Playing With Fire

by Timaeus

2. Fanning Flames

With one last run through her mane, Rarity set her brush down on her vanity. The mare that stared back at her from the mirror was, though she dared not say it out loud, stunning. A lady was humble, but nopony could fault her for a little pride today. Her mane, curled and styled into locks of royal purple, fell around her face, bouncing lightly with every movement. Her coat, pristine and white as freshly fallen snow, was as smooth as velvet to the touch and as soft as the clouds pegasi coveted so.

Then, tilting her head to the side just so, she tried a smile and fluttered her eyes. Oh, and what eyes she boasted. The little filly in her imagined that poets would compare them to two pools of blue brighter and more precious than any sapphire in Equestria. And when they captured the light just right, as they did now, they would whisk a pony’s heart away as if bewitched by some impossible-to-resist enchantment.

Fillyhood dreams, she knew, but every mare deserved to indulge in a little whimsy from time to time.

Every day was a day to impress, but today in particular stood out from the rest. The work was complete, the dress finished, and now all that was left was the show. And, if it was anything like the last visit, it would be quite the show. That thought brought a little swish of Rarity’s tail and a giggle from her lips.

In the reflection of her mirror, a small, marshmallow-white head poked in through her bedroom door. A pair of pale green eyes fixed on the back of her head as their owner’s face pulled into a slight frown. “Rarity, are you still getting ready? You’ve been up here forever!”

“Now, now, Sweetie Belle,” Rarity said, turning her head to smile at her little sister, “it’s important to take one’s time when getting ready for a big day.”

The frown lingered as Sweetie walked into the room, her saddlebags wrapped around her barrel and her two-toned tail of pink and purple flicking behind her. She stopped at Rarity’s side, staring up first at the elder unicorn and then at the vanity. “You mean for your special appointment?”

Rarity nodded, glancing over her appearance once more out of the corner of her eye. Perfect. “Precisely. Now—” Leaning down, she nosed against Sweetie’s cheek, prompting a smile and giggle from the foal. “—are you all ready to go? You don’t want to keep Apple Bloom and Scootaloo waiting.”

“I’ve been ready for the last ten minutes.” Sweetie’s eyes swept over the vanity, from the brushes, to the mascara, to the moisturizing cream littered over its surface. One eyebrow raising, she shifted her gaze to Rarity, an unasked question clear as day written over her expression.

Knowing her sister, the question would come anyways, rain or shine.

“Who’s the appointment with?”

Some may have called her smile coy as she let out a tittering laugh and started for the bedroom door. “Why, a client of course. Who else would I be seeing?”

The pitter-patter of Sweetie’s hooves followed her out the door and down the hall to the stairs. “You know what I mean!” Though Rarity kept her head held high, the curly locks of her sister’s mane bobbed in the corner of her vision. “I know you’re meeting with a client, but who’s your client?”

“Somepony who I am sure would rather be kept anonymous. Like I said, a special client.”

As they walked down the stairs, Rarity could hear the frown in Sweetie’s voice. She didn’t need to look to see the her brow furrowed and her gaze downcast as she tried to piece together the puzzle. “I looked at your calendar for today,” she said, prompting a flick of the ear. “You don’t have anypony else supposed to come in at all.”

Rarity nodded, keeping her smile polite. A good smile, she learned, was an excellent mask, even against the likes of nosy, but endearingly curious, little sisters. The sign by the door was turned to ‘CLOSED’, something she was certain Sweetie would pick up on if she wasn’t hurried on her way. “I don’t want any interruptions. This is a very important opportunity for me, Sweetie, and you know how some ponies can linger over the smallest details.”

To that, Sweetie made a face, the sort that Rarity would have to remind her not to wear in certain circles. “I guess.”

“Good.” Rarity’s smile eased as they walked into the foyer. The mannequins and dress racks usually kept in the middle of the showroom were pushed to the side, leaving the room open and spacious—exactly how it should be for an important dress showing. The dress in question sat in the middle of the room, pulled with care over a mannequin and covered with a blanket. The most important part, naturally, was the reveal.

The stage was set, ready just behind the dress, and the mirrors stood just beyond it. All it needed was its star. And what a star she would be. It may have taken her a couple nights of careful thought and little sleep, but once Rarity found her muse she was oh so happy to let it sweep her off of her hooves. It carried her away, leading her magic and needle until a dress that was simply Spitfire hovered before her, every bit as daring, fiery, and alluring as its soon-to-be owner.

“Now, then,” Rarity said, forcing her gaze back around, “do you have everything?”

Usually, Sweetie Belle would roll her eyes at such a question. This time, however, she stood between Rarity and the door, looking at the stage and covered mannequin. Gears turned behind her pale green eyes, a shade shy of Neighponese jade. “Rarity?”

Rarity smiled, the picture of innocence. One day, Sweetie would see through her mask and games, but not this day. “Yes, Sweetie Belle?”

