//------------------------------//
// Chapter 24 
// Story: M.F.D. 
// by kudzuhaiku 
//------------------------------//

	It was delightful watching Alfredo dusting the second floor dining area and sitting room. Alfredo was nice to look at, there was something about him. He was big, but he wasn’t musclebound. He had his fantastic tuxedo pelt so he was always so handsome. He was well proportioned, his body was an outstanding series of curves, thin places, thick places, and sexy places. 

“Alfredo?” 

“Madam?” Alfredo continued his task, which at the moment happened to be dusting the ceiling with a big fluffy feather duster. 

“Do you think the world can change?” 

The stallion cleared his throat. “The world changes all the time.” 

Holly’s eyes lingered on Alfredo’s neck, the smooth, shapely muscles intrigued her, the curve of his throat, the hard, almost sharp square angles of his jaw. Holly liked that a lot. Alfredo had a broad, well chiseled jaw, but his muzzle was narrow, almost delicate looking, the sort of fine, narrow muzzle that could work its way into hard to reach places. 

It was far too warm in the sitting room and Holly felt herself sweating. 

“No, Alfredo, do you think the world can change for the better?” 

“Madam, you keep asking me these questions. Is something bothering you?” Alfredo turned his head away from his task and looked at Holly. “Are you well, Madam? You look a bit flustered. Shall I turn down the heat?” 

“I’m fine, Alfredo,” Holly replied as she imagined Alfredo whispering the word ‘Madam’ into her ear. She shivered in much the same way she did when she emptied her bladder in the morning, a full body shiver that just felt good. “It’s like the heels are in charge, Alfredo. I came to town thinking about settling down and making a life for myself here. I got myself a job. I did all of the things adults are supposed to do. I’m trying, anyway. But I keep learning more about the world… about this city… how things are… and I feel powerless to change it. I feel like I’m fighting a match I can’t win, a rigged match, the sort of match where I have to take a dive.” 

“Madam, the odds are stacked against us. There is little we can do. The best we can hope for is to make the changes we can and live as a good example for others. I try to have good manners, be polite, be considerate, and hope I run into like minded ponies.” Alfredo placed his feather duster into a basket, pulled out some wood polish, and then pulled out a clean, absorbent cloth. “You have no hope of changing the world and believing that one can do so is folly. However, you do have the means to inspire others. The world needs heroes.” 

“Yeah, Alfredo, the world needs faces,” Holly said, her head nodding, agreeing with Alfredo. Her gaze dropped down, her eyes focusing upon the silver candlesticks in the middle of the dining table. “I think I changed one pony. Fink decided to make a heel-face turn. I had something to do with that. Maybe that’s the best I can hope for.” 

Humming to himself, Alfredo began applying the wood polish to the ceiling panels, rubbing the oily compound into the dark, rich looking wood that already seemed to glow with its own inner light. He tilted his head up, exposing his neck once more. 

And Holly watched with a great deal of interest, her attention now returned to Alfredo. Her thoughts tumbled around in her mind like trash blowing down the canyons of the city, caught up in the fierce winds that blow between buildings. Staring unabashedly at Alfredo, Holly could not help but think that the house was somehow… empty. It needed something, but she didn’t know what. It was quiet, perhaps too quiet, and something felt wrong. Holly’s eyes lingered on Alfredo’s neck, moved down to his withers, and then trailed over his well muscled ribs. She thought about Alfredo’s long legs wrapped around her barrel, squeezing her, holding her, she thought about rubbing her face against his neck, her fevered mind thought about his reassuring weight against her spine. 

Blinking, Holly snapped herself out of her reverie and looked away, her cheeks hot and flushed. She hadn’t been laid in quite some time, too long, perhaps, and her fantasies were getting away from her. She wondered how long she had been staring, and if Alfredo had noticed. She cleared her throat, feeling a tickle in the back of her mouth, and realised that she needed some air. It was far too hot in the house, it was, in fact, sweltering. It was like a hot, humid, tropical jungle. 

Holly did not care that it was blizzard conditions outside, she was going to go for a walk. 



 

Much to Holly’s consternation, Alfredo had insisted on going for a walk with her. The large, puffy, wet flakes of snow were flying in sideways, it was damp, and it was dark. Alfredo was wearing an old fashioned woollen coat that had a floppy decorative collar, a long scarf that had been secured around his neck, and was carrying a large umbrella, which he was using to try and shield her from the elements. 

Bundled up in her own coat, Holly was still far too warm. She didn’t know what was wrong, but she felt downright feverish, as though she might be sick. Alfredo was handsome and distracting in his old fashioned coat and his chivalrous behaviour with the umbrella was charming, endearing even. 

The pair made their way down the sidewalk, walking side by side, with Alfredo holding the umbrella into the wind, trying to shield Holly from the sideways flakes that swirled about. The wind howled, a fierce cry that made one worry about windigos. The sidewalk was treacherous, slippery, and while Holly was managing, Alfredo was fighting to remain upright. 

Unable to contain herself, Holly got a bad case of the giggles while Alfredo danced a jig to try and keep his balance. The wind shifted, gusted, snatched the umbrella, and then with a panicked cry, Alfredo was pulled down the sidewalk, the umbrella acting like a sail in the wind. He braced his legs, trying to get traction, but his hooves slid over the wet, icy sidewalk like a fine ship slicing through water. 

