//------------------------------// // Part Two // Story: Pony Pleaser // by Craine //------------------------------// Stupid servants… Stupid, stupid, stupid. That’s exactly what howled in Rarity’s head again and again, her every breath filled with dense steam, and somehow bothered by the sweat trickling off her face and legs. The Ponyville spa was supposed to refresh and rejuvenate. The steam room was supposed to do this in stride. It didn’t. Rarity wore the same frown as when they’d first arrived. The same frown she wore at the front desk, where Lotus and Aloe offered her and her escort a sideways stare. She stared at the tiled floor, no relaxing sigh, no rolling eyes, no commentary on how the week’s filth fell from her coat. Nothing. Just frowning and kicking herself for leaving the boutique unlocked. Trixie gently called her name, and she refused to answer. Rarity merely looked up from the floor and frowned at the other mare sitting on the opposite bench. Trixie’s ears wilted and she forced a smile. Before long, though, the smile dropped. “You aren’t still mad, are you?” Rarity said nothing. “Oh, come on, it’s a good thing we got away from that place. It got a little cramped." Rarity said nothing, and Trixie returned the frown. “What, now you’re not talking?” Rarity frowned harder and said nothing. “Oh, real mature. Why did you even bother coming? Killjoy.” Rarity narrowed her eyes and said nothing. Trixie bit her lip and rubbed her sweaty elbow. “I-It’s not like I was wrong, you know! I’ve done so much for you, how could I not treat myself?!” Rarity said nothing. “I’m not the bad pony here! Haven’t I proven that?!” Rarity leaned back on her bench and said nothing. Trixie hesitated, her brows curling up. “Haven’t I?” Rarity crossed her arms, looked away and said nothing. Good thing too, she couldn’t look at the crushed expression on Trixie’s face. “I’m not… I’m trying to be a good pony. I just wanted…” Rarity shut her eyes tightly and said nothing. “Please? Just talk to me.” Soon, Rarity realized, her sweat came from more than just the steam. When a tender hoof pressed on her thigh, and a gentle muzzle brushed beneath her chin, that sweat became ice-cold. “I’m sorry…” That was it. That was the straw that, not only broke the camel’s back, but broke the back of that camel’s entire species. Those two words brought Rarity to her senses after all this time, and made her mistakes as clear as any diamond. She’d allowed herself to get attached to an enemy. She’d allowed herself to stare into those guilty eyes and see a cutthroat monster in their reflection. She’d allowed her heart to lurch at that apology, to believe she’d been wrong about Trixie. Even on the first day she’d met her. But Rarity couldn’t have been wrong. Trixie fooled her. She handled and manipulated her, and she did it on a lie. A lie of omission, yes, but a lie, all the same. Rarity had gotten used to Trixie—her voice, her smell, her calming presence. She deceived her like she did all that time ago. Like a master magician would. And she still had no clue why. So yes, that was it. Rarity was tired of being played with, of being lied to. No more games, no more lies and no more hiding. For either of them. “What happened that night?” Rarity’s voice darted into the silence like a stone against glass When Rarity finally opened her eyes, she saw Trixie sitting on the floor close to her, that tender hoof still placed on her thigh. And she finally looked down into Trixie’s sparkling desperate eyes. “You said it was okay,” Trixie said. Again, Rarity raised a brow, and Trixie continued. “I saw you at that club in Manehatten with another mare. Coco Pommel, was it? At first, I avoided you like the plague. I mean, what were the odds of seeing a Ponyvillian in Manehatten?” Rarity allowed a tiny smile, but dropped it immediately. “I’d put on another show that night—first successful one in days—and I celebrated. Well… tried to celebrate.” Rarity pursed her lips at the implication, but said nothing. “You were stumbling the whole time. Guess you had a few drinks before you arrived, I don’t know.” Trixie paused and allowed her own smile. “You were so spry. So friendly with everypony. Honestly, I didn’t expect such volume and expression from a mare like you.” By now, Rarity’s face was blank, but her ear were pointed and alert. “Your friend Coco seemed a bit nervous, though. She always gave you shifty glances and whispered something to you I couldn’t make out.” Trixie