“This special client coming in,” Sweetie said slowly, her nose wrinkling with each word. When she focused her gaze on Rarity and narrowed her eyes, a bead of sweat formed on the back of the older unicorn’s neck. “How special are they?”

“The special kind, of course.”

Comprehension dawned behind Sweetie’s eyes. Her mouth dropped into a small ‘o’ that she hid behind her hoof. “Is that why you were taking so long brushing your coat and mane?”

Clicking her tongue, Rarity opened the door with a glow of her horn. “Hush now, Sweetie Belle. Such things are far too grown up to discuss with you now. Besides, Apple Bloom and Scootaloo are waiting!” Lifting Sweetie up in her magic, she turned the filly around and nudged her towards the open door. “Go on and play.”

“Rarityyyyy!” A high, plaintive whine sounded from Sweetie’s throat, making Rarity wince and lose focus on her spell. The second her horn winked out, she felt a tugging on her shoulder and a curled mane smelling of her sister’s favourite vanilla shampoo bobbing under her nose. “I’m not a foal anymore! I have a cutie mark now! I know what ‘special’ means and if you want ‘special’ time with your ‘special’ client, then I’ll go!”

Though the filly in her giggled at the heavy-handed implication of Sweetie’s words, Rarity churned out a light, airy laugh in its place. “Now, now, Sweetie. I never said anything like that.” She brushed off the hoof grabbing at her shoulder and smoothed out her coat. “It’s impolite to assume.”

Sweetie pouted with all of the age and experience of a young filly. “But your coat! Your mane! Your everything!”

Rarity shook her head and walked for the door. Sweetie followed, hot on her hooves. “A lady always takes care of their appearance, no matter the occasion.”

Sweetie jumped in front of her as they reached the doorway, foalish stubbornness hardening her expression and steeling her gaze. “Then why were you practicing those faces in the mirror?” she asked, pointing a hoof at Rarity’s chest. “I saw!”

This time, Rarity could not stop the flick of her ear or the way she sucked her lips between her teeth. Caught, but not finished. “Well,” she said, sliding her gaze from left to right. Her mask fallen, she ducked her head. She brought herself eye-to-eye with her sister and let her hopeful, if pained, smile show. “How does thirty bits to buy ice cream and treats with your friends sound?”

The jingling of bits broke Sweetie’s resolve. Her ears perked and her eyes darted over Rarity’s shoulder where a brown cloth bag of bits hovered in her magic. In an instant, she smiled and threw her hooves around her neck. “Thanks, Rarity!”

Rarity swallowed a sigh of relief as she felt Sweetie nuzzle her neck. Patting her back, she said, “Of course, darling. Be careful, but have fun. I’ll see you tonight.”

“You bet!” Springing up, Sweetie grabbed the bits with her own magic’s glow and darted for the door. “Bye, Rarity!”

Rarity let herself sigh now, shoulders sagging as she heard her sister’s saddlebags thump rhythmically against her sides with every galloped step taken out of Carousel Boutique. Though more of an afterthought, she lifted her head and called out, “And no wandering into the Everfree again! If I so much as hear anything, you’ll be grounded for a week!”

She could all but hear Sweetie rolling her eyes as she called back, “I won’t Rarity! I’ll be—” her voice and beating hoofsteps came to a sudden halt. “Captain Spitfire?”

Halfway out of her mouth, Rarity’s sigh turned to something heavier. She brought her hoof to her forehead and massaged a spot under the base of her horn. Of course.

Lighting her horn, she reached for her purse and another small pile of bits within just as Spitfire’s raspy voice tickled her ears. “Hey, kiddo. How’s it going?”

Her best smile in place, Rarity pranced to the door, her bits floating in her wake. It was a sunny day in Ponyville, the perfect weather for her to step outside. There, just outside her door, she found Sweetie Belle staring slack jawed at the pegasus in front of them. Her voice, when she spoke, came out an octave or two higher than usual. “What are you doing here?”

Spitfire, for her part, smiled at Sweetie Belle. She ran a hoof through her mane, as windswept and fiery as it was almost a week ago, and said, “I’m here to see a pony about a dress.” At the sound of Rarity’s hooves, she looked up. When her amber eyes found hers, they lit up, seeming to glow with a colour as soft and as alluring as the sunset. The corner of her mouth lifted, turning her grin to a proper smirk. “Speak of the devil.”

Tilting her head to the side, Rarity felt her grin grow. A certain amount of satisfaction was in order. It wasn’t every day that a muse so bold swept her away. “Spitfire, it’s good to see you. You’re earlier than expected.”

Sweetie gawked, head whipping from side to side as she looked at each pony in turn. “Your ‘special’ appointment with your ‘special’ client is Spitfire?”

“Special, huh?” Feathers ruffled as Spitfire arched a brow.

“Quite,” Rarity said, looking down to her sister. “Sweetie Belle, this is Captain Spitfire. Spitfire, this is my little sister, Sweetie Belle.”

