Heating Up...
Contentedly humming to herself, shaking her hips to a tune nopony else could hear, Saffron wiped down the table of customers who had just departed. It was a fantastic day; business had continued to improve, her father was far less grumpy than he used to be, and Rarity had brought her friends over to enjoy lunch. Having the Tasty Treat stand on its own merits was all well and good, but having an endorsement from the Elements of Harmony and the Princess of Friendship would almost guarantee a steady influx of diners!
She moved from the dining area and to the counter, grabbed four sets of napkin-wrapped silverware, and sashayed back to set the table she’d just cleaned. While she wasn’t normally one to rush through things, she moved with a cheerful purpose. The faster she finished tidying up, the quicker she could take a small break to chat with her friends.
“Where were we?” she began, trotting over and easing herself into a chair beside Rarity.
Blowing on a cup of steaming tea, the couture beamed over at her. “You were telling us about that marvelous blouse you’re wearing.”
“I’m not really into fashion stuff, but it does look super comfy,” Pinkie added, leaning over and drawing a hoof over Saffron’s shoulder.
Saffron giggled and batted a hoof. “Please - it’s just a simple shirt!”
“It may be simple, true, but it’s elegant all the same,” Rarity tutted. “The embroidery on the hem and cuffs is exquisite, the silk is gorgeous, and the sewing technique is exemplary! Might I ask where you got such a fetching garment?”
“There’s an old mare who makes these in my village,” Saffron merrily noted. “If you were interested, I could give you her name.”
“That would be wonderful, darling!” the seamstress chirped. “By chance, do you have any other apparel this talented mare may have crafted? I’d never copy somepony else’s designs, but I’m not above getting inspiration from other craftsmares.”
Saffron’s smile wavered and she anxiously rubbed the back of her neck. “I do, though I’m not sure you’d -”
“Could I see them?” Rarity excitedly interrupted.
“I - um - just give me a moment,” Saffron muttered, pushing herself away from the table and slipping from her seat.
She had a number of different garments that she’d brought with her to Manehattan, but there was one that was unlike the others. Turning and trotting away, she moved past the counter and to the back of the restaurant. It was funny - in the mainland of Equestria, it was rare for ponies to wear much of anything, yet that wasn’t the same in her homeland.
“I’ll be right back,” she called to her father, earning herself a small scowl for her momentary dereliction.
Through a doorway and up a flight of stairs, she made her way to the apartment she shared with her father. Much like herself, Coriander almost always had something on, yet his wardrobe couldn’t hold a candle to hers. While most of her outfits were rather plain and valued function over form, she took pride in looking her best for her customers and friends alike.
She came to a halt before her closet, pulled the door open, and reached inside to flick the light-switch. Most of her attire was neatly folded or hung to either side of the little chamber, yet a single ensemble was prominently displayed apart from the rest. As the corners of her lips turned up, she levitated the garment over to herself.
It only took her a hoofful of minutes to get dressed before she turned and proceeded back down the stairs. She’d worn the outfit more times than she could count, yet this would be the first time anypony other than herself had seen her in it. Sauntering past her father, her hooves clicking on the tiled floor of the kitchen, she emerged back into the dining area and flicked the mane from her face.
She’d had no way of knowing what Rarity or Pinkie’s reactions would be to seeing her in something so exotic, so their gobsmacked reactions gave her a moment for pause. As soon as they noticed her, her guests went wide-eyed and slack jawed. She slowed as she approached, swung her gaze to the floor, and gave a shuddering sigh. Regardless of what her friends thought of her, she’d just shown off the crown jewel of her meager collection.
“Darling,” Rarity gasped, drawing her host’s eye, “what is this heavenly garb you’re wearing?”
“It’s c…called a bedlah,” Saffron stammered, both excited and nervous. “Do you like it?”
As she finished the question, she steadily wheeled around to display the garment - well the small collection of garments. A sash cut across her chest from her right shoulder to her left side, a dress hung around her waist and fell to her fetlocks, and a veil covered her muzzle. Each piece she wore was cut of a thin, violet colored material, complimenting her eyes while contrasting the tanned tone of her hide.
