Spike’s Recounting of a Story Rarity Told Him in 1021 About What Happened after She Left Pie Pans Bar and Grill, in Downtown Ponywood, 1019, Captured in Spike’s Autobiography, as Dramatized by Channel 7: Cultural Programming
Rarity had a gift for describing creatures.
“—arrogant, overmuscled, thick-skulled, empty-headed, hopeless, heartless, loveless, weird-ass fanboy stalker lizard!” she concluded describing Spike to her masseuse. “And the way dragons treated your people historically is terrible, and I’m very sympathetic.”
Rarity’s masseuse, a diamond dog named Quartz Strike, nodded. “Yes. Lift your legs?”
Lying flat on the massage table, head nestled in a ring-shaped pillow, Rarity lifted her forelegs above her head. Quartz Strike grabbed each one in turn, and sharply yanked and twisted. A loud pop came from each of Rarity’s shoulders, and she involuntarily whinnied. When the spasm passed, her whole body relaxed into the table, and a long nicker escaped her.
Diamond Hands was, in Rarity’s opinion, the finest massage parlor in all of Hollywood. Neither unicorn telekinesis nor earth pony strength had the combination of force and dexterity to enable really good massage. Diamond dogs had that market secured. Plus, the walls had ivy, and it always smelled like fresh-cut grass.
“Being cruel to a first draft is bad enough,” Rarity said, as Quartz Strike worked his elbows into her shoulders. “Creativity needs room to flourish. Like a budding flower, it cannot survive harsh criticism in the early stage. And his remarks were hardly constructive. But he didn’t stop there! He had to resort to personal attacks.”
Quartz Strike nodded again. Strong fingers pressed down into the flesh of her shoulders, working tension out of muscle and tendon alike. He was silent for a time, focusing on his work, and only once there were no knots remaining did he say: “Yes. Lower your legs?”
So Rarity lowered her back legs over the end of the table, and he grabbed each one, worked his elbows into her flanks, and rolled her hips. At her age, past fifty, her hips were not what they once were. A chorus of cracks and pops followed Quartz’s ministrations.
“He dared to imply that my self-esteem derives from what males think of me! Not even stallions, males, generally,” she let out a sharp snort. “Like I’ll feel good about myself if an abyssinian tomcat compliments my mane. Oh, sure, he’s a walking, talking cat, but he has a dick and two balls so that means he can tell me I’m valid.”
Quartz Strike worked his fingers along her spine, finding the knots of tense muscle and slowly working them out.
“Of course,” Rarity said. “Capper is an abyssian. And a tomcat. So I suppose I did… well, he flirted with me quite a bit, you know. And he was very charming.”
“Yes,” Quartz Strike said. With strong motions of his fingers, he pressed into the muscles around her spine, eliciting an involuntary shiver, and driving Rarity to arch her back.
“And,” Rarity continued, “as I think about that, I realize you are a walking talking dog, and in context that might have come across as a bit racist. And I’m realizing that maybe Spike had some valid points there, and I have some subconscious bias.”
“Turn your head?” Quartz Strike asked, and Rarity did. With two hands, he carefully worked the kinks out of her neck.
“I know you’re being polite,” she sighed. “Can you forgive me?”
“Yes,” Quartz Strike said. “Lower your tail?”
As he worked the tension out of her dock, careful always to keep his hands above the line of her tail, Rarity blew out another breath. “And maybe it was a bit… lurid. I don’t know. Calico Road was a masterpiece. It won a dozen awards for creative fiction. Am I an award-winning author? Have I ever written a novel, or even a script? No. I punched Dragon/Pony Romance into Ask Luna and clicked on the first few results.”
Quartz Strike applied his shoulder to the small of Rarity’s back, working out a tight knot of muscles there.
“And maybe I have a bit of a thing for dragons too. So what. That isn’t a crime. Some of those romance stories weren't bad.”
“Yes,” Quartz said, working his elbow in deep, pushing into the tense muscle below. Rarity’s ribs were driven into the table, and she grunted with the strain.
“And…” she growled out the word, only to draw in a sudden breath when Quartz released the pressure on her back. “I suppose I wanted… I never disliked doing scenes like that, you know? I’m a good actress. I can do nuance, complexity, subtlety! But not every scene needs to be subtle. Sometimes a scene is just there to show off how good the lead actress looks in a sheer dress.”