Spitfire cocked her head to the side, looking from Sweetie to Rarity. After a moment, she nodded her head. “Little sister, huh? Should’ve figured. Nice to meet you.”

“I—” Much like a fish, Sweetie’s mouth bobbed open and closed. “Why is Spitfire—”

“Captain Spitfire, Sweetie,” Rarity said, cantering the last few steps to her younger sister’s side. “And I’m sure you can understand why she wants to keep this whole visit hush-hush now, don’t you? She’s just here to try on a dress I’ve made for her. It’s hardly the time for her to be swarmed by her adoring fans.”

“Your sister’s doing me a huge favour,” Spitfire chimed in, sparing a wink for Rarity as she smirked at Sweetie. “And I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t tell anypony that I’m in town.”

Sweetie looked up at Spitfire, eyes still dancing between her and Rarity. “But—” she babbled. “But—”

“But nothing. You heard her, Sweetie.” With a gentle smile, Rarity lifted Sweetie’s chin with her hoof. “I would also consider it quite the favour if you were to keep this to yourself, even from Apple Bloom and Scootaloo. Promise?” The bits hovering behind her floated over and slipped into her sister’s saddlebags. “Do make sure that you all have a good time, though.”

Sweetie licked her lips, pawing the ground with one hoof. Then, with a jerky nod, she sidestepped away from the two mares. “Okay, I won’t tell anypony. I’ll see you after your ‘special’ appointment!”

For the third time this morning, Rarity sighed. As she watched Sweetie take off down the street, she heard Spitfire sidle up next to her. “So,” she started, drawing her attention in with a chuckle, “how long before she tells the whole town?”

Straightening, Rarity glanced to the side, taking her first good look at Spitfire. The sun seemed to wrap around her fur, as smooth as velvet to the eye, and bend around her curves and the toned, taut muscle underneath her coat. Somepony else spent a little extra time brushing today, too. “I don’t think we have to worry about her telling the whole town. Sweetie’s a good girl and she’ll try to keep her word.”

An amused grin spread over Spitfire’s muzzle. “Try?”

“I’m more worried about her friends, you see.” With a fond smile and shake of her head, Rarity exhaled. Not quite a sigh, but close. There had been enough sighs for one day. “Sweetie means well, but she’s not the best at keeping secrets. Her friends will needle it out of her sooner or later.” She turned to Spitfire, flashing a dazzling smile. “All the more reason for us to get started!”

“Sounds good.” Grin still in place, Spitfire followed Rarity as she led them back indoors. Once the door was shut, she stretched out her wings, fluffing her feathers for an audience of one. “So, this is a ‘special’ appointment, huh?” The very tips of her primaries traced over her back, making the fur stand on end where it touched. “How special is ‘special?’”

Though Rarity’s breath wanted nothing more than to catch at the contact, she straightened it out by clearing it through her throat instead. A subtle, delicate touch, easily played off under the guise of stretching after a long flight. Impressive. Her voice as smooth and as composed as ever, she said, “Well, how often does a designer have the Captain of the Wonderbolts order a dress? I’d say this is quite special indeed.”

“I’d say so, too. Maybe for different reasons, though.” Chuckling, Spitfire withdrew her wings. “So, where’s the dress?”

“Right this way.” Rarity waved a hoof and, with a little prance in her step, led Spitfire to the stage and veil in the middle of the room. Her client raised an eyebrow, to which she was delighted to answer. “I thought a showmare such as yourself would appreciate a bit of suspense before the reveal.”

Spitfire cracked a grin. She stopped next to Rarity, close enough for her wing to reach around her barrel if she so wished it, and eyed the mirrors, the stage, and the veiled mannequin. “Can’t say I don’t appreciate the effort.”

Rarity made no move to edge away. She brought her hoof to her chest and lifted her nose to the ceiling. “If you appreciate the dress at least twice as much, then I’ll consider the job done to my satisfaction.”

Again, Spitfire chuckled, a warm, raspy sound. “Setting the bar pretty high for yourself, aren’t you?”

“Darling, please.” Grinning what she knew was a pretty little smile, Rarity fluttered her eyes. “I strive for the best and will settle for nothing less. Surely you of all ponies can understand that.”

“Yeah, I get it.” Spitfire in turn stood her tallest, flexing the muscles around her shoulders as she puffed her fluffy, golden chest out. “I don’t settle for anything other than the best, either, in everything I do. Flying, running my team, and,” she added, grin sharpening to a meaningful smirk, “everything else.”

Rarity returned the chuckle with a tittering laugh. The meaning behind Spitfire’s words was obvious, but there was still business to conduct. “I would expect nothing less. Now then, your dress.” Once more, she cleared her throat as she gestured to her latest masterpiece. “I hope you’ll be as taken as I am with the design. It took some time to find the right inspiration and material, but, in my humble opinion, you’ll be the talk of the ball! I spared no expense, using some of my silk imported from Saddle Arabia as a matter of fact.”

