It was late afternoon when the Prancing Filly opened its doors. The bar opens an hour before the upstairs are available. It gives customers time to drift in and get several drinks in them so they'll spend more money than they plan to by the time we become available. We took this hour to prep ourselves for our “guests”.

I carefully curled my mane. I was mentally counting to five before I would unwound my hair from the iron when Candy bumped me. I hissed when the levitating iron grazed my ear. I flicked it several times and glared at the pink earth pony who gave me a sour “I'm sorry” before taking her place at the makeup mirror. Lucky was swishing scented water in her mouth to hide the whiskey on her breath and Cottontail whose injuries from earlier had faded due to the special salve was powdering her nose.

After I shared my story, I had left feeling too disgusted with life in general to talk anymore. I left Lucky to tend to Cottontail and I went to my room and tried to read a few pages of my new book. I barely finished the prologue when I gave up. My happy mood was ruined and even this new book wasn't bringing it back. I tucked it away beneath my mattress and napped until opening.

Just as I was checking over my makeup, Madame Dove came in to give us our daily pep talk.

“Girls, girls, gather round,” she said as warmly as any school teacher would to gather her pupils' attention for lessons. She opted to wear a corset jacket that hug her chest and forelegs. Her cutie mark was bare and it was a perched dove. She beamed brightly at each of us, likely trying to estimate how much each of us would bring in that night.

Once we gathered around her, she began her speech. “Remember to smile at all times!” Her warm smile faltered as her eyes landed on Cottontail who still had a downcast look in her eyes from her earlier beating. Once Cottontail noticed that hard look was on her, she instantly plastered a loopy grin on her face. Once Madame Dove was satisfied she continued, “Treat each of our guests as if they are royalty!”

I swear, I could recite this speech from heart. It was the same one she gave each night ever since I got here. The cliff notes are be nice to customers, oh and never call them customers. They are guests! Also, if a customer is sober, ply them with drinks with them hoofing the bill. It had taken me a while to realize why she gave this speech each day. It was to remind us that she was watching and any show of bad performance will have to answer to her.

At the tail end of her speech, she said, “Sandy, the Mayor of Sunny Days has an appointment with you later tonight at 8:00. You're free to take a break and freshen up and Ambrose will escort you.”

Damn. Oh, damn. And I was hoping that I could try reading after work tonight.

Madame Dove looked me squarely in the eye and there was a slight edge in her voice, “You'll treat him extra nice tonight, understand?”

It seems that my visit is a means to pay off the mayor or to settle a debt. It wasn't for me to know the whys of it. I'm to play my part as the good little whore who offered her plot to whomever my madame told me to.

I nodded, “Yes ma'am.”

“I want you girls out there in ten minutes.” Madame Dove left us.

Once she was out the door and well out of earshot, Lucky nudged me, “I heard he has good scotch.”

“I'm sure that I'm not going over there to drink his scotch,” I snorted.

“Oh, trust me. When he's in a good mood, he's generous,” Lucky winked at me.

The mayor liked young mares. During my first few years at the Prancing Filly, Lucky had been the one that paid visits to the mayor and other peers of the island. Back then, she had been younger without the extra weight. She drank, but not as heavily as she did now. In fact, she had been something else back then, a pony I once admired. When she set hoof out into the saloon, the ponies cheered and joined her in song and stomp their hooves. She was the highlight of the night, but then something changed in her. It happened so gradually that I didn't notice, but Lucky stopped being the charming starlet to being a drunk. Ponies say that she had passed her prime.

One thing I make sure to do before going out there was to take my birth control. I took out a small round compact where I kept the pills. Payment for birth control was another amount slashed from our wages, however it wasn't something I would complain about. If it wasn't for the pills I would be the mother of a dozen foals by now and last time I checked Madame Dove doesn't have a nursery on the premises.