Rarity’s eyes wandered over the unicorn, drinking in every little detail, before settling on the beaded chains of gold around the mare’s waist. “Are those bells?”
Nodding, Saffron grinned behind her veil. “They are, yes.”
“Interesting,” Rarity quietly remarked, rubbing her chin. “Are they ornamental or are they -”
Ching
With but a single sway of her hips, Saffron set the tiny bells to jingle. Though she’d had nopony to show her skills off to, she’d studied raqs sharqi, a traditional dance of her homeland, since she’d been a filly. She spun in place, flicked her tail, and lazily swung her head from side to side, humming as a soft ringing filled the air.
The longer she danced, the more comfortable she became - the more comfortable she became, the bolder her movements grew. There were only two other customers in the dining area, other than Rarity and Pinkie, and neither seemed to mind the spontaneous performance - if anything, the pair seemed more interested in her than they were in finishing their meal! Twisting and turning, arching her back while lowering her waist, she began losing herself.
She’d often wondered what it would be like to perform for somepony other than her own reflection, and the experience did not disappoint. Her heart beat faster and faster, her nostrils flared, and she excitedly hummed the tune louder with each passing second. Though there were only four sets of eyes on her, she felt absolutely liberated to -
“Saffron!” a familiar voice yelled in annoyance.
Snapped from her trance-like state in an instant, Saffron nearly tripped over herself. She turned and glared over at her father, despite knowing he’d been right to stop her. Though she’d only been dancing for no more than a hoofful of minutes, her performance had taken a toll on both herself and her tiny audience.
Rarity and Pinkie both sat stunned, awestruck and silent, but it was the other two customers she felt genuinely bad for. She assumed the pair were a couple, a young mare and stallion respectively, and a pang of guilt struck her for what she’d done. While the stallion was blushing heavily, practically undressing her with his eyes, his date looked none too pleased about the affair.
“R…right,” she sputtered, only then taking notice of her flagging tail. “Excuse me…”
The moment she finished speaking, she wheeled around and cantered back to the stairwell leading to the apartment upstairs. She wasn’t sure what was worse - the fact that she’d just danced for two friends and two ponies she didn’t even know, or that her cultural presentation had left her moved beyond words. Though she tried to deny it, to tell herself that it was purely a coincidence, her winking, slavering marehood spoke to how much she’d enjoyed herself.
It was only through a supreme exertion of will and several splashes of cold water to her face, after she’d changed back into her usual attire, was she able to compose herself enough to go back downstairs. A part of her felt shame for being so turned on, but another, far more overpowering portion of her id was positively thrilled. Racing down the stairs, seeing Pinkie standing at the counter, she gulped.
“Sorry,” she bleated, rushing up beside her father, “I didn’t mean to cause such a distraction.”
Batting a hoof, Pinkie beamed as she handed a hoofful of bits over to Coriander. “It’s fine, trust me. Honestly, I thought that dance of yours was super cool!” she exclaimed, shaking her rump and bobbing her head.
Looking past the earth pony, seeing that Rarity and the other two customers had apparently left, Saffron scrunched her snout. “Did Rarity leave? I was hoping to tell her goodbye before we parted ways.”
“She bolted out as soon as you ran off,” Pinkie gleefully replied, fishing a folded napkin from her mane, “but she wanted me to give you this!”
Saffron took and unfolded the scrap of paper. Though she was still a bit crestfallen, feeling genuinely bad that one of her two friends had departed without speaking to her, her eyes went alight. Rarity may have left abruptly, but the tersely scribbled message gave her some sliver of hope. Reading and rereading the words, an uneasy grin split her muzzle.
Saffron
Please come to my shop tomorrow afternoon. Your performance has inspired me, but I’m going to need your help.
Sincerely,
Rarity
“What’s it say?” Pinkie inquired.
“She said she wants me to come to her shop tomorrow evening,” Saffron whispered, knitting her brow and looking over to the pink party pony. “Is there something going on at her boutique?”
Pinkie shrugged. “Not sure, but I’d go if I was you! If Rarity wants you for something, I’m sure it’ll be pretty great - after all, she is the element of generosity!”