Feathers ruffled by her side as Spitfire nodded. “That’s not cheap stuff to get.”

“Heavens, no. Luckily, I know a friend of a friend who makes occasional business ventures overseas.” The lighting in Carousel Boutique was perfect for Rarity to turn her head and regard Spitfire with the light shining in her eyes. “Besides, for the right mare and the right event, any expense is easily justified.”

The tips of Spitfire’s ears twitched. “Is that so?”

“I would certainly hope so. This will be the ball of balls and you’re not just anypony. I believe that every mare, be they a Wonderbolt or anything else, should have a chance to be radiant.” It may have been wrong for Rarity to delight in the way Spitfire’s eyes widened or how the tips of her wings trembled, but she did anyways. “Now, after having made many dresses for Rainbow Dash over the years, I am aware that sometimes dresses can make flying difficult. I used less material for that reason, and I thought you would appreciate the flexi—”

It wasn’t often that Rarity let her train of thought escape her mid-sentence, but as she felt a certain, soft, downy something graze down her side, she made an exception. Again, the brushing sensation came, threatening to send a shiver across her body. Narrowing her eyes, she looked to her side and, sure enough, found the tips of goldenrod feathers a hair’s breadth from her coat. While Spitfire nodded her head, expression neutral save for the tiny smirk playing across her lips as she stared straight ahead, her primaries ruffled and circled down her barrel, nearing her cutie mark with each pass.

Playful. Bold, risky, but playful. Almost endearingly so.

“I do appreciate it. It’s one of the reasons I don’t dress up much outside of my officer’s uniform,” Spitfire said, eyes flicking over to Rarity. “Something the matter?”

“No, but—” Rarity cleared her throat for a third time to hide a squeak as Spitfire’s feathers trailed down her fur again. “Spitfire, I do believe your wings are wandering where they shouldn’t.”

“Are they?” Amusement coloured Spitfire’s voice, but she fluffed her feathers and withdrew her wings to her sides. “Huh. My bad. Sometimes these puppies have minds of their own. So, this dress.” By Celestia, Rarity could hear the smirk in her tone. It was no wonder Rainbow Dash looked up to her so. “Think I could see it?”

Tail flicking to the side, Rarity took the chance to level Spitfire with a stare. Well, if that’s how it’s going to be ...

With a sudden smile, Rarity gripped the corner of the veil in her magic. “You’re quite right. Enough talk! Let actions, as they say, speak for us.”

As soon as the dress was revealed, Spitfire’s jaw dropped. The smug grin was satisfactorily wiped from her muzzle as her ears perked straight up. “Whoa.”

Smugness was not a quality Rarity liked to associate with. But, in the face of Spitfire’s reaction, it was oh so tempting to pick up where the pegasus left off. “I’m glad you approve. Before you start lavishing me in praise, though, why don’t you try it on?”

And try it on she did. With a little application of magic, the dress slid free of its mannequin and into Spitfire’s waiting hooves. Once the mannequin was removed from the stage, she took its place, sliding the dress over her head and around her barrel. By the time they fitted her wings through, even Rarity had to admit that she had, once more, outdone herself.

As Spitfire turned in slow circles on the stage, watching her reflection in each of the mirrors, Rarity looked on with a keen eye to appreciate her work. Though there were a few pieces to touch up on—adjusting the cuts for the wings for a more relaxed fit, tightening up the back of the dress to better show off Spitfire’s legs and flanks—the pegasus before her was, by any metric, gorgeous.

The colour of the fabric was a natural choice. Spitfire, even the name itself evoked thoughts of the trails of fire she left in the sky. Everything about the mare, from the way she carried herself, to the sound of her voice, to the flamelicked mane and cutie mark on her flank, was defined by a fire that drew ponies in from around her. Red and orange to compliment the golden yellow of her coat, an easy decision to make.

The results, Rarity was proud to observe, were nothing short of spectacular. The dress was, as she promised, scant in terms of quantity of material. While not risque by any means, the cut of the dress was deep enough to allow a tuft of chest fur to peek out from the dress, almost as if to invite a lover to nuzzle deep within. Similarly, the cut in the back of the dress led higher up, inviting gazes of passersby in much the same way to pause and admire Spitfire’s hind legs and offer a teasing glimpse of the toned flank above.

“Marvellous,” Rarity said, clapping her hooves as Spitfire unfurled and spread her wings. “Simply marvellous!”

Like grassfire, Spitfire would sweep across the ballroom.

“It’s ... wow.” Disbelief rang in Spitfire’s voice as she turned and inspected herself in her new dress from every angle. When she turned back to Rarity, her amber, glowing eyes were alight with surprise. A small smile replaced the constant grin or smirk she had grown accustomed to. “I don’t know what to say. I look incredible.”

“I’m inclined to agree.” Hiding her giggle behind her hoof, Rarity started to wander the stage in a slow circle, searching for any imperfections to remedy. “Yes, I think this is the perfect dress for you, Spitfire. All that’s missing,” she said, reaching with her magic for an object resting on one of the mannequins pushed to the side, “is the mask.”