We flow out into the bar with smiles and promises in the flutter of our lashes and the sway of our flanks. I stop being me and become a different pony. I flirted with stallion and mare alike and laugh at their jokes even if I didn't get it or find remotely funny. Several ponies would buy me drinks of which I take small sips from, never refusing them. I listened to stories, both dull and interesting, with intrigue. Whenever a pony made a pass, I suggested he or she could come upstairs with me with a conspiring wink. No matter their age, shape, sex, or appearance, I treated each of them as they were each the most important pony in the world and I was there to make them happy.

The rules were simple. To get upstairs, you had to pay at the bar and get a ticket. Ambrose would take the ticket and let the guest upstairs. Occasionally, a pony tries to slip upstairs while Ambrose's occupied with another pony or claim that they left something valuable upstairs, but despite his size, the minotaur had good perception and a good memory. More than once, he has literally tossed a pony out.

I head upstairs with a guest not too far behind me. He was a light blue pegasus who said that he came down from the cloud cities to get a taste of the earth life. I wondered what tales he would take back with him to the sky. Once his half hour was up, a mare that looked like an ex-raider came in, and then a stuttering unicorn. One by one, they came in and I did my job and make sure that each of them left the room satisfied. I've been in this job so long, I've seen and done it all. Some came in knowing what they wanted and others came in thinking they knew what they wanted. Some liked it gentle and romantic, others wanted it rough, and others wanted it loud. Some saw me as a fulfillment of a fantasy and others saw me as a piece of meat. I was whatever they wanted me to be, it was what they paid for.

After a hefty earth pony climbed off me, I lay on the bed panting hoping that I would get a few minutes rest before the next client came in. There was a solid rap at the door and I knew it was Ambrose. He usually knocked when time was almost up for a client. After that, the client had exactly one minute to finish up and be ready to leave because Ambrose doesn't knock twice. If the knock was ignored, then he had no problem coming in, pulling the pony off me and tossing them out by the scruff.

After the pony left Ambrose stuck his head inside, “You have twenty minutes to get ready for your visit.”

Oh yes, I nearly forgotten.

A carriage was waiting outside at the back. Ambrose would be escorting me while Pistol took over for him. If didn't take me long to get ready and meet him by the carriage. The pony pulling the carriage was a regular to the brothel and was the type that knew to keep his mouth shut. Ambrose opened the carriage door for me and I trotted inside. The minotaur had to duck his head to get inside and his presence nearly filled the inside.

I sat quietly, ducking my eyes toward the floor. In case it hasn't been picked up on, I'm scared as hell of Ambrose. Not because of him raping me years ago and how he didn't seem to mind beating the hell out of us if we made Madame Dove mad. It was just . . . that I always got this sense of hatred from him whenever he looked at us. Or at any pony. His eyes were always slanted in a glare and though he spoke softly, there was a gruff behind it as if he wanted to snarl.

So it scared the hell out of me when he spoke. “Back in my tribe, in the far, far north, we had ponies.”

I looked up at him surprised. Ambrose rarely spoke to us unless it was to pass us orders from Madame Dove.

“We kept them in pens.” He was reaching into a pocket and drew out a pack of cigarettes. Madame Dove didn't allow smoking in her brothel, she said that the smell of smoke was a turn off. “We let them out to work. Pulling wagons or working the fields.”

I swallowed wondering where this was going. “Okay . . .”

“They didn't talk.” Ambrose lit his cigarette and the flame lit up his face. He had a long scar that angled from across his right eye and ended along his left cheek. “We cut out their tongues. It made them quiet, more docile. Kept them from talking about freedom or trying to escape.”

A shiver ran down my spine and I wondered how much longer before we arrived at the Mayor's house. Why was he scaring me like this?

Then it dawned on me. Madame Dove thought that history was going to repeat itself with Cottontail. Did she believe that I was encouraging Cottontail to hide caps?

“I had a talk with Cottontail. I told her about what happened to me . . . I don't think Cottontail would . . .”

“Just like you didn't think anypony was hiding back caps?” Ambrose took a long drag on his cigarette, his eyes never leaving me.

