Chapters It was late Friday afternoon in the city of Canterlot. The ponies young and old were yet to make their way to various social gatherings and crowd the streets in the process. The rays of the autumn sun nearing to the horizon but not quite setting yet illuminated colorful leaves of tree alleys and parks among the alabaster houses with their facades now turned into shining gold.
Alas, with all the beauty of the city leisurely gliding in, its golden afternoon couldn’t break through the thick layer of worries and depressed thoughts that clouded the mind of a lone unicorn walking the empty street.
Actually, many would desire to see his tempo exhibited by the Reaper on their dying day. The stallion would usually undertake this journey in the greatest haste possible; anypony hurries when they go visit their friends after all. But when the heart is heavy, small pleasures we normally crave lose their luster.
His route lead him to a two-storey house with a average-sized garden. The mansions of Canterlotian nobleponies were rather far away, both in the distance and the level of luxury, but despite that the neighbourhood could be called anything but poor.
Similar description would easily pass for the stallion, who now practically dragged his hooves on the ground. His meticulously kept aquamarine mane and tail sported a dim sheen, and not a single speck of dirt could be found on his emerald green coat. From his light pudge one could easily deduce a sedentary character of the unicorn’s job. This conclusion was only reinforced by stallion’s cutie mark because his flanks bore pictures of a parchment and a stack of bits.
The amount of sunlight had noticeably decreased before he finally arrived at the door of the house, and after short contemplation he sighed and reluctantly knocked on the polished mahogany. The door swung open almost sooner than he managed to put his hoof back on the ground. His prolonged journey apparently roused impatience and restlessness in his friends. A tall beige pegasus with an orange mane and a goatee stood at the threshold smiling brightly.
“Profitable, dear, you finally arrived! I was just about to leave and look for you. We were afraid something bad had happened,” he said, his words filled with sincere joy at seeing somepony, a phenomenon rarely seen in Canterlot. Then his eyes took in the looks of the embodiment of misery standing in front of him, and his smile turned into a concerned frown.
“Something bad did happened, didn’t it?”
“Yes, Southern Breeze. I’m sorry I am so late, but… Could I get something stronger to drink first?” Profitable asked tiredly in low voice.
“Of course! Where are my manners, come in.” Southern Breeze motioned the other stallion to the library and left towards the kitchen to collect required beverage.
Profitable’s pace didn’t quicken at all. In fact, the prospect of questions his friends would pile on him after seeing him in his current state weighted his legs even more.
Maybe they aren’t here yet. Maybe they won’t show up today, he silently hoped. But upon entering the library his hopes turned to ash. Both remaining ponies who were supposed to attend this weekly meeting centered around poker, drinking and idle chat were already present, sitting around a round table in the centre of the room, drinks and gaming chips ready.
“Good afternoon, Profitable, why so glum today?” a violet unicorn with a white mane asked immediately.
“Yeah, what’s up, Quickie?” a red earth pony added, grinning from ear to ear.
At the mention of the nickname derived from his original name Profitable Deal visibly winced. The motion was mimicked by the earth pony only moments ago, when he found himself under the hard glare of Southern Breeze.
After he almost bore a hole into the joker, Breeze turned his now softened gaze to Profitable.
“Here is your whiskey. I poured you a double one.”
Profitable grabbed the glass with magic, nodded his head thanks and took a seat at the table.
“You know what, Tomato Growth? You are right. Quickey,” he smiled bitterly at the earth pony. “That’s the whole problem. If I just weren’t Quickey, this mess would probably not happen,” he sighed and downed his glass in one gulp. “Would you get me another, Breeze?” he motioned his glass to the pegasus who took it immediately and left the room.
“So, they are sending you on another business trip?” the violet unicorn asked.