laughed. “You always waved it off and partied on.” Rarity noted the weightlessness of Trixie voice, and the swift sweep of her tail as she spoke. “There were a few close calls. You know, when you’d almost see me. So I spent a good chunk of time as far away from you as possible. Easy to do with crowded groups and what not. Well, that, and you kept falling on your face.” Rarity sputtered on herself searching for an excuse, but stopped and clamped her mouth shut. “But when I saw you again…” Rarity’s eyes were now bright and unmoving. “When I saw you again, you were dancing. And… I couldn’t look away. Everypony was watching you, even the ponies dancing with their own partners. You were wild. Unchained. Like water from a broken dam.” It took every cell in Rarity’s body not to say, ‘Go on’. Even more to keep the smile off her face. She failed the latter. Trixie’s hoof fell off of Rarity’s lap, reminding the fashionista that it was even there, and both of their smiles faded. “Then you saw me,” Trixie said. Rarity’s brows knitted as she said, “You sound disappointed.” Rarity nearly shoved a hoof into her mouth. She couldn’t stop those words even as she said them. Thankfully, Trixie didn’t seem to mind. “At first, maybe,” Trixie replied with a coy smile, her eyes never leaving Rarity’s. “I wasn’t really excited to have my name shouted in a crowded club and yanked onto the dance floor.” Rarity covered a giggled with her hoof and blushed. “Oh my…” “But when we started dancing, I forgot who you were. You were a completely different animal, nothing like the mare I saw back in Ponyville. You were so visceral, I could just…” Trixie stopped when Rarity’s eyes halved and her blush darkened. “I, ah… I’m rambling aren’t I?” “A bit,” Rarity said. Trixie cleared her throat. “Well then… We finished dancing, and you introduced me to your friend, Coco. We all sat together, and you bought us both drinks. And, uh, despite Coco’s warning, I returned the favor.” “Heavens, how much did I drink?” Rarity asked. Trixie grimaced and said, “Coco told me where the nearest hospital was. That’s how much you drank.” “Ah.” Trixie cleared her throat again, shifting on her haunches as her tail continued to swish to and fro. “We started talking, and you asked me why I was there. I answered and, well... Heh. I guess I just couldn’t stop.” Finally, Trixie’s eyes hit the floor. “I told you everything; that I was homeless, traveling from town to town with my magic shows. That my reputation hadn’t improved much since my last… visit to Ponyville. That I’d give my horn just to look ponies in the eye and see anything but contempt.” Rarity’s eyes softened. “What… what did I say?” Her muscles twitched as Trixie’s hoof returned to her thigh. “You said it was okay,” Trixie said just barely above a whisper. “That bad things happen to good ponies.” Rarity allowed that tiny smile again. That certainly sounded like her, even if she was drunk. Soon, though, her smile dropped, knowing full well she may’ve never even thought that three years ago. “What happened next?” Rarity said, somewhat mystified. A sad smile crossed Trixie’s lips and she said, “I laughed in your face.” When Rarity gave a confused pout, Trixie looked back up at her. “I didn’t believe you, of course. I thought you were just saying that, or the alcohol was saying that. I don’t know. But you just… kept insisting.” Trixie shifted away again, but a firm hoof guided her chin back in place, forcing her to look at that hoof’s smiling owner “I-I… tried to leave. You grabbed my hoof and demanded me to stay. You kept tellng me all these… wonderful things. That our bad history wasn’t my fault, that I wasn’t a bad pony, I only made bad decisions. And I just kept pulling away denying everything you told me.” Something like tears collected in Trixie’s eyes, and the softest quietest coo came from behind Rarity’s throat. Trixie tried to move her head away again, but was held by Rarity’s hoof. “I slapped you…” Rarity froze. “And you… you kissed me.” She knew it. Rarity knew it. She saw the signs, saw through the blurry memories, denied their very existence the whole time, and she knew it. But now, just as she’d established, there were no more lies. And there was no more hiding. Rarity’s other hoof caught the tears hanging from Trixie’s eye, and gently clutched at her other cheek. “What happened next, darling?” Rarity said. Trixie sniffled and continued. “You kept telling me I was a good pony, and never even told me how