Shifting and giving Pinkie a hug, ignoring the disgruntled grunt from her father, Saffron smiled. “If you see her again, tell her I’ll be there.”
Once she bid Pinkie adieu, she bussed their table and put herself back to work. She hadn’t expected to put on a show, nor could she have anticipated being invited to Rarity’s boutique for some nebulous purpose, but she was happy all the same - well, mostly happy. Though she tried not to dwell on it, the thought of what she’d done, gyrating in front of her customers, was electrifying to a fault.
By the time her shift had ended, the sun having long since set, she was spent. Everything was as it should be, the restaurant cleaned, ingredients stored for the night, and dishes stacked for tomorrow - still, she was listless. She looked over, looked up the stairs, and pursed her lips.
Coriander had gone up to their flat nearly an hour ago, leaving her to wrap things up, which meant she had the entire downstairs to herself. With the windows shuddered, front door locked, and plenty of space to use, a devilish scheme crept into her mind. Since nopony was around to see her, it couldn’t hurt to do a bit of practice ~ right?
She crept the stairs as quietly as she could, slipped down the hallway, and carefully trotted into her room. Dancing in her bedchamber was doable, yet the relatively small area she had to work with left her little room to maneuver - as such, fetching her bedlah from the closet, she quickly and quietly returned to the first floor. Buck it - if her father caught her having a bit of fun, she could deal with him later.
Having donned her outfit and levitated several tables to the side, she lowered her head, closed her eyes, and slowly exhaled. A bow and a flourished turn began her routine, followed by her rearing on her hooves while placing her forehooves behind her head. The sensation of her muscles tensing, the balance of her ever-shifting weight, of the air moving around her, it felt amazing - nevertheless, something was missing. While some music would have made the routine more enjoyable, the idea of having an audience was both frustrating and inspirational.
Seconds passed into minutes, the sound of her heavy breaths crept to her ears, and her coat glistened in sweat as her muscles started to burn. Dancing wasn’t just an artform, nor was it an expressionistic escape - it was one heck of a workout. Falling still, her routine complete, she heaved air into her chest and wiped her brow.
It was a shame she hadn’t been able to put on a performance like that for Rarity, but it was probably for the best. She was just a bit rusty, the area she’d cleared would have made it impossible for any customers to sit comfortably, and she had a nagging sense that her friends had only been polite - feigning interest in what was at the end of the day a hobby. As she went to turn, to head upstairs for a shower and some well-deserved rest, she sighed.
The remainder of her night was completely lackluster, consisting of a shower before curling up for bed, and the following day was the same as many before. She got up, washed her face, got dressed, and wandered to the kitchen downstairs to begin work. Maintaining a restaurant was no easy task, not for the least of which reasons being they prepared everything in-house, so there was always something to do.
The hours practically sailed by, moving from one task to the next before their doors opened, until the afternoon was upon her. The work kept her busy, tending to customers and doing a bit of the cooking herself, but there was one thing that had occupied her thoughts for the entire day - finding out what Rarity had wanted to see her for. Considering she rarely asked her father if she could leave early, she made an exception.
To her pleasant surprise, Coriander didn’t give her a hard time for wanting to head out before they’d closed up for the night. He may have been a bit gruff at times, but he was an amazing father. Having thanked him profusely, she scampered out into the cool afternoon air and briskly trotted in the direction of Rarity’s boutique. The good news was that she didn’t have far to travel, only a few blocks - the bad news was she was none the wiser about why Rarity had summoned her.
Rounding a corner and spotting the little shop, seeing ponies practically swarming the place, she came to a dead stop. She’d presumed that her meeting with Rarity would be something private, but that didn’t seem to be the case. A queue of stallions and mares, nearly two dozen of them, stretched from the boutique’s entrance down the street. For a fleeting moment, she considered leaving, not wanting to stick out like a sore thumb, but she steeled her resolve and pressed onward.
She excused herself as she walked down the line, drawing annoyed looks from the ponies she passed, until she reached the front door and found herself facing a tall, svelte unicorn. “H…hello,” she began, waving up at the willowy mare, “Rarity asked me to come and see her…”
Smiling down at her, the unicorn extended a hoof. “You must be Saffron! You’ll find Rarity in the workshop in the back of the shop.”