In a field of bright blue, the mask floated over to the stage. Spitfire held herself still while Rarity lowered it over her muzzle. Much like her mane, it was an orange plucked from a wildfire, leaving her eyes bare as two glowing pools of molten amber.

“Voila. The ensemble is complete.”

Spitfire turned, grinning at what she saw in the mirrors. “What gave you the idea?” she asked, tugging on the shoulder of the dress. She angled her wings and swished her tail, watching her reflections all the while. “You said you were looking for your muse. Where’d you find it?”

“I thought you’d never ask!” Smiling brightly, Rarity finished her circle around the stage, stopping before Spitfire. “As I’m sure you’re aware, a pony in my profession has to have a certain eye for detail. When making a custom dress like yours, one has to be able to pick out the best features of the client and make them shine. Now, granted, you gave me plenty to work with.”

At that, Spitfire turned to grin at her. The mask, though a poor disguise, gave her grin a certain air of mysterious allure and heightened the glow of her eyes. How many ponies would be drawn in, captivated by them on the night of the ball? “That a fact?” She fluffed her feathers, spreading her powerful wings. “I noticed your ‘eye for detail’ was pretty fixed around these before.”

Rarity allowed her smile to shift into something decidedly more catlike. “Yes, your wings are quite impressive. Although,” stepping closer, she tilted her head to the side as Spitfire drew her head up to look down at her, “I do believe there’s something more stunning that I don’t think you quite recognize.”

Spitfire blinked. Under her mask, Rarity could see her brow furrowing. “What?”

“It’s quite understandable how they can go overlooked,” Rarity said, a low hum reverberating in her throat. “A Wonderbolt has to pay attention to their body’s fitness, after all. And you are no exception. However, what’s truly most striking about you aren’t your wings, your physique, or even your mane.”

The tips of Spitfire’s wings twitched. “Then what is?”

“Why, your eyes, of course.” Rarity stared up, allowing the smallest of shivers to dance down her spine as she held Spitfire’s gaze. “They remind me of a glowing hearth late at night. Like liquid fire, they are soft, warm, and inviting. And, might I add, beautiful when they light up.”

Even under the orange of her mask, Rarity saw the faintest bit of red blossom over Spitfire’s muzzle. She shifted her weight, rustling her feathers. “Oh. Uh, really?”

Pegasi might like to tease and flirt with their wings, but nothing could compare to deftly chosen words. Giggling, Rarity backed away and turned to the mirrors. “I don’t believe in baseless flattery, Spitfire. Once I found my muse, the rest came naturally.”

In the mirrors’ reflections, Rarity watched Spitfire lick her lips and fluff her feathers. The confidence and swagger she carried herself in with vanished, no doubt evaporated by the heat of the blush that spread over her face.

How could anypony resist?

Fluttering her eyes, Rarity looked back to Spitfire with the most innocent of smiles. “Is something the matter, Spitfire?”

“No, nothing. It’s just, well.” A raspy chuckle sounded from Spitfire’s throat. A near-goofy smile eased over her muzzle as she reached back and scratched at her mane. “Geez, Rarity. Nopony’s talked about me like that before. You’ve made me blush.”

Quite the sight. Who knew Wonderbolts could be adorable? Smiling in turn, Rarity bowed her head. “Then I’ll consider the job done satisfactorily. Now, there are a few adjustments I need to make after this first fitting. Why don’t you come by on Friday to pick it up?”

“Sure.” Feathers fluffing, Spitfire held still while Rarity’s magic lifted the mask off her face, showing how far the blush truly spread, and wiggled out of the dress. She hesitated on the stage, rubbing one foreleg with the other. For a moment, she looked as if she wanted to say something as she opened her mouth, but then closed it with a shake of her head. “Thanks, Rarity.”

With a voice as smooth as silk, Rarity said, “Thank you, Spitfire. You’ve been delightful to work with.”

“And I can’t say I regret making the flight out here.” There was something warmer and less cocky to the smirk Spitfire flashed as she hopped down off of the stage. “You’re something special. See you on Friday?”

Rarity nodded once, setting the dress and mask on their mannequin. “Friday it is.”

“Right. Thanks.” Though she walked across the room to the door, again Rarity found Spitfire linger just a few steps from the doorway. In the mirrors, she watched the pegasus’ tail flick from side to side and her primaries shake and ruffle. “Actually,” she said, looking over her shoulder. The blush was all but gone from her face, leaving her eyes burning a bright, breath-taking amber. “Actually, there was something else.”

Curious, Rarity turned around and raised a single, elegant eyebrow. “Yes?”

A slow, easy smirk pulled at Spitfire’s lips. Just as slowly, she spread her wings wide, fluffing her plumage in a display that Rarity was certain many fans have only dreamt about. At the same time, she stretched one of her hind legs back, flexing the corded, toned muscle all the way from her thigh to curves of her flank. Her tail flicked to the side, and this time there was no stopping Rarity’s breath as it caught in her throat.