“Yes, Lavender. And that means that hussy will have another two days of romping with some bastard! If I just knew who he is, a squad of Royal Guard wouldn’t be enough to protect him!” Profitable slammed his hoof into table for emphasis and accepted the refilled glass. In an attempt to spare himself more trips to the kitchen Breeze brought the whole bottle into the library. It now stood proudly in front of Profitable whose face brightened up at the sight a little.
“I still don’t see why you don’t tell her you are leaving for another trip and then hide somewhere to find out,” Tomato chimed. The others nodded their agreement, albeit reluctantly since the idea came from somepony else than them.
“You think I didn’t have that idea too? It just wouldn’t work. She knows my boss’s secretary. They attended high school together or something. And like all mares, they are best friends forever,” he paused to take another swig, “which means they tell each other everything. She know perfectly well, when I have to go for a business trip. Even earlier than I do,” he concluded and hung his head low.
This wasn’t the first time this group of friends held a discussion on that particular theme. Everything started few months ago after Profitable Deal’s employer entrusted him with leading various negotiations in other cities for the company. After returning home, Profitable started to notice little traces of unwanted presence in the household. Pillows smelled of an unfamiliar cologne, two wine glasses were left in the sink, and there were many other hints, but Profitable couldn’t find any indisputable evidence. Trying to get a confession directly from his wife would be completely ridiculous too. All he could do was grind his teeth.
“That’s not everything, is it, Profitable?” inquired Lavender. “Every time you had announced another trip to us, your sour mood would have passed already. But a changeling would commit suicide, if he tried to feed on you today.”
Profitable just shook his head. “The trips become more and more frequent. Don’t take me wrong, it doesn’t matter how many time she cheats on me. I hate her at this point anyway. But this way she gets what she wants. I just feel so powerless…”
“Then get divorced finally!” Tomato demanded.
“Without a proof of her adultery? Have you lost the rest of your wit? She would sue me for everything I have, and she would win!” exclaimed Profitable.
“Well, then we have to obtain you that necessary evidence,” Breeze stepped into the conversation for the first time.
“Hear the words of wisdom,” Profitable exclaimed sarcastically and chuckled, but the sound lacked any joy. “And how would you do that, oh blessed preacher? Enlighten us!”
“I might know about a way, but If you want to act like this, I can keep it to myself just as well,” Breeze huffed and mock-pouted. He was cross from being accused of stating the obvious and unhelpful truth, but such petty reason couldn’t deter him from helping a friend.
However, the exaggerated display of annoyance was taken absolutely seriously. Profitable cooled down immediately and adopted an apologetic face.
“I’m sorry, Breeze. I shouldn’t have vented my frustration on you like that.”
“It’s alright, I know this whole thing is hard for you. It’s me who should apologize,” answered Breeze and smiled on Profitable reassuringly.
“No, the fault is entirely mine. You are trying to help me, and I just bash on you all the time!” retaliated Profitable.
At this point Tomato couldn’t hold back any longer. His impatient nature more typical for a pegasus than an earth pony prevailed, and he stepped in.
“Hey, you two lovebirds, either get a room, or cut to the point. We have still poker to play, you know?” he demanded, while tapping his hoof in agitation.
“Oh, right,” snapped Breeze from formulating another counter apology. “Yes, well, I have a friend who has a friend who can make a product suitable for this situation. You would at last find out who the culprit is. The only problem is that the product is illegal.
“Not that I care about that too much, but why is it forbidden by law? And what kind of product are we talking about?” asked Profitable, now sitting straighter in his chair, his curiosity and hopes piqued.
“The kind you keep away from foals unless you are ready for explaining bees and butterflies to them,” Breeze smiled impishly. “As for the legal issues, well, the main ingredient is poison joke oil. And you know that since poison joke counters special talents, if they catch you with it, they will immediately assume you want to prevent Celestia from rising sun or something,” he continued his explanation waving his hoof in the air dismissively.
The looks of comprehension spread across the faces of his listeners, complemented by Profitable’s first genuine smile of that evening.
“That sounds wonderful! Could you get me that product?” asked Profitable eagerly.
