was cut low in the front to her waist below her navel—Vinyl always did have a thing for belly buttons—and cut high up the thigh to accentuate her womanly figure, stepping up to a microphone on a high stage… and then opening her mouth and singing a deep note like a foghorn, low enough to rattle the ceiling and shake the glass right off the chandeliers.

Octavia cracked a smile. Vinyl was cute when she got distracted.

“Excuse me, Miss Melody?”

Octavia turned around and her eyes widened in recognition. “Jet Set, Upper Crust, good evening.”

The unicorn's eyes widened. “Ah, I see our reputation precedes us.”

Octavia shrugged. “One would have to be blind to not know you.”

Vinyl blinked. Apparently, she was due for a vision checkup. 

“Quite the turnout tonight.”

“Indeed. It does my heart good to see such resurgence of the arts.”

“I'm sure it does your purse good, too?”

“Hardly, miss Upper Crust; we've all of us taken a two percent pay cut over the past year.”

“Oh? But why?”

“It seems that those who profess their love for music do so with lip service alone.”

“Oh, I doubt that.”

“Ah, Miss Highbrow.”

“Yes. I have donated no less than three thousand bits myself for the cause of music.”

“Such a paltry amount.”

“Oh, and I suppose you've been more generous?”

“Oh, I have indeed.”

“Ah. I suppose that's why your private box is so far off to the side of the theatre. Or perhaps you’re just being modest and donating that, too?”

“Hardly; surely you know that certain boxes are reserved for royalty and other dignitaries?”

“Oh, and now I suppose you're going to discuss the so-called 'phantom' of the orchestra?”

Octavia found her attention wavering. As someone who performed for the love of her art, talks of money had always irked her. Furthermore, she happened to know the 'phantom'; he was the custodian and he happened to have a pure love of music (and the knowledge of the theatre to make it seem 'haunted' at his pleasure). She glanced over to see how Vinyl was doing and…

Wait. Where was Vinyl?



*  *  *



Vinyl stood in one of the stalls of the bathroom, eyes closed, legs spread for balance a little more than shoulders' width apart, hands pressed firmly against the flimsy stall walls as she took deep, steadying breaths through clenched teeth. So many people… so many people she didn’t know, talking about things that didn't matter… and it was loud and it was cacophonic and it made her ears ring and it was… 

The door opened, and Vinyl heard high heels clipping in at a quick march before slowing to a stop. “Vinyl Scratch?” Octavia’s voice came, low and sweet. “Are you in here?”

“Maybe?” Vinyl replied.

She could almost hear Octavia crack a smile before her voice shifted to concern. “Are you quite alright?” she asked.

Vinyl exhaled, undid the lock, and pushed the door open. She looked up and met Octavia’s eyes. “I can’t,” she whispered.

“What?”

“Too many people,” Vinyl said. “I just… I’m not… I don’t feel comfortable out there. I can’t.” She bit her lower lip and looked up ashamedly at Octavia, trying to hide the disgust she felt with herself. Why? Octavia clearly was friends with all these people! Why couldn’t Vinyl just put up with it for a bit longer? Why was she so weak? Why couldn’t she handle herself around so many strangers? The noise didn’t bother her ears that badly. Why was she so… broken?

Octavia nodded and pulled her in for a hug. “It’s alright,” she said. “I forget you’re not good with crowds.”

“Yeah,” Vinyl said bitterly. “I can stand in front of one, no problem; but put me in one, and I’m… I become this,” she whimpered.

“It’s fine,” Octavia said comfortingly. “We all have our weaknesses. I can stay here with you for a while if you’d like.”

“But what if you miss your award?” Vinyl asked, pulling back slightly. 

“I’m sure I won’t,” Octavia said. “It's not scheduled to start for a while; first comes the hobnobbing and the not so subtle asking for donations. Besides, I’m not even sure I’ll win one, remember?”

“No,” Vinyl said firmly, placing a hand on Octavia’s chest and gently pushing her backwards. “You need to go and you need a good seat for when you win. You’ll go up there and…” Her voice trailed off as she realized that she had placed her hand right on Octavia’s left breast. Blushing bright red, she quickly retracted her hand and folded both behind her back. She looked up at Octavia and gave a sheepish smile. She was doing that a lot recently. “You’ll win something,” she finished lamely.

Thankfully, Octavia looked unoffended. She gently ran her fingers through Vinyl’s hair. “Very well,” she said. “If it starts before you can rejoin me, I’ll be in the front.” 

Vinyl gave her a shaky smile. She didn’t want to sound needy, but she sure wished she’d kept doing that. “I’ll be out soon,” she promised.

Octavia took one step, looked back as if to say something else, but then smiled comfortingly and waved a simple goodbye as she walked away.

Vinyl waited until the door had shut and her footsteps had faded away, and then she slammed a fist against the stall wall. Why? What was wrong with her? Was she always going to just drag Octavia down like this? Why couldn't she just get over it? She slammed the stall door shut and hit herself on the side of her head with the heel of her palm a few times. 

After a few minutes, she had calmed her breathing enough to keep up appearances. Out of habit, she flushed the toilet before stepping out of the stall. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized there was another person currently washing her hands. She looked vaguely familiar. 

And a bit concerned. She raised an eyebrow at Vinyl in the mirror. “You alright?”

Vinyl blushed as she realized that she had no idea when she had come in and therefore didn't know how many of the impacts and muttered curses she had heard; but she was fairly certain how they’d been interpreted. “Tower of Tacos' Tuesday Special,” Vinyl said by way of explanation, slowly shaking her head side to side. “Don’t recommend it.”

The other woman nodded hesitantly. Vinyl quickly shook the water off her hands and scampered out as soon as humanly possible back into the ballroom. The one nice thing about crowds was it was easy to lose someone after you'd made an embarrassing mistake. Like how today was actually Sunday and not Tuesday. Hey, if she had really waited five days to eat those cheap tacos, she probably would have deserved worse than just an upset stomach. 

Chuckling to herself, she reintegrated herself into the room and wandered through the crowd, and she soon found a very familiar-looking backless seafoam dress. She reached up and tapped her on the shoulder. “Hey-”

Too late, she realized that she had been thinking of Lyra's dress. Octavia's had been black. 

The unfamiliar mare looked back at her and raised an eyebrow. 

Vinyl stammered and grinned nervously. “I… uh… just wanted to say you… look lovely tonight?”

The stranger cracked a confused half-smile that bordered on pitying and gave her a sympathetic shake of her head before she turned back to her friends. Vinyl grimaced and, covering her face with a hand, she quickly made herself scarce. 

After a little wandering (and more than a couple trips to the drinks table), she eventually found Octavia, now standing in a group. Vinyl stopped short and held back. They looked like they were having a good conversation, and she didn't want to interrupt. She played with the hem of her dress. 

And then she felt something touch her hand. She jumped in surprise. “Wha-!”

Oh.

Octavia giggled. “What are you doing all the way back here?” she asked. “Come, meet some of my fellow musicians.”

Vinyl gave a half-smile and stepped forward. Here was something she could do. Just let Octavia do all the talking.

Octavia pointed at her friends. “This is Fredrick. He's our pianist.”

Oh yes, Vinyl remembered as she shook his hand. The Grand Pianomaster. It was somewhat nice to put names to faces. 

But then blood drained from Vinyl's face as Octavia moved on. The woman from the bathroom grinned back. Vinyl almost didn’t hear Octavia introduce her as Beauty Brass. She was too busy hoping against hope that she had already forgotten their bathroom interaction.

And, of course, she hadn’t. “Vinyl Scratch taking on the Tower of Tacos, huh?” she asked, wiggling her eyebrows.

Vinyl blushed and averted her eyes. Getting called out for anything was her least favorite thing. 

Octavia glanced between them. “Did I miss something?”

“Nothing at all,” Beauty Brass laughed, hiding her smile behind her hand. “But your friend has some… interesting taste.”

“Does she, now?” Octavia asked. It was probably meant to be polite, but Vinyl couldn’t help but feel put on the spot.

Vinyl exhaled. “I think the tacos made me sick,” she whimpered. “Again. I’ll be back.” 

And with that, she turned around and, eyes firmly down on the floor, made a beeline back towards the bathroom.



*  *  *



Vinyl scowled at nothing in particular as she looked at the front of the room. Awards were being given out on stage, this one something about a sousaphone, but Vinyl wasn’t paying much attention to that. While she’d been recovering from her embarrassment (and desperately trying to figure out how she’d ever be able to look anyone in the eyes ever again), the announcement had been made, and everyone had made their way over to the auditorium.

Including, as it so happened, Octavia’s boyfriend. Currently, they were sitting together, a good dozen rows in front of Vinyl, holding hands. Needless to say, Vinyl Scratch was not pleased.

As if feeling the heat from her glare, Beauty Brass fidgeted in her seat and eventually looked back. She spotted Vinyl, and with a little teasing smile waved her over; but Vinyl shook her head. Beauty shook her head back and made the motions a bit bigger.

As Octavia looked over to see what she was doing, Vinyl ducked her head under the seat, hoping she was out of sight.

She found a penny, a paperclip, a little rock, and a piece of lint when she heard ‘electronica’. She looked up. Sure enough, there was an award for electronica music. She cracked a smile. It’s not like she would win.

Wait. Could she win? Vinyl began to hyperventilate. This was not part of the plan. Heck, talking to other people here was not technically part of the plan! Getting up on stage would…

Would be good, actually. She could do in front of crowds. She straightened up, hoping to hear her name. Nothing would make her prouder than strutting up, swaying her hips past Octavia and drawing her stare almost against her will, and walking on stage in front of everyone after hearing the announcer call… 

“Neon Lights!”

She scowled, but only because her plan had failed. Neon was a great artist, and if she had to be honest, his latest single had been really good. 

Octavia’s boyfriend, however, did not have a similar reaction. He scowled and spat something under his breath. Octavia reached out to comfort him, but he ducked under her hand and stormed out.

Vinyl’s jaw dropped. She didn’t even have the presence of mind to duck down again; she just stared. How dare he? Didn’t he know that the touch of a goddess would be enough to cure all illnesses and soothe all wounds?

She paused, then snorted. No more reading Greek legends for musical inspiration before bed.

This irritation was somewhat mitigated when she had a sudden thought of Octavia posing in that one picture of the birth of Venus, standing on a clam shell, completely naked with only her hair providing any semblance of modesty… and still leaving plenty to be seen.

Vinyl blushed and shifted back in her seat. That would be a picture she would pay good money for. 

Wait. Why would she need a picture when she could have the real thing? His seat was open; she could totally take it (and maybe Octavia would hold her hand, instead). 

Beauty Brass apparently thought the same thing; she looked back and none-too-subtly waved her forward. 

Vinyl shifted her weight. She could go up. She totally could. Just go up there and sit next to Octavia. Wouldn't be too hard. 

But another thought suddenly occurred to her. What if they thought she was heading for the stage? She couldn't do that. Everyone would look at her and wonder if she were stupid for going up when clearly that was a guy's name being called.

So she stayed in her seat, ignoring Beauty Brass, and hating herself the whole time.



*  *  *



But Vinyl could definitely walk Octavia home. 

“Two awards,” Vinyl said, still in awe. “You won two awards.”

Octavia shrugged modestly. “I'm sure other people had equally good chances of winning; and besides, the best collaboration of the summer wouldn’t have been possible without you.”

“Oh, don’t do that, Octavia,” Vinyl said. “You owned it! You totally deserved to win!”

Octavia smiled. “I’m glad you hold me in such high regard,” she said.

“Oh, yeah. The highest,” Vinyl said. As she did, she had the awful feeling that she was rambling again and making Octavia feel uncomfortable, and she struggled with something to say that wouldn’t be awkward. She’d already had enough awkward this night to last her the rest of the year, and frankly she was surprised Octavia had even deigned to walk her home. “I’m sorry he didn’t get to see you win,” she offered.

Then Vinyl winced. That had definitely counted as awkward.