or why. But it felt so good, I wanted to believe you. I haven’t believed that in a long, long time.” The showmare smiled again. Widely. “You asked me the last time I slept in a warm bed. I answered and… w-well, you know the rest.” Rarity felt Trixie struggle a bit harder against her grip, and she let go. If the seamstress didn’t know any better, she’d think Trixie looked disappointed when those hooves lifted from her face. “Not quite…” Trixie’s smile dropped. “I recall your mention that I denied a Manehatten hotel. But if I was so… inebriated… how on Earth did we make it to Ponyville. Or my Boutique for that matter.” “I knew where you lived.” Rarity’s eyes widened with something like fear, and Trixie rolled her eyes. “Amulet?” “Right, right. Of course.” Rarity said. “I suppose you’ve kept tabs on all of us during that time.” Clearly, Trixie was the designated driver, so to speak, if she was sober enough to remember what train to take. Or what a train even was. There was still one last thing, however, Rarity needed to know. “Trixie… When we arrived at my Boutique…” Rarity could see it in Trixie’s face. The fear. The panic. The blush so red it couldn’t have possibly been healthy. “Well, we got there, and… you were still so full of energy.” Trixie looked away, and this time Rarity let her. “You gave me a tour, dancing and twirling all the while. Laughing. You were so…” Rarity’s smile turned coy. “Uh… You told me what you did for a living, but I was, ah… distracted,” Trixie said. “Oh?” “By all the lovely antiques, that is!” Trixie blushed harder and took a deep breath. “You said there’s always room for one more. Then you collapsed on the floor. Just… laughing.” I must have been obliterated, Rarity thought. “When you finally remembered where your room was, I helped you upstairs. And you just kept saying I was a good pony, and deserved so much more. I tried to guide you to bed, but you just couldn’t be still and...” Rarity leaned closer and said, “And?” Trixie looked up at Rarity’s expecting eyes, her own eyes desperate for escape. “And… that’s all.” “Trixie.” Rarity noted the chest-gaping tone in her own voice, and the jump in the other mare’s shoulders. “And?” “We… talked… the rest of the night.” This time Trixie didn’t look away, almost as if staring hard enough with those glistening eyes would hide the obvious lie. “Talked.” Rarity said flatly. Trixie nodded slowly. “Talked... Rarity didn’t pry. The desperation practically leaking from Trixie’s eyes begged her not to. Instead, Rarity leaned back on her bench, pressing her matted mane against the warm tile. “Very well,” she said. Rarity noted the utter confusion on Trixie’s face, then smiled as the showmare relaxed. And after a few counted moments, Rarity sunk into the bench, and inhaled the eddies of steam, coating her airway with warmth and filling her lungs. “Did you mean any of it?” Rarity pulled away from the tile, a damp trail of purple mane on the tile, and looked down at Trixie. To Rarity’s surprise, Trixie hadn’t moved from that spot. And for the first time, she realized just how close she actually was, how warm her breath was on Rarity’s waist. “T-that’s not what I meant to say,” Trixie said, pressing a hoof hard against her temple. “I mean… They say ponies don’t lie when they’re drunk. And I knew you wouldn’t remember anything the next morning, but what about now? Am I… Do you still think…?” Rarity smiled. “That depends, darling,” she said leaning closer to the other mare. “Did I really agree to you cooking breakfast that night?” And there it was: the flattened ears, the glistening eyes, the bitten lip. Finally, every question Rarity had for that whole week was answered. Like a filly with her hoof caught in the cookie jar, Trixie lowered her head and shook it. “I… I didn’t mean to lie to you. Hay, I didn’t even want to be there when you woke up. I just…” Rarity’s smile dropped at that. And Trixie caught it. “I just wanted to be all those things you said. To see if I could. To see if it was enough to count.” Rarity tilted her head and said, “Count?” Her voice was kind, gentle as the steam slicking their coats. “Count for what?” Trixie started shaking, and Rarity saw that terrible, unacceptable moisture in those eyes. “For… for all the horrible things I’ve—“ Rarity pressed her hoof against those soft blue lips. “Trixie. You’re a good pony,” she said. She meant it. And as Trixie’s ears rose like the corners of her mouth, Rarity was sure she’d never meant