“Of course, but it will take some time. When are you leaving?”
“On Monday morning.” stated Profitable.
“I won’t manage to get it that fast. But I will have it for you next Friday when you show up, and you will use it for the next trip you make. How does it sound?” asked Breeze with a wink.
“Great! She is so going tl get it! I can’t wait! Let’s toast to this. To revenge and justice and poison joke!” exclaimed Profitable.
When they emptied their glasses, Lavender asked with a smile, “So who shuffles first, and how high are the blinds?”
The group of friends returned to their scheduled program then. With a solution in sight, Profitable finally climbed from his pit of sorrow and enjoyed the evening thoroughly. When he started his journey home, his appearance didn’t even resemble the broken unicorn from before. He was full of anticipation and almost looked forward to his upcoming trip.
Profitable sat at the table in the kitchen of his apartment. Sometimes he wished he had a house, but despite the pay raise he received recently, the outrageous prices of realty in Canterlot prevented him from fulfilling that dream. That said, most of his co-workers would kill for this apartment anyway; four rooms and a kitchen with windows into the park in the downtown area were considered justified reasons for jealousy.
Magical chandelier decorated with pictures of flowers shone down on unicorn’s figure trembling in nervous anticipation. The midnight was quickly approaching, so Profitable wasn’t afraid that somepony would interrupt him. His wife rarely waited for him to go to bed these days, their lovelife could be likened to a lightning in the clear sky - it happened from time to time, but nopony could predict when it would happen next time.
In front of him lay an unassuming package wrapped in brown paper. It was given to Profitable few hours prior by Breeze, and it distracted him to such an extent that he lost all the games they played on that day’s meeting.
His nervousness was also heightened because the package was delivered at the last possible moment. Another trip had been scheduled for the next day. It was supposed to be a business lunch with the CEO of a partner company, followed by a banquet meant to strengthen current connections and build new ones. Profitable would be returning on Sunday morning. Perfect time for seeing the results of the product.
But before any of that, necessary preparations had to be made. Profitable held his breath, reached for the package and ripped the paper off. To his shock, a brown cardboard box appeared. “I could have seen this coming. Don’t know what I expected. Colorful logo and some crazy name and an advertising statement? They are operating illegally after all,” he muttered for himself and opened the box.
On the top lay a flyer with a logo depicting bright blue flower and a gold drop of oil. Directly under the picture the advertisement said:
LUBRICATING GEL TRUTH IS SMOOTH
Is your marriage on the ropes?
Lubricating gel Truth Is Smooth contains high quality poison joke oil extracted with utmost care for a maximal preservation of the active substance.
Profitable’s jaw hang loose in his state of surprise. Strangely enough, of all the thoughts appropriate for this situation the most banal one crossed his mind: Breeze didn’t let me choose the flavor!
Once he recovered from his stupor, Profitable removed the rest of the items from the box - a white tube without any inscription and four ampules marked “Antidote.” He shook his head at the number implicating rather wild activities of adulterous ponies, and then he shook it once more at the idea of antidotes in general.
The Tartarus will freeze before I need these anyway. Whatever happens to them, they will be that way till the end of their days! he thought, a smirk playing on his lips.
Tiptoeing and generally making sure not to make any noise Profitable made his way to the bedroom. The sounds of his wife’s dainty snores filled the air. He opened his nightstand and replaced the tube present in it with the new one. From his experience, whoever was this secret lover of his wife had no decency whatsoever and didn’t hesitate to use Profitable’s personal items.
With the trap set, he left the bedroom again and proceeded to destroy any and all remaining evidence.
I’ll keep the ampules in my saddlebags, so she doesn’t find them. The rest of the things must burn, he recapitulated for himself. He took out a huge pot, tore the paper to pieces, threw the pieces in and set them on fire. Pity I can’t keep that flyer. I would have it framed and hang it above my bed. Maybe Breeze can get me another one later, he contemplated.