Octavia seemed to glide right over it. “Yes, well, his loss, I suppose. Honestly, if he keeps this up, he’ll be in the market for a new lover pretty soon.”

Vinyl’s heart caught in her throat. Did that mean…?

Octavia seemed to think so. She bumped Vinyl’s hand with the back of her own. Vinyl kept walking, but her heart rate jumped and she may have stopped breathing. Had she just imagined that?

She had not; Octavia did it again. Vinyl held her hand out a little further away from her hips, hoping; and Octavia took it. She came from behind, and took Vinyl’s hand, sliding her hand over until she could interlace their fingers. Vinyl’s heart rate spiked again. 

Octavia hid a smile as Vinyl’s breathing became ragged, as if stunned that this were happening. That smile only widened as Vinyl squeezed her hand, though out of nervousness or affection Octavia couldn’t tell. 

Incidentally, Vinyl wasn’t even sure herself. But she certainly wasn’t complaining when Octavia squeezed back.

Together, hand in hand, they walked back towards Octavia’s apartment. 

Vinyl couldn't keep a wide smile off her face. She was still amazed that Octavia wanted to hold her hand. Her!

But hold her hand she did, all the way back up to Octavia’s apartment. Vinyl was nervous on the stairs. She wanted to slow down so it lasted longer; but she didn’t want to drag Octavia down.

At the doorway, Octavia turned around and dropped Vinyl’s hand, only to spread her own in invitation. Vinyl quickly accepted, and gave Octavia a hug.

Too soon, Octavia pulled back. “I have to get up early for rehearsal tomorrow, so I must cut this short; but I believe it’s your turn to suggest our next activity.”

Vinyl squeezed her brain. “Saturday?” she suggested. “We can… do something I’ll think of later.”

Octavia chuckled and nodded. She brought her hand up and ran it through Vinyl’s hair again. “Saturday,” she confirmed. “I’ll see you then, Vinyl.” She leaned in and gave Vinyl a gentle kiss on the cheek, and Vinyl froze.

“J- just as good as the first time,” she stammered. Then she winced, scrunching up her eyes and looking down. That wasn’t what you were supposed to say, was it?

“Was it?” Octavia asked, the mirth evident in her voice. “Then how’s this, I wonder?”

And Vinyl’s heart stopped as Octavia leaned in and kissed her on the lips. 

Vinyl’s brain quite nearly shut down along with her heart, and she couldn’t do anything besides stand there and take it. Sensing something was wrong, Octavia retracted ever so slightly, and Vinyl let out a pathetic whimper as she felt the pressure on her lips fade to just Octavia’s breath. Before Octavia could speak, Vinyl slowly slid down to the ground, a wide smile on her face.

Octavia looked down, hiding a smile behind her hand. “Are you alright?”

Vinyl didn’t even care that she was probably flashing the whole street. “Yeah. I’m more than alright. I’m really alright. I could probably die happy right now.”

“Well, I strongly recommend you don’t; for if you die, I shall never kiss you again.”

Vinyl shot up. “I'm fine!”

Unfortunately, Vinyl was used to wearing flats; but tonight she had chosen a low set of heels. As she stood up, her toes landed on the step, but her heels did not. This unbalanced her and sent her toppling over backwards. Octavia quickly reached out for her, but gravity was too strong; Vinyl went tumbling down the stairs.

“I’m ok!” she called, standing up (more carefully this time) to prove it. “Until Saturday!” 

Octavia giggled. “Very well. Saturday, then.”

“Yes! Saturday!” And Vinyl waved cheerfully until Octavia went back inside her apartment.

As soon as she shut the door, VInyl bent over and placed a hand against her thigh. “Ow, ow, ow…” she whimpered as she started her long shuffle back home.

Still. Totally worth it.
	
> Bets and Losses
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Late on Thursday night, Octavia knocked on Vinyl's door. She shifted from one foot to the other, feeling just the tiniest bit apprehensive. Their date wasn't actually scheduled until Saturday, but she had decided to come over for a surprise visit. That was acceptable, wasn’t it? With all she had going on right now, a familiar face would be a wonderful sight. Besides, Vinyl had done many nice things for her, and she had really made an attempt to step out of her comfort zone for her. If Octavia was being perfectly honest, she was rather excited to see her again. She also had the distinct impression that Vinyl would be pretty happy to see her, too. 

But to her surprise, Vinyl didn't answer the door. Instead, it was Lyra who tore open the door, only to look disappointed as she saw Octavia. “You're not Bon Bon,” she said sadly. 

“No, I'm not,” Octavia said wryly. She raised her eyebrow as she looked at Lyra's outfit, which consisted of loose, untied pajama pants, and a short shirt that was far too tight for her, revealing that she was not wearing anything beneath it. “Is Vinyl here?” she asked. 

Lyra shook her head. “No, she's not. She's performing tonight.” 

“Performing?” Octavia frowned. A performance? Why wouldn't Vinyl invite her? Was she embarrassed? Did she not want Octavia there? She glanced at the apartment, and memories of Vinyl’s recording equipment came to mind. Though certainly not top of the line, it definitely hadn’t been cheap. She briefly wondered if Vinyl was moonlighting as a stripper.

Oblivious to Octavia’s internal questions, Lyra nodded and explained. “Yeah. She's doing a gig down at Scissor's.”

Octavia paused. Her previous idea suddenly sounded slightly more plausible. “Is that supposed to be a fillyfooler establishment?”

Lyra squinted. “What? No. The owner won it in a game of Rock Paper Scissors; he threw scissors.”

Octavia nodded. That would also make sense. 

“Actually…” Lyra turned around and leaned over, digging around in the basket on the table by the door. Octavia could tell that she was not wearing anything under her pajama pants, either. She retrieved a lanyard with a card dangling from it and held it out. “Here. This pass will get you in the door if you want to go see her. Backstage, too. Normally, I would go; but as you can probably tell, I'm… expecting company.” She grinned sheepishly.

Octavia hesitantly took the offered lanyard. She looked at the address on it, along with the words 'all-access pass' emblazoned on the top. She bit her lower lip. What was Vinyl doing?



* * *



The club owner was asking a somewhat similar question: Where on Celestia's green earth was DJ Pon-3?

Absinthe smirked to him as she continued mixing her drinks. As the only attraction that night, she was already racking up the tips. Pon-3 not showing up was one way to lose the bet, and she (along with her wallet) was not about to complain. 

The crowd, however, had no qualms about doing so, and very loudly at that. The owner was just about desperate enough to try playing music himself when he noticed a smaller mare pushing her way through the crowd and heading towards the stage. She climbed on and turned to the crowd. “Seriously? Is this what you came for?” she demanded, her voice slicing through the dull roar of the crowd. “Overpriced drinks? Making out with your marefriend in the corner? You could have done that at home and saved yourselves the cover charge!”

She turned towards the stage and flipped back the hood and dropped her jacket. 

The crowd began to murmur excitedly. She had bright blue frizzy hair, a barred eighth note as a cutie mark, and jean shorts that left very little to the imagination. She spun around and her shirt (or what was left of it; a jagged diagonal tear up the front meant that while her right breast was covered, her left breast seemed to be covered by shadow and good luck) fluttered in its own breeze as she positioned herself behind the decks. 

“No. That's not it at all. We…” She hit the deck's power switch and laid a single record on. “We are here for one reason and one reason only. To dance!”

A deep note pulsed once, just once through the club, and then came a fast drumbeat. It seemed to increase in pace, and then the deep note returned--had it ever left?--and it raised in pitch, as if preparing to drop. As if they had been magically summoned, every single guest dropped their drinks and sprinted to the dance floor. Unicorns relit the magic trails on their hands and foreheads, earth ponies broke out new glow sticks, and pegasi swung and gyrated in the air as the music slowly increased in complexity and volume. Then it fell silent; but only for the briefest of moments. 

When it dropped, it was like a needed release. Even the firmest of wallflowers were sucked onto the dance floor, pulled in by the hypnotic music of the DJ and the dancing atmosphere. DJ Pon-3 looked over her crowded domain and glanced over at the empty bar, and just smirked. 

Well, it wasn't entirely empty. Far back in the corner, in the shadows and somewhat away from sight, a gray earth pony mare wearing an all-access pass watched her display. She bit her lower lip. 

Absinthe quickly sauntered over. She didn't intend to lose this bet just yet. “Hey there,” she said, casting her eye down at her glass, instantly recognizing her drink of choice. Normally, she would have given her a little flak for choosing something nonalcoholic, but in the interest of winning her bet, she let it slide this time. “Can I interest you in a free refill?”

Octavia shook her head. “Thank you, but I believe I've seen enough for tonight.” She calmly finished her drink, pushed the empty glass away, and hurriedly left the club. 



* * *



Vinyl Scratch wasn't one for drawing public attention. She was perfectly happy letting her fame grow through word of mouth, and she enjoyed doing little shows around her neighborhood. Recently, she’d even purchased a few cheap microphones, and had started doing little karaoke sessions for parties. This was great for her because it let her be at the parties without actually needing to be the center of attention.

DJ Pon-3, however, loved the limelight, and felt it was important to show a little love to her fans. Every once in a while, and against Lyra’s advice, Vinyl would (for lack of a better term) let her out to play. 

And play she did. With Absinthe’s paycheck (with tips) in her pocket, she had money to burn, and she had splurged on some new clothes that just begged Pon-3 to be shown off. This Friday morning, she strutted down the street, greeting any who came up, posing for pictures, and signing autographs onto anything offered. 

She had just finished tagging a female’s buttocks when something happened she didn't expect. Or rather, someone. A tall gray earth pony with jet-black hair and a purple treble clef on her shoulders. 

DJ Pon-3 raised her eyebrows as she approached. “'Sup?” she asked, looking over the tops of her sunglasses.

“Well, hey there. You look familiar,” Octavia said with a wink, inviting a conversation. 

DJ Pon-3 frowned, but it quickly morphed into a grin. “I don't think I've seen you before,” she said. “DJ Pon-3,” she introduced herself, holding out a hand. 

Octavia frowned as she instinctively shook it and returned, “O- Octavia.” Had Vinyl really just said that? And to make it worse, her body language made it seem like she really believed it. “Are you… sure we haven't met?”

DJ Pon-3 grinned as she lifted her sunglasses and unabashedly took in Octavia's body. Octavia blinked. Vinyl usually tried to hide it when she looked at her body, and it was somewhat endearing how hard she tried to not be noticeable. That, Octavia didn’t mind at all. This, though, was different. She was being… ogled. 

“Trust me, sugartits. There aren't many mares with a set like that walking around. Those I'd definitely remember.”

Octavia's jaw dropped. A nightclub alter ego she could maybe accept, even if it was odd that Vinyl hadn’t trusted her enough to share that little tidbit; but denying she ever knew her and then objectifying her? Vinyl would never do that. 

Would she? Was Vinyl really just the same as everyone else, just hiding behind an adorable facade?

Seemingly oblivious to Octavia's internal conflict, DJ Pon-3 reached into her pocket and found a piece of paper; a pass to some club that had a name Octavia didn’t recognize. “Hey, if you're down, I'd love to see you dancing on stage. Wearing less clothing, of course.” She winked as held out the ticket. As Octavia was reaching for it, she reached around with her other hand and spanked her, hard. 

Octavia jumped and squeaked. She was hardly opposed to a little intimate physical contact, of course—she was often the instigator of such things—but this was hardly the time or place!

DJ Pon-3 pulled down her sunglasses, and ran her tongue across her upper lip and winked before flouncing away, shaking her hips. 

Octavia watched her go, and then she clenched her fist, crumpling the pass in her hand, and dropped it onto the street before crushing it under her heel. 

Oh no, Vinyl. I won't be played by you, too.



* * *



DJ Pon-3 got home and kicked the door shut behind her. She frowned as she removed her outfit. Vinyl wasn't entirely conscious of all that she did as DJ Pon-3, but for some reason she had the distinct impression that she had made a terrible mistake somewhere today, and that it had something to do with Octavia. 