anything more in her entire life. “You’ve changed so much…” Rarity whispered. She meant that too. Trixie had changed. From the morning she’d first woke beside Rarity, Trixie made that quite clear. She was well-mannered, dutiful, and clean. She didn’t parade around Carousel Boutique like she owned it. She didn’t try to poison her or her cat—although the burnt meals were a close second. She didn’t try to seize Ponyville and bear down on it with a domineering hoof. No. For six days, Trixie had subjugated herself to near-slavery to please her hostess. To be a good pony. And she’d succeeded entirely. “Of course,” Rarity withdrew her hoof, “if you’re still unsure…” She tilted and caressed the back of her neck with the tiniest cringe. “I’ve had the most dreadful creak in my neck and back lately.” Trixie’s ears jutted up, alert and ready. Rarity couldn’t help but giggle, remembering that exact reaction whenever she asked Trixie a favor. Like dimming the lights, making tea, or reading to her. “Lie down for me.” The edge of finality to Trixie’s words took the oxygen right from Rarity’s chest. And for reasons that frightened her more than foal-sitting, Rarity grew excited—eager for the hooves that would press and roll against her tense, delicate backside. Rarity watched Trixie back away, ignoring the blurry vision that had everything to with the steam, she decided. With a feather-light touch, Rarity’s hooves were on the tile and her soft belly followed suit. As she crossed her arms beneath her chin, Rarity waited. And waited. For several moments, the seamstress felt no hooves on the slick of her back. The seconds ticked on, Rarity tensed, and her face reddened. “Trixie?” There was a small gasp. “O-oh! I’m sorry, I, ah… zoned out for a moment,” Trixie said. Rarity nearly jumped the showmare’s long-anticipated touch. “You’re just so…” Rarity couldn’t not smile by this point. And a mischievous tug in her chest sharpened that smile. “Hm? What was that, dear?” Rarity asked. “I-I… Nothing. I’m just rambling again,” Trixie replied. Rarity raised a brow. “Oh? Distracted by all the antiques in the steamroom, I see,” she teased. Considering there were no antiques in the steamroom at all, Rarity received nothing but silence. And with a taut flex of her back, she smiled even more at Trixie’s breathless huff. Finally, Trixie’s other hoof joined the cause, and she got right to work. And Rarity was certain she’d never been more uncomfortable in her entire life. Indeed, Trixie made well on her silent promise, pressing and rolling her hooves against Rarity’s back. Actually, those hooves buried themselves in Rarity’s shoulder blades, and she hissed through her teeth. “How does that feel?” “It… it feels—” Rarity cringed. “Ough.” A sharp breath escaped Trixie’s nose, and Rarity shivered as it brushed against her glistening back. Those rough inexperienced hooves changed their technique, caressing Rarity’s neck with little circles instead. “Better?” Trixie asked. Rarity tensed again, and Trixie frowned. “N-no,” Rarity answered, her arms now uncrossed and prone to the tile. “Maybe you should—“ “No. I got this.” With a defeated whine, Rarity pressed her cheek against the floor and tried to think of all the good in her life. It was strange that every blessing she counted—the same ones she counted when Sweetie Belle and her friends slept over—now had a splash of Trixie to them. But every time she meditated on that, those damned hooves pushed a muscle the completely wrong way, or came a bit too close to cramping a joint. “Guh. Trixie, I beseech you,” Rarity said, lifting her head off the tile, “Let us find another way to—“ “No!” Rarity’s eyes darted left and right as a firm hoof pressed against her head. “I can do this. Just relax.” Rarity frowned. “It hurts. And I’d very much appreciate it if you—“ Trixie swiftly threw a hind leg over Rarity’s dock and straddled her down. Rarity’s sentence was sucked right back in with a sharp gasp. “Trixie is going to please you, and that is the last we will speak of it!” Ironically, in any other circumstance—say, if Trixie had a clue what she was doing—she might’ve had a point there. But Trixie was failing; Rarity was not pleased. And as those hooves dug and crushed into her back even harder, grinding muscle to bone, Rarity was quite sure she’d wake up in the hospital, paralyzed from the neck down. Soon, however, Rarity’s desperate grimace furrowed into a deep dark scowl. Right then, the urge to buck her assailant