Nor was their stopping the fresh, burning blush from turning her pristine white cheeks a rosy red.

“Just a note that pretty, dainty little unicorns like yourself ought to be careful when playing with fire.” Spitfire’s gaze was captivating, almost unfairly so. Her eyes travelled over Rarity’s form and her tail flicked again at the sight of her blush. “If they try,” she said, licking her lips, “then they should get ready for things to get a little toasty.”

With a chuckle that trailed off into a heated purr, Spitfire snapped her wings to her side and trotted out the door. “See you Friday.”

Once more, Rarity was left alone in her boutique.

Once more, Spitfire got the last word. Only this time, Rarity found herself standing with her hoof over her chest and her mouth dry. As her heart slowed down from its frantic beating and as her breath unhitched itself from her throat, she slowly lowered her hoof to the floor, still staring at the door.

Spitfire’s—oh, there was no other way to describe it—breathy chuckle echoed in her ears. The look in her eyes rooted Rarity to the spot.

Oh. So that was how it’s going to be?

Turning back to her mannequins and mirrors, Rarity let out a little chuckle of her own. “Very well, Spitfire,” she purred, tracing a hoof over the mare’s dress. “If that’s how you want to play, then let the games begin in earnest.”

---

Two days passed, and Rarity sat in her kitchen. A cup of chamomile tea, a personal favourite, rested before her. Honey and cream added, it had cooled just enough for her to take a cautious slow sip. The date on the calendar was circled in red, though she doubted she needed the reminder.

Once more, she found herself waiting. Spitfire did not say when she would arrive. It was, in all respects, an obvious move. What better way to wind a pony up than to leave them waiting for potentially hours on end?

A sly and, if what Sweetie Belle told her was true, wicked grin spread over Rarity’s lips. Well, if that was the best Spitfire could do, then she was about to find herself thoroughly outclassed. The stretching show may have caught her off guard and may have tantalized her dreams the last two nights, but when it came to matters of finesse and romance few could hope to outdo her.

She lifted her cup to her lips in the glow of her magic and took another sip. Relishing in the warmth that spread through her, she sighed and let her gaze drift out the window. If this was how Spitfire wanted to play, then Rarity would be quite content to wait all day. With no other appointments, no orders, and Sweetie Belle out on a day trip with her friends and Fluttershy, there was nothing to distract her from what would come with patience.

And, she thought, grinning around the rim of her cup, nothing to distract her from the satisfaction of what was to come. Her eyes wandered back inside and to her kitchen table where, laying across from her, was a small card. Gold filigree in the shape of leaves on a vine wrapped around the edges of the card, more expensive than three of Applejack’s beloved apple pies at the market. What brought the smile to Rarity’s face the most, however, was what lay inside.

To Miss Rarity of Ponyville,

Your hosts, Jet Set and Upper Crust, have cordially invited you to attend the annual Canterlot Masquerade Ball.

Please present this card upon your arrival to be admitted. You are welcome to bring one guest.

We look forward to seeing you soon.

Reading the card brought a warm chuckle from Rarity’s chest and a swish of her tail. Oh yes, the stage was set. Soon, very soon, the real fun could begin.

The bell jingled above the front door, bringing with it a familiar, expected, and wanted voice. “Knock, knock?”

Rarity set her cup down on her saucer. With a smile and small giggle to herself, she slid out of her chair and lifted the garment bag from where it lay draped over another chair to lay across her back. She paused only to test the bounce of her mane against her hoof and smooth down the fur on her chest before walking out of the kitchen.

At long last, it was show time.

Spitfire stood just inside the doorway. When her eyes landed on Rarity, they lit up. “Hey.”

“Good afternoon, Spitfire.” Tail perked, dazzling smile in place, and each step measured, precise, and graceful, Rarity pranced across the room. “I hope your flight to Ponyville wasn’t a difficult one.”

To that, Spitfire chuckled. “With these at my side?” As expected, she was eager for an excuse to show off her wings once more. Breathtaking as they were, Rarity was prepared as she flared them wide and proud. The pegasus cocked her head to the side and smirked. “There’s no flight I can’t handle. I didn’t keep you waiting, did I?”

Rarity merely smiled in response. “Nonsense! I was quite happy to clear my schedule for the day. You, Spitfire, are my sole focus.”

Feathers fluffing, Spitfire’s smirk blossomed into a full grin. She wiggled her ears and said, “Anypony ever tell you you know exactly what to say to make a mare feel appreciated?”

“Not nearly as often as they should. Now, about your dress.” Horn lit, Rarity lifted the garment off of her back. It floated over to Spitfire wreathed in the sapphire blue of her magic before it settled over the other mare’s shoulders. “All of the proper adjustments have been made. Do be careful when you pack and unpack it, though. Saddle Arabian silk has a tendency to wrinkle if not handled properly.”