The paper turned to ash soon enough. Profitable added some water into the pot and poured the grey mash into the toilette. With everything taken care of he entered the bedroom once more and snuggled into his duvet. He had a ticket for the early morning train and needed to be fresh for his planned program after all.
A unicorn mare with a yellow coat and an extravagantly styled, obsidian black and snow white streaked mane waved after the departing train. It was carrying her husband, Profitable Deal, away and all the restrictions of everyday with him. The morning sun chose this moment to break the low autumn mist and warmed the waking city with its lifegiving light. Comb Finesse took it as a good sign and smiled serenely at the prospect of the upcoming day.
Although she wouldn’t tell him this in the eyes, she hated her husband and the lifestyle he prefered. He was bland, boring, and truly full of himself.
When Comb had announced him this morning she would accompany him to the railway station, she didn’t omit to remind him that only few mares were so devoted to their husbands to get up so early on their behalf. He only grumbled something incomprehensible in response, but today she didn’t mind the absence of a proper answer. After all, her statement was as fake as her affection toward him.
The true reason why Comb followed Profitable today actually was to make sure he boarded the train and didn’t sneak back into the city somehow. That and to meet with her lover, for whom she now frantically searched with her eyes in the small crowd on the platform.
Suddenly somepony placed their hooves over her eyes from behind. She took a sharp breath and prepared to protect herself, but then a quiet seductive voice purred into her right ear:
“My, you look extra charming today, dearest Finesse of Creation.”
The smile returned to her face. She turned around elegantly and hugged the bronze-colored earth pony with a blonde and silver mane standing behind her.
”You scared me, Stormy Voice,” she reproached, but nuzzled his neck right afterward. “But I can never stay angry at you, dear.”
The pony in question smiled, although Comb couldn’t see it from her position and returned the nuzzle.
“Good for me, otherwise you would have probably killed me at this point for messing with your mane constantly,” he joked and ran a hoof through her intricately woven curls to prove his point.
She giggled and swatted his hoof aside. “Hey! There will be enough time for that later. Besides, we are in public:”
“It wasn’t me who initiated this hug, you know,” he reminded her playful and extricated himself from her embrace. “So, are you sure he left?”
“Yes, he waved at me from the window when the train was departing,” Comb assured her companion and set off in the direction of city centre. As they walked, she took in the full view of the earth pony accompanying her. Although Stormy was a few years older than her husband, looking at his body was a treat to look at. Unlike Profitable, Stormy took good care of his physical health, and the pleasant musculature spoke volumes about that.
“I couldn’t believe my ears when I heard you managed to schedule another trip for him so soon after the last one. I had to make an excuse for why I was so gleeful after that call from Sharp Pen.”
“I’m just glad he is decent at what I make him do. Hurting the company would be a bitter pill to swallow for me,” he remarked. Comb didn’t outright complain about what was said, but the small flinch in her face didn’t pass unnoticed by Stormy. He quickly saved the situation: “But I would do that, if need be. You are more important than some stupid company.”
This thankfully quenched the fire before it spreaded, and Calm smiled at him once again. He decided to insure it further.
“And Pen can be a bit overeager sometimes. I asked her to inform you, but I thought she would do so in person, not by calling you. Sorry about that,” Stormy said, eyes turned to the ground, but watching Comb from the corner of his eye.
“No damage done so it doesn’t matter, dear,” Comb chirped happily, nothing hinting that a possibly dangerous emotional moment transpired. “What do you have in mind for today?” she asked as she stopped in front of a particularly beautiful rose bush and admired one of its blooms.
“Well,” started Stormy and he slowly approached her, bit one of the rosebud off the branch and slipped it into her mane gently, “I was thinking about getting a breakfast in some café in the centre and then visiting one of the galeries. They brought some pieces from Manehattan and Fillydelphia, and from what I heard Princess Celestia provided part of her private collection. After a good lunch we could go for a long walk in the Royal gardens. There is a hidden pond I would like to show you. The Canterlotian City Opera plays The Marriage of Fillygaro today, and I got us tickets into the box. And then we could go some place more private...” he smiled seductively and caressed the rosebud with the pad of his hoof. It open immediately into a beautiful red rose due to the earth pony magic he used. “What do you say?”