She pondered for a moment, and then attributed it to just her worrying. She did that far too much. 

> Rejection
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Early on Saturday afternoon, Vinyl reached up and knocked on the door. She shivered and tugged her jacket tighter around her body. It was windy and overcast today, and for some reason that felt very foreboding. 

Octavia eventually opened the door. The first thing Vinyl noticed was that her body language was a bit more closed than usual. She stood closer to the door, with one hand resting on it and her body almost hiding behind it, and no smile played at her lips. 

Vinyl nearly found herself at a loss for words. This wasn’t like Octavia at all. Her name. That would work. “Uh… hey, Octi,” she said with a hopeful smile. “What’s up?”

“Not much,” Octavia said coolly.

Vinyl felt her heart start beating faster. Why was Octavia still hiding behind her door? Why wasn’t she coming to give her a hug? Why wasn’t she smiling? Had Vinyl done something wrong? She had, hadn't she? What had she done? “Ready for our date?” Vinyl tried.

“I’m not so sure.”

Vinyl paled. “Wh- what do you mean?” she asked. “You mean the date? We don’t have to go to the mall if you don’t want. I don’t mind. I don't mind at all-”

“Not just the date,” Octavia said. “It's just… I don't think it's going to work out between us. I think you’ve made it quite clear how you feel about me.”

Vinyl blinked. “I have?” she asked. It was ‘love’, right? She was going to say she knew Vinyl loved her, right? Maybe she was just playing a joke on her? That was logical.

“Indeed. It’s certainly been enlightening.”

Vinyl’s breath caught in her throat. This was all wrong. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go at all! Was Octavia breaking up with her? Had they even ever been official? “But-”

“I'm sorry, Vinyl.” With those crushing words, Octavia returned inside her apartment and shut the door. 

As soon as the door shut, Vinyl sprang into action. She tore her shirt off and stuck it into the back of her pants as her tail. She nearly ripped her pockets as she tugged her ears out and shoved them on her head, and she nearly poked her eyes out as she jammed her sunglasses onto her face. Who needed her, anyway? DJ Pon-3 made a rude gesture at the closed door. She would have just held her back. She was just one girl. She could take a long walk off a short pier for all Pon-3 cared.

Ignoring the goosebumps forming on her skin from the cold, she turned and strutted away. 



*  *  *



Lyra whistled lightly to herself as she arrived at home. As soon as she opened the door, she saw Vinyl, wearing her ears and sunglasses. Lyra sighed, her good mood fading slightly. “Vinyl, you know what we've agreed about bringing Pon-3… home…” Her voice trailed off as she realized that Vinyl was completely naked aside from those ears and glasses. 

She looked back, and raised her left hand in greeting, as her right was currently otherwise occupied. “Hey, Lyra. Care to join me?”

Lyra hesitantly walked closer. “In complete honesty? No. Not at all. Is there a reason you're… doing that… on our couch?”

“A girl’s got the right to have a little fun in her own house, amirite?” She slid over a bit, making a slightly wet and squelchy sound as she did. “You sure you don't want to join me?”

Lyra bit her lower lip. This was not Vinyl. This was not Vinyl at all. “Ok. What did I miss?” she asked sternly.

DJ Pon-3 shrugged as she continued her ministrations. “Oh, nothing. Just realized that I don't need another mare after all. And even if I did, I could just find another mare who'd be willing to spread her legs for me. DJ Pon-3 is only the most desirable DJ out there, you know. Shouldn't be too hard.”

Lyra knew two things at that point. One, Vinyl had been hurt; and two, she needed to talk to Vinyl, not DJ Pon-3. “Vinyl Scratch,” she started. 

“My name is DJ Pon-3. Heard of me?”

“Vinyl,” Lyra insisted.

“You're killing my groove, sister,” Pon-3 groused. 

“Take the glasses off, Vinyl.”

DJ Pon-3 met her eyes. “Make me,” she challenged.

Lyra raised her hand, but Pon-3 was faster. With a quick flick of her wrist, she cast a stinging spell and tagged Lyra right on the wrist. Lyra hissed in pain and grabbed at her wrist. Pon-3 stuck her tongue out and continued. 

“Vinyl, take the glasses off,” Lyra commanded as she shook out her hand. 

“No.”

Lyra walked around to the front of the couch. “Vinyl, we can't talk until you take them off.”

“Maybe I don't want to talk, eh?”

“Are you afraid of talking? That’s a really, really lame thing to be afraid of.”

DJ Pon-3, who definitely considered herself not lame, frowned and briefly looked down to process this and formulate a biting response. Lyra took this opportunity to reach out and grab the earpieces of her glasses, intent on physically taking them off. Pon-3 flinched, but didn't resist, letting Lyra slide the glasses off of her face. The ears came next, the band sliding out easily of her messy blue hair. Lyra decided not to reach around to see if she was wearing the tail. 

With her eyes now exposed, Vinyl's angry expression slowly cracked. Her lower lip trembled, tears welled up in her eyes, and she began to sob. Tears ran down unabated down her face, and she grabbed Lyra and began crying despondently into her shoulder. 

Lyra hugged her back, desperately trying to ignore the fact that Vinyl was completely naked and wet in more ways than one. “Shh, shh. It's ok,” she said soothingly. “Lyra's here. Let's talk about this over ice cream, ok? Protocol seventeen, just the two of us. How's that sound?”

Vinyl sniffled and nodded. She pulled back and wiped her eyes, pausing to look down at her right hand as if asking why it was already moist. As she was looking down, she then happened to glance at her body; and when she realized that she was naked, she squeaked and curled into a ball to cover herself. She looked up at Lyra and let out a defeated whimper. 

Lyra nodded. “Ok. Clothes first, then protocol seventeen.”

Vinyl didn't stop until their freezer had been emptied of ice cream. 
	
> Talking, Part 1: Lyra and Octavia
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Lyra tried to stay quiet as she got dressed after her shower. She slowly slid her clothes on, but the door squeaked when she turned the handle. She flinched. Usually she would have used her magic, but that noise always seemed to wake up unicorns.  She waited, hoping against hope that Vinyl would remain asleep. 

“Where're you goin'?” Vinyl asked, her voice muffled by her position face down on her bed. 

Lyra winced. “Oh, you know, out and about,” she said airily. 

Vinyl rotated her head slightly. “You're going to hang out with Bon Bon, aren't you?” she asked. It wasn't quite an accusation, but the pain in her voice was evident. 

“Maybe?” Lyra winced again. She wasn't a good liar. 

Vinyl rolled back over. “Have fun,” she said into her pillow. 

Lyra frowned. Vinyl was her closest friend, and it hurt to see her in pain like this. Still, she had thought all night last night and even a little while laying in bed this morning, and she had decided that anything she could think of to say just wouldn’t help Vinyl. She headed out the door, hoping fervently that Vinyl would be ok. 



*  *  *



“-and that's what makes my chocolate the best chocolate this side of the Griffonia border,” Bon Bon finished proudly. 

Lyra continued eating her square. She licked her lips, but didn't make eye contact. “Yeah. It's delicious.”

Bon Bon's eyes narrowed as she began to suspect that Lyra wasn't paying complete attention. “But some chocolatiers use children's tears* as their main ingredient instead of the cocoa butter. Those are just so hard to come by, but they really add volume and a smooth, silky texture to the mixture.”

Lyra nodded. “Yeah, I could see that.”

“You're distracted,” Bon Bon accused. 

Lyra shook her head. “No I'm not; I'm paying-” Her voice trailed off as she saw that Bon Bon had pulled down her shirt and was flashing her. 

Lyra grinned wolfishly as she took in the sight. “How long-?”

Smirking, Bon Bon tugged her shirt back up. “The whole conversation; but you weren’t watching. Sucks to be you!”

“Nuh-uh,” Lyra retorted. 

“Anyway, now that I actually have your attention, what's bothering you?”

Lyra sighed. “I'm thinking about Vinyl. Octavia broke up with her, and she's pretty devastated.”

“Why?” Bon Bon asked. 

“Because she really loved her, I guess.”

“No, why did Octavia break up with her? Did she cheat on her? Forget her birthday?” Her voice darkened. “Lie about her gender?”

Lyra cracked a smile and shrugged. “I don't know; but she did say no in a pretty crushing way.”

Bon Bon shrugged. “So did I; and we're still together.”

Lyra leaned over and gave Bon Bon a tight hug. “That's true. And I've never been happier.”

Bon Bon briefly returned the nuzzle before coughing and straightening up slightly. “So what are you going to do about it? Go to Octavia's apartment and see what she says about it?”



*  *  *



Octavia was sitting at her kitchen table, glaring at her fifth cup of coffee and a whole packet of staff paper that had remained stubbornly blank all morning when she heard voices outside her window. Normally, that wouldn't be too big a cause for concern; but as she listened, she could tell that these voices definitely weren't grounds crew. 

“I still can't believe we're here right now.”

“It'll totally work. Great idea, by the way.”

“I was being facetious!”

“Still going to work. Ok. This one's hers. Now crouch and let me on. She's on the second floor.”

“How do you know where she lives?”

“Vinyl checked to see if her equipment would fit if Octavia ever asked her to live with her. Now crouch!”

Octavia snorted. Had Vinyl moved in, her neighbors would likely have tried to have her evicted within the hour. 

“This is not what I had in mind when I invited you over this morning!”

“Yeah, well, I can't lift you, so this is our only-”

There was a solid thump, as if someone had just been dropped onto the ground. “Are you calling me fat?”

“No! No, no, of course not! It's just… you're just stronger than me because you're an earth pony and such; and I'm a unicorn and I'm light, because of magic and stuff.”

Octavia could have sworn she heard a 'squee' sound from what could only have been a sheepish smile.  

“Hmf. Nice save, but you're still in trouble.”

And then there came the sound of grunting, and then a knock on her window. Now morbidly curious, Octavia got up and walked over to see a very familiar-looking unicorn knocking. She set her pencil down on a nearby table, leaned over, and slid open the window. “Good afternoon,” she said pleasantly.

“Hi,” Lyra said, resting her hands against the siding. “We need to talk.”

“About what? And how did you get up here?” Octavia looked down and saw that Lyra was being held up by an earth pony. She pursed her lips. “That doesn't look particularly comfortable,” she observed. 

“Nope,” Bon Bon said with a slight grunt. “Not at all.”

Lyra looked down and scowled. “Can't you just enjoy the view while I have this conversation?”

Bon Bon harrumphed, but did crack a smile. 

Lyra turned back to Octavia. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you break up with Vinyl?”

Octavia raised an eyebrow. “That’s a little personal, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, kinda; but Vinyl’s been my friend since forever, so I think that gives me a little personal leeway.” She grinned again.

Octavia exhaled through her nose. “Let’s just say we had an interaction that shed doubt on her intentions.”

Lyra squinted. “Translation?”

“They had a falling out and now she thinks Vinyl is up to no good,” Bon Bon translated.

Lyra looked down and grinned. “Thank you.”

“I try.”

Lyra looked back up at Octavia and frowned. “What could she have possibly said?” she asked. “You're her whole world, Octavia. Trust me. She would never have said anything hurtful on purpose. Awkward, yeah—every other thing she says comes out awkward—but if she knew you had been hurt, she wouldn't let anything stand in her way of making it right.”

Octavia paused. Lyra certainly seemed earnest; though calling Vinyl's actions 'awkward' was a definite stretch.

Lyra continued. “She's currently laying on her bed, replaying all her dates with you in her head, trying to figure out what she did wrong. She doesn't even think it's you; she thinks it's her fault. She thinks it’s something she did. Maybe it was. I don’t know. But please, at least talk to her. Give her some closure. Whatever she did, I'm sure…” She paused, and then scowled. “Wait, don’t tell me. When she did the thing, she was wearing her sunglasses, her ears, and a tail.”