There was a moment, I swear, that my heart stopped. Just stop. When it resumed beating, I began babbling. “I swear I have no idea what she was doing. I promise! If I did, I . . . I would have told her to turn them in! I would have told Madame Dove! I swear to the Sisters! Please, please, believe me.”

As my fear ran rapid, a horrible memory came to me. It had happened years ago, a few months after I joined the brothel. An earth pony by the name of Violet had been working in the brothel for years until she decided that she had enough and told Madame Dove that either she was let go or she would tell the Mayor about some of her “dealings” behind his back. The Madame smiled and asked Violet to stay on for a few more days until she found a replacement. Hours later Violet was taken out in a carriage like this with Ambrose and never came back. I made the mistake of asking Madame Dove where Violet went and she smiled and said, “She went for a swim.”

Three days later, Violet's body washed up on the beach. Was I about to go for a swim?

Ambrose continued smoking watching me sweat. I trembled waiting for his reply. A quick glance out the window told me that we were approaching an intersection in the path. One way would take us to the southern piers where unspeakable things could happen and not be shared and the other way would head north toward the suburban neighborhood where the wealthy lived. I held my breath and waited to see which way the carriage would go.

It took the northern path. I let loose a long breath and felt the sweat beads gelling in the my coat.

Ambrose shook the ash from his cigarette outside the window. “Madame Dove doesn't want a repeat of history. She thinks you can help with that.”

I nodded so fast my curls bounced, “Yes, of course! I'll do anything to help!”

“Good.” Ambrose grind his cigarette out against the bottom of his hoof and tossed it out the window. It landed in the pristine yard of white house with blue shutters. I imagined that the owner would be none too happy to see it, but I doubted Ambrose would care; he might even take delight on in it.

The carriage pulled up in front of a large house with pillars in the front supporting a large balcony. I quickly adjusted my dress and made certain my mane was in place. Hopefully, my makeup looked alright.

Ambrose climbed out first and held the door open for me. As I climbed down the short steps, the realization of what I had agreed to dropped on me. It was my job to keep Cottontail from attempting to run away, that is if that was her plan at all. Maybe my talk with her has changed her mind or maybe there was no plan to flee at all. There were just too many maybes! Why can't I go back to this morning when all I had to worry about was getting a book!?

I was escorted inside by a servant and led upstairs. Before we arrived to the master bedroom, I buried my worries and produced a smile and bedroom eyes to play my part.

The mayor was an overweight stallion with a thick mustache and greasy mane. He spoke with a thick mainland accent and his breath smelled of alcohol and cigars. Years of practice kept me from flinching whenever he kissed me. He liked to kiss a lot and I believe that he wants to pretend I was a marefriend instead of paid whore. That's fine, my role here is to be whatever he wanted me to be and nothing more.

When he was passed out on the bed, I got up and used the small bathroom attached to the main bedroom. I took a moment to look at my appearance. My mane was a bit tangle, my makeup smeared, and light bruising on my neck where he gave me a hickey. I washed my hooves and my face and quietly trotted out. The clock stated that it was 2:00 AM. It was too early for me to leave and with the mayor asleep there wasn't much for me to do. I could sleep, but my nerves were too wracked from my carriage trip that I would probably wake him up with my toss and turning.

I killed time by looking at his meager book collection on a small shelf. It was doubtful that the mayor ever took the time for reading and there were a few interesting titles. I considered reading one, but I wouldn't be finished with it by the time it took for me to leave and I hate starting a book and never finishing it. Then I noticed the terminal on his desk.

It was one of those pre-war Stable-Tec computers, very old with scuff marks about the monitor and keyboard. The screen was off and believing that it was defunct I tapped a few keys and was startled when it the screen flicked on. I quickly looked over my shoulder at the mayor and he hadn't even stirred. I turned back to the terminal and studied the screen intently.