She blushed at his suggestion, but nodded fervently and pecked him on the cheek. “Yes! All the way yes. This day is going to be so great!”
With that they resumed their walk, their sides now touching. The sunny morning brought the city into a good mood, the passing ponies smiled kindly the pair. The two barely noticed the others, but the smiles on their own faces never faded nonetheless. It didn’t take long and they sat down at the table in front of one of the many cafés this part of Canterlot was known for. The waiter came almost immediately.
“Good morning, miss, sir, what can I offer to you?”
Comb took the initiative: “Good morning, two lattés please and-” she put a hoof under her chin, “I can’t decide between a muffin and a donut.”
“Why don’t you take both?” Stormy tempted and grinned at Comb’s mock-hurt expression.
“Are you suggesting that I can’t resist my sweet tooth? You should know better than that. I can control myself, it took me half a day to eat that box of chocolate you bought me last time!” she stated winked at him
“With so much control, of course you wouldn’t eat two pastries for breakfast,’ he laughed, flattered by the hidden ‘thank you’ hidden in her speech. “I have an idea. You take a muffin and I will share my donut with you,” he offered then.
“Sounds good.”
“Should I cut them for you?” the waiter inquired.
Stormy smiled at him, said “No, I think we will use other means to portion them,” and got a smile of understanding in return.
“As you wish. I will bring your order in a minute.”
They sat in silence for a while, watching the multicolored leaves carried by a weak wind and the ponies enjoying their day off, before Stormy spoke again.
“I’m slightly surprised that you agreed with my whole plan for today. We can change anything in it, if it makes the day more enjoyable for you.”
“I know, but I just like doing things with you.” She extended a hoof across the table and laid it on his foreleg. “You plan how to make me smile, take me to nice places, care what I think...” as she trailed off, the tears appeared in her eyes. “It’s exactly the opposite of what he does. For him, I’m just an eye candy. Some trophy he won. I can’t even remember when he last time took me to the restaurant. And he should have definitely kept the name Quick Deal. Why didn’t I realize it signals other than trading abilities too?!”
“Then get divorced. I will marry you on the spot,” offered Stormy with concerned sincerity. He trotted to her side of the table and pulled her into his embrace.
“I can’t,” she sighed quietly. “He would sue the last bit from me and then spread among the high society that we have been dating even before the divorce. You know how the gossip lives in Canterlot. In two days they would call me a whore,.and your company would lose its name.” He had to admit that she was right. One-sided divorce would draw enormous negative attention. So instead of saying anything he only tightened his hold.
The waiter discretely deposited their order on the table and nodded at Stormy before retreating. After few more minutes Comb calmed down completely and relished in the closeness of the pony holding her. Then she spoke once more, trying to brighten the mood.
“It is so much more romantic like this anyway, don’t you think? And the danger of getting caught is so…” devilish smile spread on her face as she put her muzzle next to Stormy’s ear and finished in a whisper: “arousing!”
He swallowed hard, few droplets of sweat glistening on his forehead. He had to stop this fast before the mental image Comb suggested made something else to appear in this less than ideal moment. Quoting her seemed suitable option:
“Hey! There will be enough time for that later,” he emulated her tone as best he could. “Let’s take care of our breakfast, shall we?”
“You are such a buzzkill sometimes!” she laughed and followed his advice to dig in.
That was close. But at least she isn’t sad anymore, he thought before following her example.
(Sensual part following. If you don't wish to read clop, skip to the next chapter.)
.