“Thanks,” Saffron murmured, nodding and shimmying past a stallion nearly blocking the entrance.
Though she’d only been to the shop on a very small number of occasions, she instantly noticed that the interior had been changed dramatically. All the racks of clothes, display cabinets, and mannequins had vanished, likely whisked away into storage, but it’s what had taken their place that caught her eye. Splitting the chamber was a runway that led to a dais at the room’s center.
It was painfully obvious that the rearrangement had been done for some sort of exhibition, though whom and what was going to be shown off was a complete mystery. Given the number of ponies present, not even counting the ones bustling to get in, she was left to presume the event had been planned well before she’d been invited - which led her to a rather chilling conclusion. If Rarity had known and planned for a crowd, why had she been asked to come?
She pressed onward, in spite of the knot forming in her stomach, and found her way to the very back of the shop. It would have been rude of her not to make an appearance, so poking her head in and saying hello was the very least she could do. Knocking on a door marked Employees Only, she stepped back when she heard a furious series of hooffalls racing in her direction.
“What do you - Darling!” Rarity squealed, throwing the door open and hugging her. “You’re just in time! Come, we need to get you ready!”
Nearly pulled off balance, hauled into the umbral depths of the workshop, Saffron awkwardly smiled. “Just in time for what?”
“For you to get ready - behold!” Rarity reverently breathed, shuffling over and waving at something behind herself.
Saffron looked over and went still. Resting beneath a lamp was a mannequin adorned in the most beautiful bedlah she’d ever seen. Gossamer thin, nearly transparent, the crimson material was itself only one element of the appeal. The cloth was lined with traceries, small, ruby-studded chains hung from the hips and neck, and there was a circlet of bells around each hoof - furthermore, the embroidery and jewelry all appeared to have been hewn from gold. All told, the outfit must have cost a small fortune to produce - and that wasn’t taking into consideration the amount of time and effort that had gone into making such a masterpiece.
“Do…do you like it?” Rarity timidly asked.
Unable to look away from the bedlah, Saffron slowly nodded. “It’s beautiful…”
With a relieved sigh, Rarity laughed uncomfortably. “I’m so happy to hear you think so. After your little performance last night, I simply had to make it for you!”
Saffron balked, taken aback by the unwarranted claim. “You made this for me?”
“Of course, darling!” Rarity gleefully replied, carefully levitating the mannequin closer. “Now if you’ll be a dear and get yourself dressed, we can start the show and -”
“I…I beg your pardon?” Saffron croaked, her heart leaping into her throat.
Holding a hoof to her chest, Rarity froze. “I - uh - I may have neglected to mention that part…”
“What part?” Saffron pressed.
Averting her gaze, her face going beet red, Rarity innocently kicked at the floor. “The part where I asked you if you’d model it for me. You must forgive me, darling, but I haven’t been this inspired in ages. While I have no plans to put something this lavish into full-production, I thought that one of your little dances would be the perfect way to kick off the event this evening…”
While she was less than pleased with the utter lack of advanced notice, she would love to see how she looked in the masterfully-crafted garment. If what Rarity had said was true, the attire had been made specifically for her, inspired by her, so she’d be remiss for not trying it on at the very least. Tearing her eyes off the dummy, she looked over to the blushing couture.
“Is this a gift?” she asked, quirking a brow.
“If you’re willing to model it for me, of course, though I’d understand if you’re not interested. I followed my intuition as best I could, letting my creativity run free, even if it may not have the same charm as the outfit you wore yesterday,” Rarity groaned.
Finding herself at an impasse, Saffron turned her eyes to the floor. On one hoof, she felt honored and would be thrilled to don the opulent attire - on the other, if she wanted to do anything other than look at the ensemble, she’d have to put on a performance for a rather sizable crowd. Ultimately realizing that she’d been given a once in a lifetime opportunity, she came to a decision after a scant few seconds.
Slowly exhaling, she lifted her gaze to Rarity’s face. “I’ll do it.”