I didn't mean to be nosy, but this was my first time around a working terminal. Madame Dove never used one preferring to handle her accounts through a ledger. My previous visits the mayor had been awake or I wouldn't wake up till dawn. I read the first message which was still on the screen.

The cargo will come in on the 15th from the southern docks. Cargo: Buck, Mint-als, Party-Time Mint-als, Stampede. Payment: 150 caps.

I blinked confused for a moment. No ships docked at the southern piers, except for small time fisherponies or . . .smugglers. Of course, the mayor was likely involved in drug dealings and smugglers. I switched off the screen now knowing that next time I got a customer high off stampede, I had the mayor to thank for that. Bastard.

* * *

We didn't start back for home until the sun began rising. The mayor gave me a quick morning kiss as if I was his wife and I was dismissed. The carriage ride was less stressful compared to last night and I was more than happy when we arrived at the Prancing Filly and I was able to undress and turn in.

Lucky was snoring soundly with an open bottle of whiskey on the pillow next to her head like a teddy bear. I carefully took the bottle and corked it and set it the floor. I was tired, but I was too worried to sleep as I had a problem to contend with. If Cottontail has plans to runaway, then I was going to be in trouble and trouble usually meant having a “talk” with Ambrose.

I would have to check on Cottontail and hope that my story has brought her to her senses. If not, then what can I do? I hated being a rat, but if it comes down to it being me or another pony getting a “talk”, then by the Sisters it was going to be the other pony. Cottontail has been in this business long enough to know that most ponies were bastards.

Yet, that didn't sit well with me at all. I didn't want to be the cause of somepony else getting a beating. In that moment, I hated Ambrose and Madame Dove more than anything in the world. They kept us in the constant state of fear and had us spy on each other to win favor or ward off punishment. I allowed myself to stew in my hatred for them and then once the anger subsided, I began to think clearly. I guess the best thing I could do was find out more about this stallionfriend Cottontail had, but I couldn't question her about him myself. Maybe Lucky could, but could she stay sober long enough to be subtle?

Then it hit me. Pistol Whip has escorted Cottontail many times. Now that I thought about it, it made sense. Ambrose would have put a stop to any non-profitable romances if he was escorting, but Pistol Whip might be keeping Cottontail's visits private. I could just ask him. And just as the idea brighten my prospects, it left a sour note in my stomach. I still owed Pistol Whip the ten caps and asking him for information would be me further in his debt, but I have nothing to pay him with.

Well, that wasn't true. I had something that every pony wanted and paid for many, many times.

I managed to get a couple hours of sleep and woken by Lucky falling out of bed. I got up and helped her to her hooves. She wobbled and leaned against me heavily, “The world is spinning. . .”

“Just the inside of your head, dear,” I told her as I guided her to the bathroom. If I hurried, I could get her in the bathroom before she threw up.

While Lucky empty the contents of her stomach in the toilet I brushed my mane and washed my face. I applied a little makeup around my eyes to hide the bags under them.

“How was the mayor?” Lucky looked at me with glossy eyes and spat in the toilet.

“Sloppy and tried to be romantic,” I muttered studying my reflection.

“Ahhh, shame that Mayor Buster ain't around no more. Now that was a stallion . . .” Before Lucky could tell me more, she shoved her face into the bowl and heaved some more.

“Lucky, when you are able, take a bath and use mouthwash,” I said as I walked to the door. Usually, I helped Lucky into the tub, but right now I needed to hurry before Candy Hearts or Silky was up. Lucky will too busy in the bathroom to interfere.

I headed towards the kitchen and caught the strong aroma of fresh coffee. Pistol Whip was at the kitchen table nursing from a mug as was his usual habit. I canter to his side, “Come with me.”

He looked at me raising a brow curiously, “Why?”

“Just, come on.”

He drained his coffee mug and stood up. He followed me two pony lengths behind. I led him to my room. I was relieved to see the others' doors were still closed. Good, the last thing I needed for them to butt into my business. I could still hear Lucky throwing up behind the bathroom door so at least she would be out of the way. Once we were inside, I shut the door.