off and trample on her, blurred her eyes. She couldn’t tell if it was her instinct to escape from danger, or the maddening notion that Trixie literally tried to hurt her. Maybe Trixie hadn’t changed after all. Maybe the last six days were just a ploy. Maybe Trixie just wormed into Rarity’s life—got her comfortable, got her attached—for this single moment. Just as Rarity thought the first time. Rarity was stupid to second guess herself; Trixie being at the right place and time for Fluttershy to walk in? Crafting a story with such deftness and skill that Rarity started to believe it herself? Leaving Carousel Boutique, knowing full well how much that threatened Rarity’s reputation? How could she have been so blind? “Almost…” Trixie hadn’t changed at all. She was still the same deceitful creature that contaminated Ponyville’s soil with her ‘magic tricks’. The same soulless tyrant that made Rarity sew the most horrendous mockeries to old-world art in Trixie’s honor. “If I can hit just the right spot…” But Rarity would have no more of it. She’d buck this evil incarnate off her dock and turn her into the proper authorities. She should have done that when they woke in bed together— “There!” A deep crackle and pop echoed into the steam room. “Uhnga!” Rarity’s body went as rigid as a tree trunk, then turned to complete mush. With a rather spectacular thud, her face hit the tile. “Mmmmm…” Trixie relaxed her own muscles, her strokes now gentle and rhythmic. “Now. How does that feel?” she asked. Rarity could hear the smirk in Trixie’s voice and frowned. With her strength quickly zapping, Rarity lifted her face and pressed her chin against the tile. She wanted to say she didn’t like it—that Trixie was still hurting her—and three different times, she made the attempt. If not for the raspy moans escaping her throat, Rarity may have very well succeeded. Trixie huffed above her and said, “Would you believe I’ve never done this before?” The remarkable list of answers to that erased Rarity’s frown, but when she picked one of those answers, those sickening, detestable, marvelous hooves pushed and popped knots out of her lower back. Between the growing warmth on her dock, and swearing those knots weren’t there before, Rarity simply didn’t know what was right anymore. One moment she was ready to turn Trixie in, and actually watch the trial where they’d sentence her for her crimes. The next, Rarity was biting back moans and wholly believing she would die if those hooves ever stopped. A deeper knot popped from Rarity’s lower back. “Oh, Trixie…” Rarity didn’t even have the decency to blush when Trixie giggled above her. For minutes, the steam room was filled with crackles and breathless moans. The knots that shouldn’t have been there were long-since gone, but the massage continued, filling Rarity’s vision with a different kind of haze. The haze she saw as she snuggled in bed. The haze she saw when Trixie turned off the lights and crawled into that same bed. A cold spike met Rarity’s heart at the thought. Falling asleep here would surely have terrible consequences. Ponies who’ve waited in line far too long could’ve barged in and gawked at the spectacle. Some who may’ve been eavesdropping could’ve blown the whistle to Lotus and Aloe and got her permanently banned. Or worse—much, much, worse—Rarity could’ve woke up in that steam room alone, cold and abandoned. She would cast her head to and fro, searching, gently calling Trixie’s name. But there’d be only silence, only her, her drenched coat, and her thoroughly pleased and relaxed muscles. Rarity would leave that steam room to discover her session already paid for. And after a long futile search around town, Rarity would return home. Alone. She’d close the door behind her and see, for the first time, how empty Carousel Boutique truly was. She’d enter her kitchen and make her own daffodil sandwich for the first time in a week. And eat it alone. She’d notice the shamble she’d left the place before she left. And clean it alone. She’d idly doodle some design she’d never use. And mull over it alone. Finally, when nighttime cast its shadow over the sky, Rarity would crawl in that bed, nearly forgetting to turn off the lights. She’d snuggle against those covers, eyes wide and alert. Waiting. But nopony else would come. Nopony else would crawl under those covers with her. Rarity would realize just how cold her bed truly was. And sleep alone. For days onward—weeks, months, maybe even years—Rarity would