Spitfire eyed the garment bag, nodding her head though her ears were still trained forward, listening to every word. “Got it. How much do I owe you?”

“Oh, forget the price tag for now, darling.” Waving her hoof, Rarity fluttered her eyes. “We can settle that score once you’ve had a chance to stun everypony at the masquerade ball tomorrow evening. I want to know exactly how many heads you turn before I put a final price on anything.”

“I plan on turning heads,” Spitfire said, shifting her gaze back to Rarity. Her eyes seemed to smolder with heat, threatening to draw a pony in if there weren’t careful. “Maybe not just because of the dress, though. Now that we’re on the subject, there’s something I wanted to ask you.”

Rarity fought down a smirk to rival Spitfire’s. Instead, she tilted her head to the side, smiling an innocent little smile. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” With a little swagger adding a bit of sway to her strut, Spitfire walked a few steps closer. Her eyes, though not quite lidded, were certainly inviting. How many more dresses could Rarity design if she followed such a muse? “You know, my invitation to this ball has a big ol’ ‘plus one’ attached to it. How would you feel about waltzing into the biggest ball of the year on one of the luckiest pony’s forelegs?”

Rarity’s gasp may have been a tad more theatric than necessary, but where was the fun without a little flare? “Spitfire!” Covering her smile with her hoof, she forced her eyes wide as she stared back at the Wonderbolt Captain. “That sounded like you were just asking me to the masquerade ball!”

“Funny.” With her grin showing teeth, Spitfire held out her hoof. “That’s because that’s exactly what I’m doing. What do you say?”

Now there was no stopping Rarity’s giggle as it bubbled forth from her chest. “Oh, darling, that is so sweet of you to offer.” Reaching out, she patted Spitfire’s offered hoof, eliciting a confused furrow of the brow. Her smile, in turn, was as delightful as it could possibly be. “But I’m afraid I’m nopony’s ‘plus one.’ I am Rarity, after all!”

Slowly, Spitfire blinked, processing Rarity’s words. Then, as understanding doused the fire behind her eyes, she lowered her hoof in time with her ears. “Oh. Uh, sorry. I think I might’ve misread some signals or—”

“Besides,” Rarity continued, quite happy to interrupt Spitfire and lift her gaze back up, “how could I be your ‘plus one’ when I have an invitation of my own?”

Again, Spitfire blinked. Her ears started to perk back up as she asked, “You do?”

“But of course! Jet Set and Upper Crust are acquaintances of mine. How could I not have received one? In fact ...” In a single, polished movement, Rarity sidled up close. She felt the tips of their coat hairs brush together as she held the pegasus’ gaze. There was a definite risk, she knew, of getting lost in the amber eyes that filled her vision. But, at the same time, she knew there was just as good a chance of Spitfire getting enchanted by her own glittering, sapphire-blue eyes. “I was hoping to run into you there.”

To her delight, the bravado Spitfire carried with her vanished. The tips of her primaries ruffled and fluttered as she drew herself up to her tallest. “Oh?”

Now, Rarity thought, the fun begins.

“Why, yes.” She gently poked and traced her hoof over Spitfire’s chest, feeling the taut, toned muscle beneath her smooth, soft fur and the beating of her heart. “And, if you’re still interested to see me there, then I believe I have a little idea.”

Spitfire’s wings twitched, as if they wanted to unfurl. For a second, Rarity saw Spitfire bite down on the corner of her lip, no doubt struggling to keep them folded at her sides.

Similarly, Rarity had to bite down on her own smile.

“Well,” Spitfire said, her voice dropping to a huskier and more spine-shivering octave, “I’m listening.”

Few ponies could claim to have tut-tutted a Wonderbolt Captain, and Rarity was proud to be one of them. “Now, now, Spitfire, take it easy. We haven’t even started yet.” Her grin spoke volumes as she lightly pushed her away. The muscle of Spitfire’s chest didn’t give, not even a little. “There is a certain allure in the air of mystery at these kinds of masquerade balls, don’t you think?”

Spitfire wrinkled her muzzle at the question. “I guess?”

“Oh, but there is!” A whimsical, forlorn, and entirely practiced sigh floated past Rarity’s lips. “It’s what makes attending them so much fun! You could flirt the entire night away with some masked stranger, only for them to reveal themselves at midnight as the Duchess-in-Waiting of Breighton!” She brought her hoof to her forehead, fixing Spitfire with an enrapturing stare. “It’s a night of romance.”

The tip of Spitfire’s tail danced and flicked out of the corner of Rarity’s eye. “You know, that actually doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Doesn’t it? But,” another sigh, this one heavy, tumbled down from Rarity’s lips, “unfortunately, I know exactly what you will be wearing. That ruins some of the mystery. Although ...”

“Although?”

There was little point in hiding her smirk, so Rarity let it form and glitter in her eyes. “You don’t know what I’ll be wearing, don’t you?”

Spitfire frowned. “What’re you getting at?”