Octavia blinked. “Yes; how did you know?”

Lyra facepalmed hard, which forced Bon Bon to perform some fairly impressive footwork to keep her marefriend balanced on top. When she'd regained her balance, Lyra grumbled, “I told her. I told her that was a bad idea.” She looked up. “So, Vinyl’s an introvert.”

Octavia cracked a smile. “I noticed.”

“And so she's created this whole DJ Pon-3 persona to be someone she can't be. She lets herself go, but just for those instances. She doesn't even remember what she does when she puts those glasses on. It’s like she’s a whole other person.” Her voice dropped slightly. “Please. She's miserable without you. She hasn't showered, she barely eats, and she hasn’t even touched herself in days. Whatever she did as DJ Pon-3, she didn't mean it. She loves you, I promise. Please, go talk with her.”

Octavia bit her lower lip. “I'll need to think about this,” she finally said. 

Lyra nodded. “Ok. You do that.”

They waited for a moment. Octavia coughed lightly, but Lyra didn't move. 

“Are you done thinking yet?” Lyra asked hopefully.

Octavia raised an eyebrow. “You mean you wanted me to go now?”

“Sooner the better,” Lyra said with a wide smile. “She's really messed up. I'm getting worried about her. She's eating all the ice cream again.”

It was Bon Bon’s turn to facepalm.

Lyra waited five more seconds. “How about now?”

“Just about,” Octavia said, more to humor Lyra than anything else. 

They waited a moment longer. Bon Bon shuffled uncomfortably under Lyra’s weight.

Octavia exhaled and then nodded. “Very well. I’ll go speak with her.”

“Now?” Lyra prodded.

Octavia cracked a smile. “Very well; now. Anything else I can do for you?”

Lyra looked around, and then looked up sheepishly. “Yeah. Tell me, what’s the safest way down from here?”	

> Talking, Part 2: Octavia and Vinyl
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Vinyl stared despondently at her ice cream bowl. Lyra had recently restocked their freezer, and Vinyl was doing her best to empty it again. What had she done wrong? Was it because she had touched Octavia’s boob at the awards show? She hadn’t meant to; and Octavia hadn’t seemed to mind at the time. It was a nice boob. Firm but soft. And now she’d never get to touch it again. She sat up and glanced down at her own, much smaller chest, and then rested her forehead on the rim of the bowl. Not even close. She couldn’t even pretend they could compare.

At the knock on the door, Vinyl groggily raised her head up from the rim of the bowl of now-liquid ice cream. She set it back down, not really in the mood to talk to anyone right now. 

The knocking continued. Vinyl groaned, but didn't move. 

And then the door opened. Vinyl scowled. “Lyra, I'm not…” 

She paused. The mare standing there was tall with dark hair, purple eyes, a treble clef necklace hanging tastefully high on her neck, and a figure that still held Vinyl's record for most perfect body ever, even if it was concealed underneath a black button-up shirt and long, loose khaki skirt. Vinyl suddenly felt somewhat self-conscious of the fact that in her depression this week she had neglected to put on pants… and when was the last time she'd showered? Oh Celestia, she probably looked hideous! Why did Octavia have to come now?

“Hello, Vinyl,” Octavia said. 

“How'd you get in?” Vinyl demanded.

“Lyra lent me her key.”

“And where's she?”

“Still at my apartment with Bon Bon, I suppose. She was insistent that I visit now.”

Vinyl might have cracked a smile. “Then they're probably having sex in your apartment right now.”

Octavia snorted. “Oh, I sincerely doubt that,” she said with a smile. 



* * *



Lyra shivered slightly in the cool air; or, rather, the sudden sensation of coolness from having her pants suddenly pulled down to her ankles. 

Not that she was complaining, of course.

She was a little apprehensive, though. “D- don't you think Octavia would… would protest?” she asked, glancing around the room as if expecting Octavia to suddenly pop her head back in. 

“Octavia's not here right now,” Bon Bon growled as she reached up to finish undressing Lyra. “You're here, and I'm here, and that's all that matters right now.”

Lyra whimpered in pleasure at Bon Bon's tender touch. Once she had come out of her shell, Bon Bon had proven to be a rather aggressive lover, and Lyra was definitely not complaining about that, either. 



* * *



Vinyl snickered, then exhaled. “My roommate's sex life aside, why are you here?”

“I'm here to talk. Maybe also fix our relationship.”

“This is like the third time, Octavia,” Vinyl grumbled. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes, and her voice caught as she rested her head on the table. “I'm not sure how much more of this I can take.”

Octavia answered by sitting down on the chair next to her, reaching over, and gently massaging Vinyl's back. Vinyl wanted to protest or scoot away, but it really felt good, and she subconsciously arched her back to allow Octavia better access. If she were a cat, she would be purring incessantly. 

Too soon, she stopped, and Vinyl looked up. 

“Vinyl, let's be honest with each other. Is that alright?”

“Sure.”

“I'm not perfect. Ah, ah,” she warned, raising a hand to stall Vinyl's protests. “I'm not perfect. I overreact, and sometimes I let my emotions cloud my judgement.”

Vinyl felt a strange feeling in her chest, and it wasn't because she had eaten so much ice cream. It took her a few moments to realize that it was 'hope'. 

“I've had a few relationships in my time, sexual and platonic, with both genders. I thought I'd seen almost everything. And then I met you. You are something else entirely. I look forward to seeing you because every time I do, you make me smile because I know you are so happy to see me. You actually care about me and what I care about, and you even make an effort to hide it when you stare at my breasts.”

Vinyl blushed. “Y- you noticed that, huh?”

Octavia ignored that. “I find music everywhere, and let me tell you, Vinyl, there is a symphony in you.”

Vinyl frowned. “Then why-?”

“Your words as DJ Pon-3 reminded me of what my boyfriend—well, ex-boyfriend; if he’d ever show up so I could break up with him personally—would say. I admit, I was afraid.”

Vinyl blinked. “You? Afraid?”

“I was afraid you'd turn out like he did. Sweet at the beginning, unfeeling at the end.”

Vinyl straightened up. “Never!” she swore. “You're the most beautiful girl in the whole world, and it makes me so mad when I see him not treating you like the princess you are. You're smart, you're talented, you're refined and you're witty, and you're really, really hot. I'd…” Her voice trailed off. 

“Finish your sentence,” Octavia commanded kindly. “We're being honest with each other here, after all.”

Vinyl buried her face into the table. “And I'd give you anything you ever wanted for the opportunity to have sex with you,” she finished. 

Octavia chuckled lightly. Vinyl suddenly became aware of a light pressure on her hand. She looked up to see Octavia, smiling gently, her hand cupping over Vinyl’s. “I assure you, the price for my... intimate company is not so high. Just a good heart. Like yours.”

Vinyl blushed and ducked her head again. Octavia was too good, too pure for her!

Octavia continued. “Lyra explained some things about your DJ Pon-3 persona, and said to not take what you said as her personally, even if I did find the 'sugartits' label to be somewhat demeaning.”

Vinyl blushed harder and made a mental note to bake Lyra a cake. 

“I am not ignorant of the need to be someone else on stage. I, too, don a mask when needed.”

This made Vinyl raise her eyes. “You do?”

Octavia leaned in and met Vinyl’s eyes. Her eyes narrowed, a twisted half-smile crossed her lips, and her voice seemed to take on a husky quality. “If you were privy to some of my deepest, darkest fantasies, I dare say you would never be able to look me in the eyes ever again.”

“I'd be willing to try,” Vinyl whispered, subconsciously reaching down and adjusting the leg of her panties. 

“I'll keep that in mind.” Octavia sat back and exhaled slowly as she continued. “Also, I have a few other confessions to make. My boyfriend--ex-, if course--has some… how shall I put this? 'leverage' on me. We still can't be together,” Octavia murmured. 

“Don't make me write you a song and play it outside your window in the wee hours of the morning,” Vinyl threatened. “I totally will.”

“You'll do no such thing,” Octavia said firmly. “My neighbors are not the largest fans of music, and I am not about to stand by while you're arrested.” She paused. “Not that I wouldn't mind a song about me, though.”

“Don't tempt me,” Vinyl grinned impishly. “There's plenty of inspiration in you, too.”

One side of Octavia’s lips curled up in a half-smile. “Thank you. It's just… complicated, that’s all.”

"Complicated how?" Vinyl asked.

“I- I'd rather not discuss it right now,” Octavia said tactfully.

But Vinyl, having found that her goal was once again in reach, was not so easily dissuaded. Hope was in sight once more. Or maybe it was the fact that Octavia hadn't released her hand yet. Either way, she felt uncharacteristically bold. “Would you discuss it over lunch?” she suggested. 

Octavia made a few noncommittal motions with her head. “I suppose.”

“Back to the sandwich shop?”

“That's acceptable.”

“How about tomorrow? I'm a little… underdressed right now.” Vinyl glanced down at herself and blushed again.

Octavia cracked a real smile, and Vinyl was relieved to see it. “That's fine with me. See you tomorrow, then.” Octavia stood and Vinyl instinctively stood as well, but then she froze and crossed her hands over her crotch. 

Octavia cocked her head. “What's wrong?” she asked. 

“I'm kindof… wearing panties,” Vinyl pointed out, a light red blush tinging her cheeks. 

“That's nothing to be ashamed of,” Octavia said with a smile. She set her hands on her hips in front of her, and slowly crumpled her skirt, making it raise up painfully slowly. Vinyl was enthralled, unable to tear her eyes away as the hem of Octavia's skirt rose higher and higher, revealing first her calf-length stockings, then her bare legs. Finally, her fingers gripped the hem, and Vinyl’s patience was rewarded by the sight of a pair of high-cut black lacy panties gracing her hips, which she subtly rocked out out to give Vinyl a better look. “See?” Octavia said, apparently completely at ease with exposing her lower half. “I’m wearing panties, too.” She cocked her head and winked, drawing the moment out longer than strictly necessary, before abruptly dropping her skirt and turning around, swaying her hips as she headed out the door. 

It was no longer a slight blush. Vinyl found it very hard to be depressed when images of her marefriend’s lacy panties—she'd let her get such a good look!—were dancing across her mind. What if she were so confident with her own body? Could she ever be? Would she ever have the courage to wilfully and intentionally flash Octavia?

Maybe she could try it, except she would not have panties on underneath. Octavia's reaction would be priceless!

As the door shut behind Octavia, Vinyl vaguely became aware of the fact that her fingers were pressing against a sensitive part of her own anatomy through her panties; panties that she'd probably need to change. She quickly clenched her hands into fists and shook her head, dragging herself back to the present. Octavia had left, so she'd be going home. That meant Lyra would be back soon. And if Lyra was out there with Bon Bon, then she’d have time to…

Vinyl froze. Lyra was still at Octavia’s apartment. And if she knew her roommate—and she did—then there was a very good chance that Octavia was about to see a lot more of Lyra and Bon Bon than she ever wanted to.

She grimaced, and then grinned. First, a shower. Then, she’d be ready for Lyra when she got back.



* * *



After a five minute long (and slightly noisy) goodbye kiss at the doorstep, Lyra stumbled in, a goofy smile plastered across her face. She glanced over at the table, and found Vinyl, sitting at the table, holding a bowl of ice cream in her blue magic. She floated it over, making a valiant effort to not comment on the pair of panties poking out of her side pocket. “Protocol four?” she offered.

Lyra cracked a smile. “Protocol four,” she said, accepting the bowl and conjuring up a seafoam green spoon with a flick of her fingers.

“Sorry that it’s melted,” Vinyl said, though since the hand supporting her own bowl was glowing blue with a cooling spell, it was likely that she wasn't actually sorry. “Maybe next time you can hold off from sucking each other’s faces for so long.”

Lyra stuck her tongue out. She considered teasing Vinyl back, but she was just glad to see her roommate back to normal. “It wasn't just my face she was sucking, Vinyl. I can promise you that.”