Satisfied that her spine was seen to, Quartz Strike turned around to the small rolling table that sat next to his work area. Upon it was an array of hoof-cleaning tools, balms, lotions, towels, and a series of hot stones kept hot over a small flame. It was one of the lotion bottles he selected first, putting several spritzes of it into his hands and rubbing it into her back.
It made her smell like lavender. It sank into her muscles.
“Of course,” she said “in The Gorgeous Hussar I was the actual gorgeous hussar. The fact that I looked good enough that two stallions would go to war over me was the point of the movie.”
Once her back was covered in lotion, the towel was next. Quartz Strike picked up a thin, white cloth and laid it over Rarity like a saddle cloth. The fabric quickly adhered to the sticky lotion, clinging tight to her coat. Upon that surface he began to place hot stones, the fabric and lotion both diffusing their heat, turning singular hot points into a warm sensation that extended throughout her body.
“Spike said he liked my acting, and he specifically mentioned The Gorgeous Hussar as one of his favorites. And he said he was into ponies the first time we met. Do you think that’s it? Do you think he likes me because he’s crushing on me?”
“Turn your head?” Quartz Strike asked, and Rarity turned her head the other way.
“He did imply he wanted to ask Applejack out,” Rarity said, voice picking up. “And in our audition, I felt his interest. I thought he was just a gifted actor, but maybe he wasn’t acting! Maybe he’s a dragon pervert who’s into ponies. We did our audition together before he said he liked my movies. That has to be it. Why else would he have followed me out?”
Silence hung as Quartz Strike gently massaged the base of her neck, working out the kinks there with the utmost care.
“I mean…” Rarity said, but what she meant went unsaid. As she trailed into a long silence, Quartz took each of her hooves one at a time, rolling her ankles to crack the joints. An inspection of the underside of her hooves revealed dirt and abrasion, and so he turned to his hoof cleaning tools. Made of shiny chrome, they resembled nothing so much as dentists tools, built on a larger scale.
“He might just like my acting though,” she said. “I shouldn’t…”
There was a chair across the room. Quartz Strike pulled it up, so he could sit next to Rarity while he worked. Starting with her front-right hoof, he lifted it and began to carefully scrape the dirt off her frog, scraping the spurs and abrasions off the inside of the nail itself.
“Am I…” Rarity shut her eyes. “Am I really saying the only reason a talented young actor would like my work is because he thinks I’m hot? Is that how I see myself?” Her tail lashed. “Oh my fucking darling, is Spike right? Do I view myself through the male gaze? Deep in my heart, do I still think I’m still the young mare who had to give a stallion a horn-job to get a part acting in a pizza commercial?”
“Yes,” Quartz Strike said, as he used a square of sandpaper to carefully polish the inside of her hoof.
“Holy fuck,” Rarity said, breathless. “How long has that landmine been buried in my subconscious? A stallion rejects me, and the first thing I do is run off and write a borderline pornographic romance whose only purpose is to let me be sexy to the audience? That’s the most depressing thing I’ve ever heard, and I’m the one who did it!”
“Yes,” Quartz Strike said, shifting to the front-left hoof and beginning the same procedure.
“No, Spike has been a true friend to me. He told me the truth when I didn’t want to hear it.” Rarity yanked her hoof out of Quartz Strike’s grasp, sharply shoving herself up off the massage table. Hot stones tumbled to the floor, and her towel saddlecloth hung half-on, half-off her back, stuck in place by the remaining lotion. “I will not be this… this weepy actress cliche! This depressing parody of an old mare! I will show the world that my best years are still ahead of me, and that any stallion, or male who feels threatened by an older mare in a romance is too much of a dickless wonder for me to give a shit about what they think!”
Left with no hoof to work on, and his hot stones scattered all over the floor, Quartz Strike blinked and stared. He was obviously taken aback, not sure how to react. Finally, he pointed at the clock: “Session is one and one half hour.”
“I’m sorry, Quartz!” Rarity gripped his shoulder. “But I can’t stay! My destiny is calling me!”
Quartz paused. “Qué?”
“No, of course I won’t be paying for the full time. I’m leaving early.”