Holly ran after him, picking up the pace, a loop of her scarf slipping free from her neck and streaming out behind her. She was grinning, happy, not even aware of her own happiness, and as a helpless Alfredo went skimming down the sidewalk, Holly moved with surprising agility and speed to try and catch him. 

With her tongue hanging out from the corner of her mouth, Holly was panting with exertion, she ran beside Alfredo, ready to step in and take action if real danger presented itself. As she ran beside him, Alfredo begged and pleaded for Holly to help him stop, but Holly saw no real need to assist. Alfredo was having the time of his life, this looked like good fun, an exciting time, and potentially, a new sport was taking place. Snow sailing. 

“Madam, please!” 

Cold, damp flakes fell on Holly’s hot, moist nose, melting right away, the moisture dribbled down her muzzle, down her chin, and then froze beneath her jaw, giving her a beard of icicles. The pair went shooting down the sidewalk together, blasted through an empty intersection, there was no traffic to speak of, and kept going. With as much crusted ice and snow as there was, Holly was no longer sure if they were on the sidewalk or in the street. It didn’t seem to matter. 

The gale force wind died out, becoming a stiff breeze once again, and Alfredo coasted to a stop, looking and feeling a bit like a messed up martini; something both shaken and stirred. He shook his umbrella, trying to be rid of the snow, and then folded it up with a smart snap. He shook his head to be rid of the snowflakes on his ears and his mane, then, he threw back his head and laughed. 

For Holly, it was good to hear Alfredo laugh. It was nice to listen to, it was nice to know that he could let go and have fun like any other pony. She watched as Alfredo stowed his large umbrella in a sleeve along the side of his coat and then stomped his hooves to get the crusted ice off of his fetlocks. 

“I’m in the mood for chestnuts,” Alfredo announced, looking around and sniffing. After several seconds of standing and looking around, he took off at a trot, a broad grin on his face. 

Feeling hungry, Holly went after him, wondering how he could smell anything in the blizzard. She fell into pace with him, he was still having trouble navigating the sidewalks, his hooves slipping and sliding with each step he took. When he almost took a tumble, Holly bumped into him, keeping him upright. 

He rounded a corner and got a faceful of snow as the wind shifted. Alfredo shook his head, his ears flopping around, and using his magic, he readjusted his scarf to keep the chill wind off of his neck. The umbrella remained in its sleeve. Walking beside Alfredo, Holly’s long orange tongue whipped out and licked the snowflakes from her face. She wondered how Alfredo knew where to go. 



 

The shop was tiny, nothing more than a hole in the wall. Holly expected a street vendor, a wagon perhaps, she had seen them out and about. This place was cozy. There was a brick fireplace against the far wall, there were no tables or chairs, but there was a small open area. The counter was near the fireplace. The smell of popcorn, chestnuts, and peanuts filled the air with a wonderful, drool inducing savoury scent. 

“Do you happen to have chestnuts roasted in truffle oil?” Alfredo asked.

“Yeah,” the old, wrinkled stallion behind the counter grunted. 

“I’ll take a bag.” Alfredo, using his magic, reached into his coat, pulled out a few bits, and plunked them down upon the counter. 

The old stallion, a pegasus, shuffled away, disappearing behind a door. There was a clunk, a blast of fragrant steam, a blast of heat that came out of the door and into the room, and then another clunk. A moment later, the pegasus reappeared with a disposable brown paper feed bag, the kind that clipped on to the face and over the ears, filled with chestnuts. 

“Enjoy,” the old pegasus said as he set the chestnuts down upon the counter and then snatched up the bits with his wingtips. He then teetered off to sit down in a chair and read his newspaper. 

Lifting up the bag in his magic, Alfredo pranced off towards the fire, grinning, his long coat rustling as the snow upon it melted, causing rivulets of water to go streaming down. Holly followed after, sniffing, her mouth watering. 

“Want some?” Alfredo asked, shaking the bag. 

“Do you offer to share your nuts with every mare you meet?” Holly’s ears stood up straight as she let slip her innuendo. She watched with almost sadistic glee as Alfredo squirmed, she could see his nostrils flaring, and his breathing became heavy. 

Much to Holly’s relief, Alfredo began to snicker. It was nice hearing him laugh. He shook the bag again, causing the chestnuts inside to rattle. As Holly watched, he lifted one out, popped it into his mouth, crunched it, then, using his magic, he lifted out another and held it out to her. 

Smiling, Holly accepted, allowing Alfredo to feed her. She paused… she had eaten chestnuts before, but never with truffle oil. She took a deep breath, almost overwhelmed, closed her eyes, and very nearly melted. She crunched it up, biting down on it, crushing the nut between her broad, flat teeth. Nothing else compared. When she opened her eyes, there was another chestnut floating in front of her muzzle, and Alfredo was giving her a hopeful look. 

She ate the next nut, her eyes locked onto Alfredo, unable to look away. She watched as he chewed, his jaw muscles flexing, and her ears perked at the sounds of his scarf rustling. The nuts were salty, savoury, rich, both sweet and bitter, they were delightful. She had always just eaten them with salt and nothing else, at least, she wasn’t aware of anything else being added. 

In silence, they kept eating, Alfredo pulling two chestnuts out of the bag at a time, giving one to Holly and eating one himself. Holly, who had been staring at Alfredo all day, was now all too aware that Alfredo was staring back at her, which made her heart race with excitement. Alfredo was the sort that appreciated the finer things in life, and if he was staring at her like that… it made Holly feel good about herself. 

Holly hoped that the bag of chestnuts would last forever.