Now. Fluttering her eyelashes, she trailed her hoof down Spitfire’s chest. “Well, it’s quite simple, really. You’re the kind of pony who likes a challenge, aren’t you?” As both of her goldenrod ears perked up, Rarity giggled. “I thought so. Good, because I have a little challenge in mind for you, Captain.”

“A challenge, huh?” With her lips cocked to a smirk, Spitfire chuckled and licked her lips. “You know what challenging a pegasus can lead to, right?”

“Yes, I’m quite aware how seriously you pegasi can get with your challenges.”

“And you remember what I said about playing with fire?” A bit of heat flashed behind Spitfire’s eyes as she caught Rarity’s hoof with her own. “Because I think a certain dainty little unicorn is about to get burned.”

Snatching her hoof away, Rarity met Spitfire’s gaze with all of the confidence and calm a career spent navigating the higher social circles of Canterlot nobility could give. “Oh, I think you’ll find I’m quite adept at handling myself. Are you interested?”

“Very.”

“Good, because your challenge,” Rarity said, drawing her hoof over her chest and lifting her nose to the ceiling, “is to find me at the ball before midnight.”

“Interesting.” Spitfire hummed. “And what do I get when I find you?”

“Spoilers, darling.” Tittering out a gay, airy laugh, Rarity smiled her most devious smile. She knew then that there was no way Spitfire could resist. “If you find me, then you’ll get a mystery prize.”

Spitfire’s brow arched. Amusement and, if Rarity dared to think so herself, delight played over her features. “Alright, I’ll bite. What’s this ‘mystery prize?’”

“And ruin the mystery?” In turn, Rarity arched her brow. “You’re just going to have to find me if you want to find out. But, I can promise one thing.” Grinning her delightfully wicked grin, she stretched up until the puffs of her breath tickled Spitfire’s ear. “If you find me, your prize will be waiting to be unwrapped.”

There was a rush of wind as Spitfire’s wings flared out. Rarity heard the breath catch in her throat and, satisfied, pulled away. She was treated to a strangled squeak as she spun around, brushing her tail along the other mare’s chest and snout as she stepped away. A little over the top? Maybe. But still, it was a performance worthy of any Wonderbolt.

“You will have to find me first, of course,” she said, grinning over her shoulder. “Do you think you’re up to the task, Spitfire?”

It took a second for Spitfire to shake the stunned, smitten look from her face. She shook her head, folded her wings, and cleared her throat—though it did little to clear to blush from her muzzle. Red was indeed a lovely colour on her. When she did find her composure, she strutted forward, closing the little distance between them. “Oh, I’m up to the challenge alright.” Eyes glowing, something between a purr and a growl built up in her chest. “And when I find you, I’m so—”

Rarity silenced Spitfire with a pristine white hoof over her lips. “Ah, ah, ah! Save it for the ball, darling. Let’s savour the moment until then, shall we?”

Though her eyes flashed, Rarity felt Spitfire grin around her hoof. Slowly, she cupped it with her own hoof and gently pulled it away. “Okay, Rarity. I’ll play it your way. But just remember, when I find you at the ball tomorrow,” she said, kissing the unicorn’s wrist, “I expect to collect.”

“And I’d be happy to let you,” Rarity said, smiling in return. “If you find me.”

Poor Spitfire had no idea what she was getting herself into.

Comments

[Hodios]

Ooooh Rarity you clever mare!

Heating up~!

[JetstreamGW]

Plaintiff whine

Sweetie's whine is suing someone? :D

[NikitaKitten]

Oh-ho-ho! The hunt is on! And we know that Rarity is hardly helpless prey...

[Hobbestc]

This is going to be fun.

[Vaguely Demented]

Anyone else want a spoof chapter where Spitfire manages to mortally offend some random pony?

[forbloodysummer]

Then, as understanding doused the fire behind her eyes, she lowered her hoof in time with her ears. “Oh. Uh, sorry. I think I might’ve misread some signals or—”

Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!!!

This was a superb chapter, and that moment was by far the sweetest Spitfire I've ever seen.

It shouldn't be sweet, watching characters we like get disappointed, should it? And yet, it was adorable. Maybe because we want to hug people better when that happens?

Also, sorry, but:

She felt the tips of their coat hairs brush together as held the pegasus’ gaze.

I think there's a 'she' missing her between 'as' and 'held.'

[Seether00]

Seduction contest!

[cvvvrt]

The image above the invitation is broken (camo returns 404 and the referenced googleusercontent URL returns 403).

[Midknight Defender]

Um.

Wow.

That interaction was amazing. Novel was right about you.

[Purple-Smart Heart]

Man I haven't seen anyone write Rarity cranking the charm up over 11 so well in a long time!

[NightCoreMoon]

“Spoilers, darling.” Tittering out a gay, airy laugh, Rarity smiled her most devious smile. She knew then that there was no way Spitfire could resist. “ If you find me, then you’ll get a mystery prize.”

>gay
I see what you did there ;)