Rarity’s expression transitioned from one of apprehension to elation in the blink of an eye. “Wondrous, darling! I’ll go ensure all our guests are ready - in the meantime, feel free to give her a whirl,” she stated, waving a hoof at the dummy. “Would you like any music for when you’re on stage?”
“I’d love to, yes, but I’m not sure you’d be able to accommodate me,” Saffron grumbled.
“Try me,” Rarity countered. “The DJ I hired is quite worldly.”
While Saffron had her doubts, she gave her request. “Apsara Aali. If your DJ can play that song, it would be perfect.”
Trotting to the exit, Rarity shot her a wink. “I’ll make sure everything is ready for you. You should have about ten minutes before everything is ready. Once everything is set and the announcer calls for you, you can use that curtain to access the catwalk,” she noted, pointing over to a covered doorway.
With the seamstress gone, left by her lonesome, Saffron set her sights on the bedlah. She undressed in a flash, her excitement causing her to move almost recklessly, and started adorning herself with the various parts of the gorgeous outfit. The sash wound around her waist and up around one shoulder, but she discovered a slight problem.
Unlike the dress she had at home, the attire Rarity had created was substantially more revealing. The fabric only barely covered her hind quarters, leaving little to the imagination, and its material was almost ephemerally sheer. Attempting to convince herself that nopony would be bothered by the garment, downplaying her growing exhilaration, she hastily transferred every immaculate piece from the mannequin to herself.
Once everything was in place, having spotted a mirror resting to one side of the room, she pranced over to gaze at her reflection. In a word, the attire was breathtaking on her. The way the fabric clung to her hips and backside, accentuating her curves, made her other bedlah look downright pedestrian in comparison. Turning and inspecting herself, sensing a singular ache blossoming in her loins, she was torn from her self-indulgent stupor by the sound of Rarity’s voice.
She could tell her friend was speaking through a microphone and addressing her guests, which meant only one thing - it was almost showtime. Drifting over to the curtain, she took several deep, measured breaths to calm herself. Though the logical parts of her mind told her that doing a single dance would be easy, having done routines in her room many, many times, doing so for such a group of spectators did nothing to help her frazzled nerves.
“So without further ado, it’s my honor to present Ms. Saffron Masala modeling my newest creation!” Rarity blared through a microphone.
She thrust a forehoof through the curtain as the first beats of a song, the very song she’d requested, filled the air. A hush fell over the room, her heart skipped a beat, and she swallowed hard. This was it, there was no backing down now, it was showtime.
As she casually stepped out and onto the runway, a deafening silence filled her ears. Though she was tempted to look at the crowd, she stared down at the path before her. Everypony in attendance was there for a show, but this wasn’t about them - this was about her. She’d wondered what it would be like to perform, to finally have a chance to show off her hard-earned skills, and now it was her time to shine.
She didn’t slow until she reached the little stage, lowering her head and closing her eyes. She tapped a hoof throughout the opening chords of the song, acclimating to the beat, yet she didn’t stay still for long. Her hips rolled to her left, then right and back again, while she waved her shoulders from side to side.
Her every move setting the bells and chains about her to jingle, yet the music and chimes couldn’t drown out the sound of hushed whispers from the spectators. She couldn’t make out what was being said about her, but the reverential tones of awe fueled the fires of her motivation. She spun in place, emboldened, and threw her head back. If the attendees were enjoying the opening act, she couldn’t wait for their reaction when she really got moving.
Reaching out, she waved with her right foreleg, then her left, while her tush began to sway in tune with the beat. What started as whispers and quiet remarks steadily grew into a soft din, stallions and mares alike complimenting and praising her, causing her passion to soar. As she opened her eyes, seeing the astounded faces all around her, she beamed.
This - this was what she’d yearned for. Stepping forward and kicking off with her forehooves, rocking onto her hind legs, she gyrated like a serpent. Several ponies openly cheered, others went slack-jawed, and yet there wasn’t a soul in the room who didn’t stare at her with open awe. She may have been a simple mare, a cook with no grand aspirations, yet she was a brilliant star in that moment.