Vinyl laughed as she conjured her own blue spoon. “You're a filthy little filly. You know this, right?”

Lyra grinned. “But you love me anyway.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Vinyl grinned with a mouth full of ice cream.

Lyra chuckled lightly. It was good to have Vinyl back.
> Desperate Times, Desperate Measures
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Octavia looked around the crowded sandwich shop, looking uncharacteristically subdued. “I'm not sure why I agreed to this,” she murmured. “Now there are more people around to hear my shame.”

“Yeah, but we're all friends!” Lyra said. “And friend share things. Except things like toothbrushes.”

Bon Bon coughed. 

“But they're here to help,” Vinyl said. “Just tell us what happened, and we'll do whatever we can.”

“Yeah,” Bon Bon said. “If some jerk is standing in the way of one of my fellow fillies getting laid, I'm all for slipping him a laxative-spiked truffle. People have died for less.”

All three other mares stared at her. 

“Slow down there, Tirek,” Lyra finally said. “How about we see what we're working with, first?”

Octavia took a breath to steady herself and spoke. “It was in the winter, and we were in his father's cabin. It snowed, as it often does in the Whitetail Mountains, and we were snowed in. We had plenty of supplies, but it wasn't long before cabin fever set in. One thing led to another, I had a bit too much to drink—and I've since sworn off alcohol because of this—and I somehow arrived at the conclusion that it would be fun to give him a private cello performance, you know?”

“And by 'private', I'm assuming you don't just mean he was the only one in the audience?” Bon Bon asked, eyebrow raised. 

Octavia gave a wry smile. “I performed wearing only my red crotchless panties and my snow boots,” she admitted. 

Vinyl quickly brought a hand up to her nose as she felt fluid begin to flow. Hopefully that was just a spontaneous runny nose or her body's reaction to the pepper jack cheese in her sandwich and not a nosebleed. Though she was fairly certain that that only happened in stories, she couldn't help but check. 

Also, she now had new fodder for her night tonight in the form of red crotchless panties. She wondered if Octavia still had them. She also wondered if she'd show them off for her, too. Seeing Octavia wearing them (and preferably only them) suddenly rose to the top of her bucket list.

Octavia continued, “Well, he thought it would be fun to take some personal pictures during my performance. At the time I didn't mind—I was a bit drunk and at the time sure I loved him; I trusted him.” She gave a wry smile. “I suppose my mother was right about me coming to regret any drink I took.” She turned back to Vinyl. “That's the real reason I left that night. He threatened to develop and publish those pictures.”

Bon Bon shrugged. “Yeah, and?”

Octavia was about to answer, but Vinyl cut her off. “Look, when you're a performer like Octavia, reputation is everything. If those pictures get out, doors are going to close. They won't admit it; but it'll happen. 'I don't know if a mare like that is the best choice to represent my establishment, my orchestra, my museum, my… whatever'!” She turned to Octavia. “I swear, I will do whatever I can to make sure those pictures never get printed, even if I have to steal the camera myself!”

Octavia paused. “Really?”

“Yeah! I know I'll think of something.”

Octavia pulled Vinyl into a hug. “Thank you, Vinyl,” she whispered. “You truly are the greatest thing to happen to me.”

Vinyl blushed as she returned the hug. Compliments from Octavia always made her happy. Now she was even more determined to get those pictures. She just needed to think of something. 



*  *  *



Vinyl threw her head back on the pillow in defeat. “I can't think of anything,” she groaned. “At least, nothing that won't get me arrested; and honestly, look at me. I would get eaten alive in prison.”

Bon Bon and Lyra shrugged. “Me neither,” they said in unison. 

Lyra stood up and stretched. “Well, I'm going to go down to Little Emperor's and get some pizza with anchovies; do you two want anything?”

Vinyl made a disgusted face. “Why? You always get the craziest dreams when you eat that junk.”

“I know. But I need a crazy idea to threaten that dolt with to not publish those pictures and fast, otherwise you'll never get to have sex with Octavia.” She turned to Bon Bon and ran a finger down her side. “So... Wanna stay the night and save me from my dreams?”

Vinyl raised her pointer finger in protest. “It is not just about sex!” she squeaked; but her voice betrayed her innermost thoughts. 

Bon Bon shrugged at Lyra. “Sure, I guess. Just brush your teeth real good before you come to bed.” She turned to face Vinyl. “Maybe it's not all about sex,” Bon Bon conceded, “but she totally wants you.”

“She does?” Vinyl said hopefully. She knew this, of course (or at the very least, hoped it); but hearing it from someone else was always a pleasant affirmation. 

“Trust me. She wants to make sweet, sweet music with you; and by that I mean she wants you moaning her name into the night as she plays your body with her tongue.”

Lyra coughed as Vinyl's brain visibly overloaded at the thought. “Too far, Bonsie.”



*  *  *



Pizza night was fun but fairly uneventful (aside from Vinyl's attempt to drink a whole packet of garlic sauce), and after Lyra had cleaned up, they headed to bed. 

Vinyl pulled on her pajama pants, and turned around to see Bon Bon without a shirt on. She couldn't help but squint in confusion. 

Bon Bon felt her gaze and glared back. “What?” she demanded as she lay down. “The girls need to breathe!”

“But Bonsie,” Lyra protested as she lay down nearly on top of her, “you can't just leave those hanging out like that.” She placed a hand over each of them and gave Bon Bon a kiss on the lips. “There. Now you're modest.”

Vinyl watched in morbid curiosity as Lyra's hands seemed unable to remain still. Within seconds, Vinyl could easily tell that it was about to go a lot further than just simple fondling that night, so she lit her hand and pulled her pillow to her with a sharp flick of her wrist, and she quickly left to go sleep on the couch. 



*  *  *



Vinyl awoke to the sound of Lyra screaming. At first, she was tempted to just curse Bon Bon’s fingers and/or tongue, and grunt and roll over and place her pillow over her head. 

Then her eyes snapped open as she remembered that Lyra wasn't a screamer. 

She burst into the room, magic glowing in her hands. Bon Bon was holding Lyra's shoulders, trying to comfort her hysteric marefriend. 

“What? What happened? What?” Bon Bon demanded. 

Lyra pushed Bon Bon back on her back. “What do you love to do?” she shrieked. 

Bon Bon paused. “Is 'you' the correct answer?”

“No! Well, yes; but no!” She grabbed at Bon Bon's cutie mark. “What does this stand for?”

Bon Bon gave her a flat look. “Chocolates. Making chocolates. The best chocolates you've ever had in your life chocolates. Why?”

Lyra sighed with relief and buried her face in Bon Bon's naked chest as she hugged Bon Bon tightly. Vinyl felt a brief twinge of jealousy that she didn't have her own partner's naked chest to bury her face in. 

“I had a dream that chocolate was banned worldwide and we had to go underground,” Lyra said, eyes wide, gripping Bon Bon tightly, still traumatized from what she had dreamed. “Even mentioning chocolate was illegal.”

Bon Bon gasped, horrified. She hugged Lyra back and began gently stroking her hair. She leaned down and whispered comfortingly in her ear. “It's ok, Lyra, it’s ok. It was just a dream.” She gently kissed her on her forehead, right over her magic trails. “There will always be chocolate, I swear.”

Vinyl sighed and dropped her hand. “That was a long shot, but it was our only real idea. Now what are we going to do?” she asked. 

Bon Bon exhaled, as if steeling herself for something, and then looked up at Vinyl. “If you're really desperate, I might be able to call in a favor. Do you know a girl named Pinkie Pie?”

Vinyl shook her head. 

“She's a notorious prankster and party-thrower. She usually does parties in Ponyville, where I used to live; but she does things I can't explain. I bet she'd be willing to help a sister out… for the right price.”

“What kind of price?” Vinyl asked, mentally reviewing her bank account. She could probably cut back on glowsticks for her next couple shows if she needed to, and maybe they could buy the less expensive ice cream for a little while if she got truly desperate.

Bon Bon shrugged. “It could be as simple as singing a silly song with her. Pinkie is one of those people you just have to meet for yourself.”

Vinyl was unsure if she should be comforted by this or not, but desperate times called for desperate measures. “Then let's meet.”



*  *  *



There came a knock on the door, repeated no less than twelve rapid times. Vinyl frowned, but she hadn’t even managed to lift herself off the couch before the knocking came again. Now mildly intrigued and annoyed, Vinyl continued and opened the door.

She somewhat regretted this decision when a blast of confetti hit her in the face. She sputtered incoherently as she stumbled backwards, scrabbling madly at her face to try and clear it.

“Pinkie, I said go easy on her!” Bon Bon protested.

“That was easy,” the girl who must have been Pinkie insisted. 

Vinyl managed to clear her vision and saw Pinkie Pie for the first time. She was an earth pony, like Bon Bon. She was a little bit chubby, also like Bon Bon. But unlike Bon Bon, she wore the widest smile Vinyl had ever seen, and her hair was huge and poofy and bright pink and nearly doubled the size of her head. She held out a tray of cupcakes. “Cupcake?” she offered.

Vinyl (understandably) felt somewhat assaulted and rather uncomfortable, and so she tried to tactfully back away. “Well, you know, I…” Her eyes caught Bon Bon’s, and Bon Bon almost angrily nodded, none-too-discreetly.

“I… I… uh… can’t say no to a cupcake?” Vinyl tried as she reached out for one.

Bon Bon exhaled in noticeable relief, but Pinkie didn’t seem to notice.

Vinyl took a tentative bite, and was pleased to discover that it really was a tasty cupcake.

Apparently taking this as an invitation, Pinkie barged into the house right past Vinyl and commandeered the table, knocking Vinyl’s papers onto the floor. Vinyl whimpered in protest, and Pinkie interpreted that as Vinyl needing another cupcake and proceeded to unwrap one and shove it into Vinyl’s mouth.

Two cupcakes later, she had finished. Vinyl's eyes widened as she looked over Pinkie's plans. They were done in crayon, and were somewhat theoretical in nature, but she couldn't argue with the end results. She swallowed the cupcake she was currently eating and grinned. “Pinkie, if you can pull this off, I swear I will DJ for free at any of your parties.”

Pinkie put her face in Vinyl's face, making the introverted girl jump back slightly. “Really? Because there's a ton of parties I have planned, and even more I don't have planned. Are you ready for all of that? Can you deliver on your promise?”

Vinyl nodded. “I promise. You get me Octavia, and I'll do any party for you.”

Pinkie faced her. “Pinkie Promise,” she ordered, performing a strange series of actions. 

Vinyl did the strange motions, making sure she didn't poke herself in the eye. 

Pinkie chuckled deviously. “Perfect. Now, for starters, I'm gonna need some balloons. Lots and lots of balloons…”
	
> It's My Party
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	To say Octavia's ex-coltfriend was confused at the scene outside his apartment was an understatement. It looked like an enormous block party, and the number of people was only outnumbered by the sheer number of balloons that formed arches and decorations. In fact, it almost looked like a wedding.

“What's going on?” he shouted at the nearest mare. 

She turned around and grinned widely. She wore a white, frilly short-sleeved collared shirt with a bright pink bow tie, and pink suspenders holding up a tiny set of jean shorts. She held out a hand. “Hi! I'm Pinkie Pie!”

He did not return it. “I don't care. What's going on here?”

Pinkie put her thumbs behind her suspenders. “This is Octavia's breakup party,” she said cheerfully. 

“She's breaking up with me? Why?” He glared, scanning for Octavia, and his eyes fell on a cake with his picture on it, decorated with a large red X. 

“Because you're a tool!” Pinkie proclaimed, throwing her arms wide. “You're overprotective, you're controlling, you're manipulative, you’re childish, you ignore her, you don’t care about her feelings, and you think letting her watch you jack off counts as foreplay!”

His jaw dropped, but then he recovered quickly. How had she known that?