Pistol Whip was watching me apprehensively when I turned back to him. “What do you want?”

“Paying you back for yesterday. So how do you want it?”

He didn't reply, but his eyes sure got big. “Excuse me?”

“How. Do. You. Want. It?” I said slowly. Surely, I didn't have to spell it out for him.

It was a question I had asked customers many times and I always got an answer in one form or another. But I wasn't expecting the answer I got from Pistol Whip.

His brow crinkled and his dark eyes narrowed, “I don't want it.”

I recovered quickly, “Yes, you do. Everypony does. No need to be shy, you don't have anything I haven't already seen.”

I approached him, my hooves lightly tapping the wood floor as they carried me closer to him. Some ponies just needed a little encouragement, especially the shy ones. I batted my eyes and flicked my tail making a soft swish in the air behind me. Before I could get close, Pistol Whip held up a hoof and pushed me away.

I've never been pushed away before so I stumbled backwards. My hooves clopped on the floor as I caught myself. “What's wrong?”

“I don't want to have sex with you,” his voice was firm and thick.

I tilted my head confused, “So . . . you don't like fillies?”

He guffawed, “No, I like fillies just fine.”

“Then . . .are you gelded?” I took a quick glance at his legs, but I wasn't able to peek at what was between his back legs.

“No!” he snapped.

“Then why not? If you want my to pay you back in caps, you're going to have to wait until next week.”

“Sandy,” he said my name. I never heard him say my name before. He said it as if it was a curse, “You don't have to repay me. I'm not looking for repayment of any kind from you.”

My ears laid back and I stomp a hoof in frustration, “Then . . . then . . .what the hell do you want? Why did you pay the caps!?”

He stared at me for a long time. And just as I was about to get impatient and demand an answer, he said, “I was just being kind, Sandy.”

I sat on the floor puzzled and frustrated. Nopony did anything for another without expecting anything in return. Lucky and I helped Cottontail because if she screwed up than the rest of us would pay for it. “So you don't want anything from me?”

“No, I don't,” he said firmly.

“You might change your mind once I ask you this.” I stood and flicked my tail irritated.

“What would that be?” The line of his jaw tighten. I had pissed him off too.

“You've escorted Cottontail several times. Have you seen the buck she's been hanging out with?”

He eyed me for several moments before saying, “Maybe.”

I never liked guessing games. I hated them in fact. My anger was throbbing in my temples like a pulse, but I forced myself to calm down. He was already mad as it was and I didn't want to push him over that edge to where he didn't want to help me at all. I drew a deep breath and tried to appeal to this “kindness” thing he had going. “Cottontail is going to get herself into a lot of trouble over this buck. You already seen what happened to her for holding back caps, imagine what is going to happen to her if she does something really stupid. Trust me, I've had a taste of it myself and it is no where near as pleasant what happened to her yesterday. I want to head this off before she gets herself into trouble.” As an afterthought I added, “It would also help out Madame Dove.”

Pistol Whip muttered something foul under his breath and fixed me with a fierce glare. “So you want me to warn him off? To beat him up?”

That would be great, but I doubted that Pistol Whip was going to do this as a freebie. He might just ask for some form of payment. I shook my head, “No, I want to talk to him. Let him know what kind of trouble he got Cottontail into already. You don't have to do anything. Just take me to where she meets him.”

Pistol Whip seemed to mull this over and then nodded, “Alright. Be ready in an hour and we'll go.”

“Thank you,” I said.

Why did I want to meet Cottontail's stallionfriend? Maybe it was out of a sick sense of curiosity or morbid fascination. Would I see a young buck deeply in love as I believed Barley Hay to be or maybe a scoundrel whose love was faked as Barley Hay truly was? As I went to the bathroom to make sure that Lucky hadn't drown herself in the toilet or bathtub, I realized that I was working to break up a couple. Did it faze me?

Not really. I had to survive in this hellhole somehow.