Each motion was more brazen than the last, heated and in perfect sync with the song, while her heavily-lidded eyes took note of something remarkable. Many of the ponies stared up at her with wonder and lust, yet that wasn’t the only thing she realized. Scanning the throng, feeling her marehood seize upon itself, she saw several of the stallions were getting a bit too excited from her performance.
Ponies weren’t just gazing upon her in amazement - no, they were aroused by the sight of her; the revelation was intoxicating, crushing what few reservations she had left about performing. Spinning on her hooves, turning her back to the audience, she reached back and tugged at the fabric about her waist. The ponies may not have come expressly to see her, but she was going to steal the show.
Pulling at the cloth securing her bedlah in place, she allowed the garment to go slack. She had no doubt that the throng could see her marehood, possibly even noticing the trail of nectar creeping down her thigh, but she couldn’t have cared less. She’d been called to entertain, to display a ravishing garment which had been made with care, so she did just that.
Undressing while she danced, her passion was made manifest. The dress gradually unfurled and fell around her tapping hooves, the beads, bells, and chains clattered to the floor, and her bare body was revealed for all to see. With only her grinning muzzle covered by a veil, her marehood winking and exposing her succulent depths for the roaring crowd, she leaned forward, spread her hind legs, and drew a forehoof down her chest, past her belly, and to her aching nethers.
It wasn’t until she graced her clit, gnawing her lip and quietly groaning, did comprehension dawn on her. The bolt of pleasure was a blessing and a curse, bringing some clarity of mind. She peered over her shoulder, listened to the roar of the crowd, and scrambled away. Dancing - goodness, even stripping was one thing, but she had to draw a line somewhere.
Running as fast and as hard as she could, abandoning her outfit and the throng in her wake, she dashed through the curtain, into the workshop, and toward a bathroom she’d spotted earlier. She could hardly believe what she’d nearly done, having almost openly masturbated on the stage, yet wasn’t upset, angry, or even ashamed - she was more turned on than she’d ever been in her life.
No sooner did she kick the door closed behind herself than she desperately got off. Rolling to her back, she looked down her chest at her crotch and feverishly rubbed herself. The thought of the spectators consumed her, their lecherous looks giving her more than enough encouragement to see her skyrocketing toward release. As she panted and openly moaned, using her magic to twist and tease her sensitive teats, the breath hitched in her throat.
On and on she went, using her hooves and sorcery to pleasure herself, until a quiet click shook her from her amorous thoughts. She peeked up with a single eye, noticed Rarity looking in at her, and was wracked with a cataclysmic orgasm. She’d cum more times than she could count, being a healthy young mare, yet the climax which struck her was singular in power.
Nectar gushed from her quivering depths, spraying the door and seeping into the cleft of her rump, while her rapturous cry split the heavens. The pleasure was blinding, bordering on the divine and giving her a taste of nirvana itself. Her ecstasy peaked, all but causing her to black out, until she rode out the utter onslaught of bliss and was brought back to the present.
It was like flipping a switch - the pleasure she was drowning in was gone in a flash, replaced by a euphoric clearheadedness. Gazing up at the cracked doorway, seeing Rarity watching her intently, she bashfully smiled and covered her groin. Though there was no going back, unable to control what she’d already done, she could at least show some modicum of modesty.
“I’ll…” Rarity falteringly began, perspiring and backing away. “I’ll - Ahem - I’ll go fetch your dress.”
“Thanks,” Saffron cooed.
The seamstress paused and looked back, her eyes lingering momentarily on her guest’s crotch. “If - oh bother - if this sort of thing interests you, I may know of a place that could indulge your curiosity.”
Saffron rolled over and pushed herself up, her legs wobbling and threatening to buckle, as Rarity disappeared and ran off. Manehattan was a large city, the biggest she’d ever been to, and it wouldn’t surprise her if there were certain businesses which catered to specific vices. She wouldn’t have thought that she’d ever consider embracing her deeply-buried urges, of caving to a part of her that, until that day, had never been realized, yet she could think of nothing else. If putting on a tame show had been stimulating enough to drive her into a rut-lust, how stirring would putting on an overtly sexual act be…