Pinkie looked down at her wrist, which bore a watch crudely drawn in pen. “Ooh! It's almost time!” She darted to the front, adjusted her tie, held up a book, and whistled loudly. The crowd quieted and turned to face her. She pulled a microphone out from somewhere, tapped on it to test it, and when she was rewarded with the sound of the tap from the speakers, she cleared her throat and began. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to free a very, very lovely mare from the bonds of a bad relationship. Octavia?”

Octavia stepped forward, and there were a few in the crowd who couldn't hold back a few claps and whistles. She wore a long red dress that hung off her shoulders and sparkled in the sunlight, and she held a bouquet of flowers that seemed just a little bit off. 

“Octavia,” Pinkie began. “Do you solemnly swear to do what's best for yourself and treat yourself with all the respect a fine mare like yourself deserves?”

Octavia cracked a smile. “I do.”

“Then by the power vested in me by this license I found in a box of cracker jacks, I pronounce you… free!” She accentuated this declaration by throwing her arms wide and bouncing.

On cue, Octavia pulled a little string on the base of her bouquet and threw it into the air, and it exploded in a bright burst of purple fireworks. The crowd murmured in approval, and many slow-clapped. 

“And now, the ceremonial liberation!” Pinkie presented her with a large picture of her coltfriend and a comically large match-shaped lighter. Octavia chuckled as she took it and lit it on fire, and the crowd cheered once more. 

Her now ex-coltfriend snorted as he slunk away. Burning his picture? That's ok. He had some pictures of his own. 



* * *



“Pinkie really knows how to throw a party, huh?” Bon Bon asked. 

Lyra was carrying no less than three brownies in her magic. “Oh, 'eah,” she said, revealing a fourth in her mouth. “I cou' get use' 'o this.”

Pinkie grinned. “Thanks!”

Lyra frowned as she swallowed. “Weren't you just over by the music?” Indeed, Pinkie had been looking over Vinyl's shoulder at the turntables not two seconds earlier. 

“I have no idea!” Pinkie said brightly. 

Octavia sidled up to Pinkie. “What about the… uh… pictures?” she asked apprehensively. She couldn’t help but notice that her ex-coltfriend was conspicuously absent.

“Just leave that to Auntie Pinkie,” Pinkie said with a wide smile as she patted Octavia on the head. “She'll take care of it.”

“Auntie?” Octavia repeated dubiously. 

“Well, I'm not your uncle!” Pinkie retorted, thrusting out and pointing demonstratively at her breasts. 

Octavia opened her mouth, then shut it again. That seemed to be a common reaction around this mare. She stood by her first impression: Pinkie Pie was a few violins short of an orchestra.

“Welp, I've got cake to serve! Catch you later!” And she skipped off to the table, pulled a large spatula from apparently behind her back, and began divvying up the cake. 

One side of Octavia's mouth curled up into a pained smile. Perhaps she would have to start looking into a career change sooner than previously expected. 



* * *



The camera tech stepped out from the back and made eye contact with the person standing there. “You the guy with the disposable?”

Octavia's now ex-coltfriend nodded and walked back towards the photo counter. “You got my pictures for me?”

The camera tech shook his head. “Sorry, not going to happen. We’ll refund you-”

“You said you could do explicit pictures,” he said accusingly. 

“Oh, it's not that. Your film is ruined.”

“What? What do you mean, ruined?” he demanded. 

The tech held up the roll. “It's all overexposed. And it’s caked with something that smells like frosting.”

“Frosting?!”

The worker shrugged and set the camera back down. “I don't know what all you're into, and I really don't care. All I know is, you're not getting any pictures from this film roll.”

He let out a screech of rage. “Do you know who I am?”

The worker's attitude shifted as his eyes narrowed. He did not get paid enough to put up with attitude like this. “No, and I don't care about that, either. Now if you're not going to buy anything, please move along.”

He leaned forward. “Maybe I'll come smash your machine, what happens then?” he threatened. 

His threat was interrupted by a whimper. He turned around to see a little pegasus colt, wearing a tank top that had been pulled up slightly to better show off what must have been a new cutie mark of a feather, and holding tightly to a camera with the strap around his neck. Clearly, he was hoping to get some pictures developed as well, and losing the machine would definitely put a damper on his day. 

“Shove off,” he snarled, pushing him back. 

He turned back around to continue threatening the tech, but a snort that was loud enough to be at home in a bullpen ruffled his hair. He turned around and came face to face—or more accurately, face to pectorals—with what was undoubtedly the largest (and angriest) pegasus he had ever seen, possibly the older brother of the little one. He was too shocked to even resist as the pegasus grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and his belt, physically lifted him over his head, carried him across the floor and placed him head-first into a nearby trash can. 

Even with his hearing muffled, he could hear the celebratory “Yeah!” and high five from the two pegasi outside. 

He sighed as he felt something wet seep into his hair. This day just kept getting better and better.



* * *



Vinyl looked around the edge of the alleyway. “Are you sure this is such a good idea?” she asked. 

Octavia shrugged. “Pinkie said we should come here at this time, and that it would be important for closure and ending.” She paused. “And then she shoved an entire slice of cake into her mouth and told me a joke about zebras and newspapers, so I'm not entirely sure how serious she was.”

Vinyl leaned against the dirty brick wall and shoved her hands into her pockets. “She seemed nice,” she said with a shrug.

“She seemed crazy,” Octavia snorted. “I sincerely doubt she will be able to do anything about those pictures, and, lovely dress aside, it was quite foolish of me to so blindly trust her.”

Vinyl hemmed a bit. “I dunno, I think-”

“I have already begun mentally preparing myself for less than desirable occupations. Currently, I am debating the merits and shortfalls of opening a little stand and selling authentic fish and chips. Or perhaps becoming a stripper.”

Vinyl bit her lower lip. 

Octavia's eyes narrowed, but she couldn't prevent one half of her mouth curling up ever so slightly. “You're imagining me as a stripper, aren't you?”

Vinyl was; but she was spared having to come up with a convincing lie when a very familiar stallion stormed out of the photo shop and threw a camera to the ground. He then stomped on it no less than five times and then kicked it against the wall. 

Vinyl blinked. “I'd hate to see him actually upset,” she said. 

Hearing a voice, he looked up and his eyes narrowed even further when he saw Octavia. He marched over and stuck his finger up in her face. “I know you're behind this. I don't know what you did, or how you did it; but know this, Octavia: I will skunk you if you so much as look at another stallion.”

Octavia smiled. “That won't be a problem.” She took Vinyl by the hand. “You see, you've cured me of any love for stallions.”

He could only stare. He wanted to be angry, really he did; but seeing two girls holding hands messed with his brain. 

And then his brain fried completely when Octavia leaned over and gave Vinyl a passionate kiss on the lips. 

When Octavia pulled back, she smirked as she noticed his stunned state. She delivered a firm palm heel strike to his forehead, and he keeled over backwards and fell to the asphalt. 

“Come on, Vinyl,” she said with a wide smile, taking her by the hand again. “Let's go home.”

And Vinyl was only too happy to oblige. 
> Promises Fulfilled
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Lyra and Bon Bon sat at the mall, enjoying lunch together during Bon Bon's lunch break. Bon Bon, while quite amorous in private, was much more reserved in public; and so she sat stoically upright across from Lyra, not even trying to look romantically into her eyes. However, that didn't stop Lyra from playing footsie with her underneath the table. Though Bon Bon staunchly tried to ignore her, the tiny smile that flitted around her lips showed that she was enjoying the attention. 

Suddenly Lyra stopped. Bon Bon frowned at the sudden lack of contact, but then she saw what Lyra was looking at. 

“Hey, Octavia,” Lyra said slowly. “What are you doing here?” 

"Yeah. This isn't exactly your normal stomping grounds,” Bon Bon agreed, eyeing Octavia's outfit. Her collared shirt with her signature pink bow tie and black vest made her look somewhat overdressed for the mall, especially this somewhat-greasy food court. 

Octavia shrugged. “Perhaps not; but then again, I'm not often in the habit of stomping places.” She demonstratively held out one foot, showing off her high-heeled shoe. Lyra had to agree that it was a fancy shoe and most definitely not for stomping in. 

Octavia set her foot down. “But I'm not here for that. I came to speak to you. Might I trouble you for a favor, Lyra?”

Lyra frowned briefly. What could Octavia want from her? “Sure. What?”

“Could you please be absent from your home this Friday night?”

Lyra considered this. “I suppose. Why?”

Octavia shrugged. “Let's just say that I need to make good on a promise.”

Lyra tried to think of any promises Octavia had made. Only one came to mind, and she brightened. “Is Vinyl going to get laid?”

Octavia cracked a smile. “That's really up to her; but I'll do what I can to see that we both end up… shall we say… satisfied.”

Lyra stuck out her hand. “Consider it done,” she said. She then turned to Bon Bon. “So, Bonsie, about this weekend… ”

Bon Bon sighed dramatically, even as a smile crossed her face. “I can't just leave my marefriend sexiled on the streets, now, can I? I suppose you can come over this weekend.” A devious smirk flitted across her face. “But don't bother packing pajamas.”

Octavia smiled as Lyra excitedly bicycle-kicked her feet in the air. It was all settled, then.



* * *



Vinyl let out a relieved sigh as she walked through the door and dropped her bags on the ground. “Lyra, I'm home!” she called as she kicked the door shut behind her. 

Lyra didn't answer. 

“Lyra?” she tried again.

Still no answer. Grumbling something about Bon Bon foalnapping her roommate, Vinyl walked into the living room and froze. 

There stood Octavia, with her cello in one hand and the bow in the other. She wore her pink bow tie… and that was all she wore. 

Vinyl's breathing grew ragged as she took in Octavia's body. Her skin was smooth and perfect. Her breasts looked full and round, and her nipples (which had obviously been exposed to the cool night for some time now) were perfectly sized. Her pubic hair had been immaculately trimmed, making her look classy even while naked. Vinyl couldn't figure out which part of her body to focus on first. This was even better than her fantasies. This was real. And it was a beautiful, beautiful sight. 

Octavia smiled, making no move to cover herself. “Good evening, Vinyl. Have a seat; you're just in time for the performance.”

Still in shock and still breathing hard, Vinyl walked over and sat on the couch, her eyes never leaving Octavia. 

Octavia grinned impishly. “And if you have to take care of something personal during the show…” here she gestured towards Vinyl's belt with the tip of her bow, and Vinyl blushed as she realized she was already very aroused, “I promise, I won't mind.”



* * *



The last note lingered on until Octavia finally released her bow. 

Vinyl stood and clapped. She had no other option. Octavia's performance had been flawless. Even completely naked, she had remained in control of the music the entire time. 

Octavia bent over to set her bow down, then turned and knelt to rest her cello on the ground. Vinyl had to admit she looked just as good from behind. She wondered if there was any way to keep Octavia naked as long as possible.

Too soon, Octavia straightened up and looked at Vinyl. “I don't suppose you'd consider letting me clean up a bit in your bathroom? I... er... seem to have enjoyed the show as well.”

Vinyl felt another urge overtake her. Such class! She was making no movement to cover her body or wipe away the thin trails of liquid running down her legs, but she still carried an aura that commanded respect. 

“Sure, I don't mind if you shower,” Vinyl said. “If I get to watch.” Her eyes widened and she slapped her hands over her mouth. Had she really just said that? Would Octavia agree to that? Maybe she would just shake her head in disappointment, say no, and get then dressed and go home but no it had been such a great night-

Octavia raised an eyebrow as she placed her hands on her hips, apparently still unconcerned about her current state of undress. “Is that all? I had expected you to come in and shower with me, as you appear to need one, too; but if all you want to do is watch, I suppose that is also acceptable.”

