A teeming throng of ponies milled about the Ponyville Market, shoulder to shoulder as vendors called out from every store and stall. Rarity’s voice rang out above the din as she draped herself across half a dozen barrels of apples, artfully arranged before the stall of an orange mare, red now leaching from her wares and onto her cheeks.
"Treat me like you treat your orchard, dearest Applejack. Watch over me day and night, caress me with gentle hooves and work me with rough tools, and oh! What wonders I shall produce for you!" Rarity moaned. "Let me shade you when you sweat, bucking, grunting, straining as the sun sets, and when it rises again, wake to me, dewy and beckoning." She twirled an apple in her hooves, pausing to watch her breath fade from it as the pony behind the counter stood reflected in its glistening skin. "Plough my fertile valleys, till me, tend me, and when I have swelled beyond bursting, shake me like you need me and my succulent fruits shall be yours and yours alone."
A hundred ponies stood still and staring and silent. Applejack pulled her hat low and mumbled, “I swear, y’all, I don’t know this here mare. Ain’t never seen her before. I left my barn this mornin’ an’ she followed me all the way here to market. So y’all can move along, ain’t a dang thing to see here.”
Rarity rolled off the barrels and landed on solid hooves. She scratched eagerly at the dusty ground, snorting, “An athlete, sweet Applejack - that’s what you are. Powerful, swift, enduring. Let me be the wilderness you tread! Attend the running of my leaves, let me leave you winded, panting, euphoric. Scale my peaks and follow my course, pushing, striving for the sweet release at my finish line.” She dropped low to a runner’s stance, white coat gleaming in the morning sun as she whispered harshly and overloudly, “I can be the trails you hike, the hills you climb, inviting, daunting, unyielding ‘till you swear you’ll conquer me or die trying. Make me yield beneath your hooves as you crest my summit!”
"Anypony want a unicorn? Got one I’ll give up," Applejack said as she shrank behind her suddenly too-small counter board, "real reasonable-like. Sews, knits, real generous, darn useful if’n you’re into frou-frou dresses an’ such. Any takers? Please?"
Stalking behind the counter, Rarity snaked her way next to Applejack and cooed, “I know you’ve always dreamed of the ocean, my love - living life landlocked on that farm, how could you not? Then let me be your ship, and you my sea! Toss me, turn me, crash me, lash me, push me where you want me.” Half the town stood rapt, wide-eyed and slack-jawed as she continued, “Wash over me, drown me as I fight to stay upright! Leave me little choice but to furl sails and turn toward you, waiting for the building wave that will crash over me and leave me wet and gasping, soaked and helpless.”
Applejack tipped her hat back and rubbed her temple. “Rares, please, Sugarcube,” she pleaded, “I’ll do anything. You’re drawin’ a crowd, hon, an’ they ain’t starin’ at the baked goods. Just simmer down, hush up, an’ sure as sarsaparilla, we’ll - “
Eyes narrowing and locked on the weatherworn hat, Rarity smiled and ran a hoof along its trembling rim. “Ah, that’s it, my farmer, my dear! It’s that hat you’re attached to, isn’t it? I’ve seen you in more, at the wedding and at the Gala, too - and in less. Oh, how I long to be that hat! Picked up gently, lovingly, dearly each morning, spending all day in the sun atop you, growing sweatier with each passing hour, then thrown down dirty every night.” She took Applejack’s head in her hooves and turned it to face her, now muzzle to muzzle. “If you want to dress up, Applejack, then by all means, you can wear me. Wear me like a glove, lace me like a dress, and strap me like a harness.”
Shoulders slumping and eyes downcast, Applejack muttered, “Rarity, for the love o’… Oh, consarn it, fine! I give up. You win, Sugar.”
Rarity stood back and grinned at her handiwork. “So you’ll do it, then? Right here in your stall, at the height of Market Day, in front of the entire town?”
"If’n that’s what it’ll take to quiet y’all down," Applejack growled, "then I suppose I ain’t got no choice. Git over here, dangit!" To the cheers and groans of a hundred onlookers she threw her hooves around the unicorn and met her lips for long seconds, parting so suddenly her hat twirled off into the dust.
Rarity giggled her sweet, tinkling, silver-bell laugh and licked her lips. “There, now, Applejack! One simple kiss in public - that wasn’t so bad, was it?”
"Guess not, Rares," Applejack said as she shook her head and reached for her lost Stetson. "But there weren’t no need for all o’ this dramatic carryin’ on. Y’all do know I woulda done that half an hour ago if’n y’all had just asked ‘please’ the first time, right?"
"Oh, Applejack, dearest, ‘please’? You still haven’t learned, have you?" Rarity smiled as she headed off into the milling crowd, then turned and winked. "A lady never begs.”