wake up alone. All alone. “Rarity…” a gentle voice that couldn’t have possibly belonged to Trixie whispered. “Rarity, wake up.” Right then, Rarity felt her own shivers, and the muzzle nudging behind her ear. With a croaky moan, the unicorn’s eyes fluttered open. “You fell asleep.” Rarity shivered again, hearing every tone in Trixie’s voice for the first time. “Bad dream?” “Yes, I…” Rarity lost herself in Trixie’s closeness, her ear twitching at the scorching breath. “Thank you.” “Mhmm…” Trixie cooed. Rarity smiled and purred at the muzzle once again nudging her ear. With eyes closed and head tilted, Rarity allowed the affection, embraced it, invited it. And the affection came, those blue lips and nose brushing diligently unto her. Rarity purred again, turned her head, and burrowed her own muzzle under Trixie’s chin. The showmare’s breath hitched, but soon it released gustily and she met Rarity’s actions with her own. Rarity paused at the soft lips brushing against her ear, but for only a moment. She continued her nuzzling, harder, more forceful. And her own lips brushed against Trixie’s cheek. They stopped and they stared. One looking up, the other looking down. Eyelids halved. Breath shallow and quiet. Thoughts gone. Reason gone. Consequences damned. They pushed forward and crushed their lips together. It was beautiful. A union that cast even Rarity’s finest art into the garbage pile, that turned Trixie’s greatest, most revered stage performance into child’s play. A stumbling, desperate dance of lips, tongues, and years of denied affection. They stopped, and with a mutual smack from their lips, jerked their heads back with broad eyes. “I-I’m sorry,” Trixie said. “No, no, I… don’t know what came over me,” Rarity replied. Rarity only just realized Trixie was still straddling her after she was dismounted. With red faces and stomach turning silence, both mares stood and faced one another. “We… should go,” Trixie said. “Before we dehydrate.” As Trixie sauntered passed her, Rarity strained to look away, but her ears followed Trixie’s every step, and her heart pulled tight the farther Trixie became. Then, she felt it again. The same stomach twisting sickness she felt as Trixie left her Boutique for the first time. The ‘something worse’. Trixie’s every step were like guns firing at Rarity’s ear, growing louder and deeper the farther she went. And right then, at that very moment, Rarity knew what she was missing. She knew a lot things in that moment. Things that ‘old’ Rarity would laugh at. She now knew the answer to every question. She knew that Trixie was indeed a good pony. And she knew, more than ever before, how much she liked good ponies. Trixie left the steamroom, and hastily--wordlessly--Rarity followed. In silence they traveled the cold hallway leading to the front desk. They paid for their session in that same silence, completely unaware of those same sideways glance from Lotus and Aloe. They left the spa, their every step weightless and aloof, walking close. More than a few heads turned as they continued along the path, staring in awe. But it was fine. Those ponies didn’t exist. Not to Rarity. They didn’t exist on the way back to Carousel Boutique. And they didn’t exist when they arrived. Rarity stepped ahead and opened the door, reprimanding herself again for leaving it unlocked. She got over it, though. There were bigger things to take care of. Important things. “Rarity. Listen, I…” Beautiful things. Rarity stomped her hoof on the doorstep and said, “Not another word.” Trixie jumped a bit, and shrank away from her hostess. Rarity turned to the other unicorn, and nearly showered her with apologies when she saw that dejected, terrified face. “I’ve given it much consideration, and I think…” Rarity’s face grew hot. “I think, if we’re to move on, and avoid future hang-ups, we should… talk… about what happened at the spa this afternoon.” Instantly, the fear melted from Trixie’s face, and there was only confusion. Rarity waited a beat. Then that confusion turned to avid, wide-eyed wonder. And maybe, still, a little fear. “T-t...talk?” Rarity turned toward her shop and walked, making doubly sure her tail brushed under Trixie’s chin. She walked on. Slowly. Deliberately. Swayingly. She looked back with eyes that only years of honed femininity could give, and--as she expected--saw a blue face not quite as blue as it used to be. Trixie wordlessly followed her. That door glowed with magic. And shut gently behind them.