Vinyl's jaw dropped and her brain seemed to misfire repeatedly as she tried to process what Octavia had just said. “I- you mean- but- you- I- together-”

Octavia smiled and reached up for her neck. With a few deft motions, she undid her bow tie, and set it down on a small table nearby. Now completely naked, she paused just long enough for Vinyl to get a good look, and then she leaned down and undid the button to Vinyl's pants, gently pulling them to the floor. Her panties required a little bit of effort to remove, as wet fabric tends to stick to skin, but they were soon removed. Octavia crossed her arms and grabbed the hem of Vinyl's shirt, and instinctively Vinyl raised her arms. Gently but firmly, Octavia uncrossed her hands and lifted her shirt off, tossing it aside. Vinyl briefly wished she had put on a different bra this morning--she'd been wearing this one for three days straight now!--but that thought was banished as Octavia moved again. She stepped closer to Vinyl, stopping herself a few inches away from Vinyl's breasts. Vinyl hoped desperately that Octavia would lean forward and let their breasts touch, but Octavia kept herself and her breasts tantalizingly out of reach as she reached back behind Vinyl, her fingers brushing gently against Vinyl's skin as she reached for her bra strap. With her right hand, she unclipped Vinyl's bra, and then rested that hand on her sternum. Vinyl inhaled sharply through her teeth as Octavia gently caressed her, her fingers briefly brushing against her breasts before she hooked the front of her bra and gently slid it off. Vinyl shifted her shoulders, letting Octavia finish her work of stripping her.

When Vinyl was as naked as she was, Octavia leaned forward and gently took Vinyl by the hand. She stepped closer, this time letting their bodies touch as she whispered in her ear. “Maybe, when we're finished cleaning up, we can try some of my fantasies, too,” she suggested. 

Vinyl nodded dumbly, unable to force words out but still wilfully consenting to whatever Octavia wanted to do to her. With her. To her. Either way was fine with her.

With a knowing (and somewhat predatory) smile, Octavia squeezed her hand comfortingly, and then slowly led the dazed unicorn into the bathroom. 
> New Beginnings
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Bright and early the next morning, Vinyl Scratch woke up, stretched, twisted her back until it popped, and rubbed her eyes. What a wonderful dream she had had last night. 

Too bad that's all it was. A dream. 

She stumbled out of bed and headed over to the bathroom, feeling strangely sore for some reason. She managed to make it to the sink, and she leaned down to splash water on her face to try and help herself wake up.

But when she looked up, she froze. She wasn't wearing a stitch of clothing. Her hair would have made a rat's nest look organized. And to top it all off, little red bite marks and bruises covered her neck, and a few had appeared on other parts of her body. 

She looked back towards her bed and gasped. 

Octavia slumbered peacefully on her bed. She shifted slightly in her sleep at the sudden sound, and then settled down again. 

“It wasn't a dream,” Vinyl breathed. She'd slept with Octavia! She'd really slept with Octavia! She'd been naked and then both of them had been naked and they'd slept together and there had been exploring and caressing and squeezing and biting and…! 

…and now what? Vinyl scratched her head. First things first, probably clothes. Then breakfast. That's how it worked in all the books, right? The lovely lady woke up to the smell of breakfast cooking.

But if she made breakfast, did that make her the stallion or the mare of their relationship? She paused to think about this. Sure, she was up first; but Octavia had definitely been the more dominant of the two last night… 

Vinyl shook her head and decided to dwell on that later. She headed for her closet and looked through her shirts. She shook her head again. Nothing skimpy enough. She really wanted to show off her trophies from last night, so she slid over to Pon-3’s section and chose a revealing tank top. She settled on grabbing a simple pair of panties for her bottom half and called it good. As she slid them on, she cracked a smile at the red bite mark high on the inside of her thigh. 

It had been a good night.

It wasn't long before the kitchen was full of the sounds and smells of cooking. Vinyl flipped the eggs with a quick flick of her hand. She paused as they sizzled. It suddenly occurred to her that while she had clean clothing, Octavia wouldn't; this wasn't her house, and Octavia was a bit larger than Vinyl (in more ways than one). Any attempt to wear her clothes would end in failure because they would simply be far too small for her. 

Not that that would be a bad sight or anything. 

A movement behind her made her look, and she saw Octavia there, her hair still shimmering wet from her shower, and wearing a white robe that looked familiar. 

“I hope you don't mind,” Octavia said, “but my clothes aren't quite done being washed yet.”

“Not a problem,” Vinyl said. “It looks good on you.” 

Octavia smiled. “Thank you.”

“Got that at one of my crazier shows,” Vinyl reminisced. “The club had hired a new guy to do the pyrotechnics and he'd aimed a couple things wrong. My clothes kindof caught fire and I needed something to wear home.”

Octavia's eyes widened. “You were ok, I assume?”

“Yep. Just tore them off and finished the show.”

Octavia nodded slightly. “I see.”

“Yeah,” Vinyl said as she finished flipping the eggs. “Turns out DJ Pon-3 doesn't mind being topless in front of an audience.” She paused. “She does mind being fined for public indecency, though. I think she's still kindof bitter about that.” She lifted a plate with her magic and set it in front of Octavia. “I'm sorry. I was going to make you an omelette but even with my magic I kindof just crushed it when I tried to flip it and I'm not even sure how. I mean, I handle vinyl records all the time and I don't break them; but…”

Octavia placed a finger on Vinyl's lips. “Scrambled eggs are just fine, Vinyl. Thank you.”

“Right.” Vinyl blushed slightly. 

There was a pause. Octavia raised an eyebrow. “I assume you made some for you, too? Or did you just want to watch me eat?”

“No, no; I've got more,” Vinyl said, jerking a thumb back towards the stove. Octavia saw that the carton of eggs was still mostly full. “Just... kinda got distracted.” 

Octavia waggled her eyebrows, a playful gesture that seemed almost out of place on her usual stoic expression. “I was going to say, you've already seen the kinds of things I can do with my mouth.” 

“Have I ever.” Vinyl couldn't suppress a little whimper. She brought her hand up and gently brushed against one of the marks Octavia had left on her last night. Feeling suddenly awkward, Vinyl quickly spun back into the kitchen and whipped up some eggs for herself, and together they ate in silence for a while. 

As much as she enjoyed seeing Octavia like this, and as much fun as she'd had last night, VInyl still felt something was off. Maybe it was too quiet. Was Octavia waiting for her to say something? What was she supposed to say? 

“So could we, like, do this again sometime?” Vinyl asked. 

In hindsight, it probably wasn't that.

Octavia paused. “Having sex, or having breakfast?” she asked, an eyebrow raised playfully.

“Se- both…” Vinyl exhaled. “Sex,” she admitted sheepishly.

“You enjoyed it that much, did you?” Octavia asked with a cheeky grin. 

Vinyl looked down. “So much,” she confirmed with a quiet squeak. “You were everything I thought you'd be and so much more.” 

A shifting noise made her look up. Octavia had lifted her left foot and rested it on the chair. “Certainly, Vinyl. I didn't expect this to be a one-time thing, and I doubt you did, either. Am I right in assuming you would not be opposed to doing this again?” she invited. 

Vinyl blushed bright red and averted her eyes as it became apparent that Octavia was not wearing panties (or anything, really) under her robe. 

“Vinyl,” Octavia said, her tone slightly scolding. “Vinyl, look at me. We're together now, right? Girlfriends, right?” 

“Yeah,” Vinyl said. It was so nice to hear that word.

“I know almost all of your secrets, and you mine. I’ve seen you at your most naked, at your most exposed; and you’ve seen me at mine, right?”

Vinyl had done a lot more than just seeing Octavia's nakedness, that was for sure; but Vinyl answered with a simple, “Yeah…?”

“So we have nothing left to hide.” She made no move to cover herself or shift her robe. “Furthermore, what's mine is yours, right?”

Vinyl glanced around at the table. She briefly wondered if that meant Octavia wanted to move in. She wouldn't mind sharing a bed, but it might get a little crowded in here. Still, she answered again, “Yeah…?”

“That means you have a duty as a girlfriend to touch me, Vinyl.” She shifted her right knee, moving the lapel of the robe aside and subtly exposing herself even further. “Especially when I'm offering myself to you like this. If you don't, I'll be sad. You wouldn't want me to be sad, would you?”

Vinyl wasn't sure that that made complete logical sense, but she wasn't about to argue that point. She shook her head, though her eyes remained focused on Octavia.

Octavia suddenly abandoned any form of subtlety, reaching up and undoing the knot of her belt with her hand. “Come on, Vinyl,” Octavia invited, her voice low and husky. She shrugged her shoulders, letting the now-loose robe slowly slide down her body. Vinyl tried to avert her eyes and not ogle her breasts, and as she did she caught sight of scratch marks on her side and back. 

Vinyl frowned. “I didn't hurt you, did I?” she asked. 

Octavia barked a laugh. She stood up, and placed her hands on her hips as her robe (which now didn't cover much of anything) slid down to her waist. “Vinyl, Vinyl, Vinyl… I'm standing here offering you morning sex, and you're worried about if you hurt me last night?”

Vinyl blushed and looked down, but she was surprised when Octavia dropped the robe completely and suddenly wrapped Vinyl in a tight hug, gripping her waist with one hand and digging her other into Vinyl's hair. Vinyl paused for a moment to reflect on how nice it was to have her hair touched, and how much nicer it felt to press against Octavia when only one of them was wearing clothes. 

Octavia gently leaned back enough to kiss Vinyl on the lips. “You didn't,” she whispered, “but thank you for asking.” She kissed Vinyl on the forehead, right over her magic trails, and Vinyl inhaled sharply. Every unicorn loved being kissed on the magic trails. “You're so kind, so generous. Never change, Vinyl, my precious little unicorn.” Then she paused and looked down. “You can change your clothes, though.”

“And by that you mean take them off?” Vinyl tried. 

Octavia smiled as she stepped back to allow her room to do just that. “Now you've got it!”

A wide smile spread across Vinyl's face as she crossed her arms and reached for the hem of her tank top. “Never let it be said I didn't drop everything when my marefriend wanted me,” she said. 

Octavia’s jaw dropped, and she punched her lightly in the shoulder. “You terrible punster, you!”

“You know you liked it,” Vinyl said, sticking her tongue out as she removed her shirt and then lifted it over her head. 

Octavia took advantage of her temporary blindness to attack her from behind, and Vinyl giggled as Octavia tickled her; but then her breath caught in her throat as Octavia's fingers slid down her body, pressing gently into her skin every couple of inches or so until they finally found their mark. 

“Not as much as I'm going to enjoy hearing you call out my name,” Octavia whispered into her ear. “Say it.” 

Vinyl shuddered as her breath came in steadily more raggedly. She got the distinct impression that she was going to enjoy this, too. “O- Octavia,” she breathed. 

“Good,” Octavia whispered.

Needless to say, breakfast soon lay forgotten. 



* * *



It was late in the afternoon when Lyra knocked, and then, when there was no answer, slowly opened the door to her apartment. “Vinyl,” she called. “You in here?” 

She was half expecting to hear sex noises, but there was no sound. Mildly comforted, she entered and waited, but there was still no reply. She shrugged. “They probably went out for lunch,” she said. “Come in, Bon Bon!” 

Bon Bon came into the house and headed towards the kitchen while Lyra headed to the bathroom. Bon Bon was just retrieving the ingredients to make Lyra some delicious fudge when she heard Lyra burst out laughing from over by the bedroom door. Frowning, Bon Bon set the sugar down and headed over, and there she saw something she hadn't expected. 

Vinyl Scratch and Octavia lay cuddled together on her bed, sleeping soundly. If it hadn't been for how close they were and the fact that they both were naked, it would have looked as though they had had a colossal fight instead of morning sex.

“Aww, they look so adorable!” Lyra said, clasping her hands together against her cheek. 

Bon Bon shook her head as she took in the bite marks and bruises and scratch lines that were scattered across both mares' bodies. “They look like abuse victims,” she corrected. “Some people are into some weird stuff.”

Lyra nudged her with her hip. “Says the mare who wants to drizzle chocolate on me and lick it off,” she retorted playfully. 

Bon Bon rolled her eyes as she turned to stomp away. “I'm not even going to dignify that with a response,” she said. 

Lyra laughed as she left, but then she became serious again. “You, uh, are still going to do it, though, right, Bonsie? The whole drizzle chocolate on me thing?”

She got no answer. 

“Bonsie?” Lyra asked nervously. She turned to follow her marefriend. “B- Bonsie?” Her pace quickened into a full-out chase, and her cry grew slightly more desperate. “Bon Bon!”

> Stinger 1: Mix-up
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Octavia walked into Vinyl's music studio, where she found Vinyl reviewing one of her songs, bobbing her head to the beat as she listened carefully for any mistakes. Normally, Octavia wouldn't interrupt her while she was working; but this was not a normal situation. She leaned over and tapped her on the shoulder. 

Vinyl quickly pulled her headphones off. “Hey, Tavi,” she said. “What's up?”

“So I was looking at the number one hits list again,” Octavia started. 

“And I bet I know whose name you didn't see!” Vinyl chortled. 

Octavia didn't smile. “I saw a very familiar name in the number one spot.”

“Did you?” Vinyl hadn't checked the newspaper recently, so she had no idea where Octavia was going with this. She interlaced her fingers and tapped her thumbs together. Octavia didn't sound so happy. 

“The song attached to her name is about a beautiful mare with hair as dark as the night, possessing musical talents, a love of ice cream, and ended with a rather well-described and disturbingly explicit request for sexual intercourse. Would you happen to know anything about that?”

Vinyl's eyes widened. “Oh, no,” she breathed. 

“Oh, no?” Octavia raised an eyebrow. “That's all you're going to-?”

Vinyl nearly fell off her chair as she scrambled for something in a lower drawer. She pulled a cd case out from the bottom underneath a stack of contracts, fumbled as she tried to get it open, and shoved the cd into the second slot of her recorder. She hit play and Octavia could hear an upbeat song coming from her headphones. Vinyl instantly recognized it and placed her head in her hands. “Oh n- I didn't mean to!” Vinyl whimpered. “I was going to give that song to you for your birthday! I recorded another song—this song—and I must have mixed up the cds when I went to my meeting!” She turned and looked pitifully at Octavia. “I didn't mean to, I swear. I'm so sorry.”

Octavia felt her anger slip away. It was hard to be angry at Vinyl when she was clearly sorry and beating herself up inside. She would sooner have kicked a puppy. 

That didn't mean Vinyl would get off scot-free, though. She grasped Vinyl’s shoulder and gripped her tightly. “You do know you’re not getting off that easily, though, right?”

Vinyl inhaled shakily. “W- what did you have in mind?”



* * *



“Hey, Vinyl, you in here? You got a letter from-” Lyra's voice trailed off as she looked in the soundbooth to see Octavia holding Vinyl down with one hand, with the other hand up her shirt. Vinyl was clearly being tickled to death; but for some reason, she looked as though she were enjoying it.

Lyra nodded and tapped the envelope against her chest. “Maybe... maybe I'll come back later,” she said, slowly taking a step back and closing the door behind her. 
> Stinger 2: Grand Galloping Screw-Up
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Vinyl Scratch paced, mentally replaying the song in her head, bobbing along gently with the beat. Something was off about this melody, but for the life of her she couldn't figure out what it was. 

She was shaken out of her reverie when she saw something out of the corner of her eye. A paper fluttered to the ground, pushed through the mail slot in the door. Looking closer, she saw it was an unsealed envelope. Curious, Vinyl slid it open and read it. 



	Dear Octavia: 
Sorry I had you play the Pony Pokey and accidentally skirted you. I would have said pantsed you but you weren't wearing pants. Or panties. I'm really really really sorry!


	

The note was signed, in very flowery writing, ‘Pinkie Pie’.

Vinyl frowned, unsure how to take this. Now with this mental image of a panty-less Octavia in mind, she knew she would be definitely unable to focus; but she lay down on the couch and tried anyway, waving her hands in time as she conducted her mental orchestra.

A while later, Octavia returned, evidenced by a heavy sigh and a slamming door. Vinyl sat up and blinked as she saw her marefriend. Octavia looked frazzled and worn out. She pulled off her bow tie and threw it against the wall, ripped off her hairtie (roughly undoing a seventy-five bit haircut), and then reached back for the zipper on her back.

“So,” Vinyl started carefully as she raised her hand and, with a quick spell and practiced gesture, pulled down her zipper and unclipped her bra straps for her. “Grand Galloping Gala didn't go so well?”

Octavia exhaled in relief as she shoved her bra away from her body and threw herself down on the sofa. “Next time I want to skip wearing my lucky music print panties, don't let me,” she growled as she scratched irritably at the marks in her skin that her bra had left. “And if you see Pinkie Pie, let me know, so I can bash her skull in with my cello case.”

Vinyl nodded as she stood up. “I bet you could use a nice, warm, bubble bath,” she said disarmingly. 

Octavia gave a weary smile. “Please,” she said graciously. A small smile flickered across her face. “You'll be joining me, right?”

“If you want me to, yeah. I'd love to,” Vinyl said with a smile.

> Stinger 3: Pillow Talk
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	One of Vinyl’s new favorite pastimes was pillow talk. Not just because of the glorious experiences that preceded it, or the fact that Octavia usually declined to put her clothes back on right away; but because she really got to communicate with Octavia. It never ceased to amaze her that the same mare could go from so wild and crazy to so calm and refined so quickly; how she could go from biting hard enough to leave angry red marks all across Vinyl’s body and demanding that Vinyl pull her hair to discussing the existence of the Lost Lunar Symphony and where it could have gone.

Today, Octavia rolled over on top and looked over Vinyl’s body again. Vinyl remembered a time when she would have tried to curl up and hide herself; but with a little time and plenty of love from Octavia, she had learned to trust her completely. Vinyl placed her hands behind her head and let Octavia scan her again, her only indication that she was aware of this privacy invasion the tiny smile on her face and the ever so subtle rocking of her hips as she tried to thrust her chest out a bit more, half to show off her assets and half as a subtle invitation.

“You know what I just realized?” Octavia said suddenly. “You don’t have any piercings or tattoos.”

Vinyl blinked. Not quite the way she'd hoped that would go.

Her breasts remained sadly unfondled as Octavia continued. “There’s nothing wrong with that, of course; but most other 'party animals' and DJs have numerous tattoos and many piercings.” She demonstratively traced her fingers down Vinyl’s left arm and across her stomach. “You don’t have any.”

Vinyl’s breathing hitched slightly as Octavia’s fingers gently pressed into her belly button before continuing their journey across her stomach. “Yeah,” she said. “They’d make me identifiable. Or make me look like a crazed fan.” She paused and grinned cheekily. “You’ve been looking at other DJs, eh?” she asked.

“In my defense, you were the one who brought me to the… ‘scene’, I believe it’s called? but you’re still the only DJ I’ll ever need.” She paused, examining Vinyl’s head, and tilted her head with a finger. “You don’t even have your ears pierced, though,” Octavia said, “but I’ve seen you wear earrings on stage.”

“I know a good temporary sticking charm,” Vinyl admitted. “I just stick them on the front of my earlobe. Holds all night through sweat and all of DJ Pon-3’s dancing.”

“If you can call it dancing,” Octavia said with a smirk. “Sometimes I think it looks like you’re having a seizure.”

“I’ll have you know DJ Pon-3 gets numerous propositions every night,” Vinyl said indignantly.

“And how many of them are from patrons who are not intoxicated?” Octavia asked.

Vinyl opened her mouth… and then closed it. “Plenty,” she finally said, but her voice cracked ever so slightly.

Octavia cracked a smile. “It’s fine,” she said, laying her head back down on Vinyl’s chest and resting her hand on her sternum. “I like your dancing, and I’m not intoxicated.”

“Thanks,” Vinyl said. Octavia’s current position left her hindquarters close to Vinyl’s right hand, and she was seized with a sudden urge to grab a handful for herself. 

But before she could work up the nerve, Octavia popped back up, realization shining in her eyes. “You’re afraid of needles,” she exclaimed, a triumphant smile spreading across her face.

“What?” Vinyl stammered. “No, I’m…”

“You are! That’s it! You’re just afraid of needles!”

“I’m not afraid of needles!” Vinyl protested. “I just… really, really, really don’t like them,” she finished lamely.

Octavia chuckled and rested her head down again.

“It’s just… things are not meant to be poking into my body, you know?” Vinyl said in a half-hearted attempt to justify herself. “It’s not natural, and I don’t like it.”

She inhaled sharply as Octavia’s fingers suddenly made a liar out of her.

“What was that you were saying?”

“I said, p- please?” Vinyl whimpered, rocking her hips slightly.

“That’s what I thought you said,” Octavia said, her grin turning predatory.
	
> Stinger 4: Birthday Present
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	Some sights never get old. Some ponies love looking at the sky, looking for constellations they know will be there. Others love the sunrise; still others the sunset. Some love the waves of the sea. Others love the green fields that grow every year.

Vinyl’s new favorite sight that would never get old to her was the sight of Octavia, in her recording booth, playing her cello, wearing only her practice pants and her favorite pink bow tie. It had gotten even better when Octavia had given Vinyl explicit permission (if not instructions) to touch herself if she needed to.

Vinyl sighed and wiped her hands off on a nearby towel. “Best birthday present ever,” she said with a grin as she reached over to turn off her recording equipment.

She paused as a red light appeared. Shouldn’t that red light have come on earli-?

Oh no.

She switched to her headphones and rewound the tape, and confirmed what she already knew. She chuckled nervously and pushed the microphone button again. “Hey, funny story. I… kindof forgot to press record,” she confessed.

Octavia blinked. She set her cello down and poked her head out of the door. “How do you forget that?” she asked.

“I was a little distracted, ok?” Vinyl said, a bit more defensively than she meant to. “Kindof hard not to be.” Her eyes drifted across Octavia’s body again, and a little smile crossed her face again.

Octavia looked down at her bare breasts, then back up at Vinyl, and made a noncommittal shrug. It was nice to have a partner who actually appreciated what she brought to the table.

“Besides, there are some other buttons I'd rather be pressing.” 

Vinyl gasped as she realized she'd said her inside thing outside yet again. She cringed and hid her face, but she had to look up when something cloth hit her in the face. She moved it aside to see.

They were Octavia’s pants; she had dropped them and kicked them off. Now completely naked, she winked at Vinyl, then made a ‘come hither’ gesture with one finger as she daintily stepped back inside the sound booth.

Vinyl grinned and began undoing the zipper on her jacket as she hurriedly followed her and shut the door behind her. 



* * *



Lyra carried her lyre into the recording room, and Bon Bon followed close behind.

“I'm still not sure I get all this,” Bon Bon admitted. “It looks like a spiderweb of wires in here.”

“It's fairly simple,” Lyra shrugged. “Put these headphones on, adjust this gain knob right here, and when it sounds good, hit record.”

“Which one's that?”

“That one. Just let me get a... hey...” Lyra suddenly noticed that the recording deck had a disc in it already. A devious grin flickered across her face. “Want to hear Vinyl's newest record, pre-release?”

Bon Bon shrugged and pulled on a pair of headphones. Her expression turned confused, and then bemused.

“What?”

In answer, Bon Bon held the headphones out. Lyra put them on, and...

She tore them off and tossed them on the table. “Holy cow, they made a sex tape,” Lyra breathed.

Bon Bon laughed.

“Yeah, that would be silly, wouldn't it?” Lyra said. “I mean, it's not like we would ever do such a thing.”

“Not at all.”

“It would be crude, and kindof silly.”

“Yeah.”

“I mean, it's not like we need one. I've got the real you and that's so much better.”

“You're better than any recording, Lyra,” Bon Bon agreed.

There was a pause.

“Maybe it's not so disgusting,” Lyra offered.

“Might be fun,” Bon Bon said grudgingly.

Lyra looked over and pulled her best puppy dog eyes.

Bon Bon sighed. “Fine... I'll go get the whipped cream.”

“Yay!” Lyra cheered.