The day progressed accordingly to their wishes. Stormy Voice made sure the thoughts of her everyday life wouldn’t even cross Comb’s mind. Even the weather looked like it was trying to cheer the pair up by clear skies and a colorful sunset. On their way from the opera house to Comb’s home they made a small detour to obtain a bottle of wine, which later on very well complemented the salad Comb made for dinner.
As they finished eating, Comb got up, scooped the dishes and started cleaning them. Almost immediately Stormy got up as well and hugged her from behind.
Comb gasped and giggled lightly. “I have to clean this up first, I won’t be able to will myself into it later. He would deduce somepony was here, if the dishes stayed in the sink,” she reprimanded her companion.
He nibbled her ear in response drawing a small moan from her and said: “What about I take care of the cleaning, and you go rest for a short while? I will be there in a minute.”
“Thank you, dear. I will do that.” She wiggled out of his embrace and walked slowly to the door, swaying her hips and swishing her tail slightly the whole time, giving him glimpses of pink flesh in the process. Just before she left the kitchen she turned her head back to Stormy.
“Don’t make me wait too long.” she said sultrily and winked at him. Then she was gone.
He was alone in the kitchen and stared at the door for a few seconds. Then his mind caught up with the situation, and he sprung into action. Speed-cleaning recordpony has nothing on me! he cheered for himself. In five minutes he was done and happily made his way to the bedroom.
He stopped at the threshold, enthralled in the sight in front of him. Two lamps on the bedside tables provided warm yellow unobtrusive light revealing Comb lying on her left side, one of her forelegs supporting her head, the other running circles on the bedsheets. Her hooves were clad in green and brown striped socks. She was smiling a toothy smile, her cheeks tinged with small blush, and her eyes sparked with merriment.
“Do you like what you see? Because he clearly does,” she asked and pointed between Stormy’s hindlegs. Only now did he realize that his pride left its sheath and stood in attention. Embarrassment was, however, very far from Stormy’s mind. He tilted his head to the side and let his eyes drift down her lithe form presented to him in its entire beauty. She squirmed a little under his gaze and her blush deepened.
“Yes, I surely share that opinion, my little Finesse of Creation,” he said and climbed on the bed. As he lowered himself to peck her lightly on the lips, she wrapped her foreleg around him and pulled him down and into a deep kiss. He reciprocated the gesture, one hoof playing with strands of her mane and the other caressing her back.
His tongue prodded on her lips, and she parted them without hesitation. Their tongues wrapped around each other and danced in mutual enjoyment. He slowly moved his hoof down her back and hip to her comb and mirror cutie mark and started massaging it gently. This elicited a low moan from Comb and her hooves tightened the grip.
After few minutes their mouths separated and they smiled lovingly at each other. He took one of her forelegs and placed the sock-wearing appendage on his own face basking in the softness of the fabric.
“I can never resist these. You look so cute in them.”
“So without them I am not cute?” Comb mock-pouted and tapped his muzzle lightly.
“Of… of course you are,” Stormy stammered, scared that he offended her, “you are the most beautiful and cute creature I know! It’s just they are so fluffy and accentuate your eyes and-” he noticed the glint in her eyes and barely suppressed laughter and scowled, “and you are just messing with me again, aren’t you?”
“You are too cute while panicking to pass the chance,” she said and booped his nose.
Stormy decided that his lips and tongue needed different kind of exercise now than waging a battle of words about him being cute. He pulled away from Comb and kissed her on the neck just under jawline. The sudden move took her by surprise, but soon she craned her neck to provide him easier access. He peppered the new territory with kisses and nibbles and continued down her chest and tummy, urged by the stream of moans and giggles coming from her. He resumed the cutie mark massage and happily listened to how the sounds gained on volume..
He stopped his descend at two small mounds and took the left one into his mouth, moving his free hoove to the right one to fondle it lightly. He ran his tongue around the now-erect nipple and squeezed it with his teeth gently, then switched teats and repeated the process.
Comb basked in the attention he was giving her, but the tingling in her nether parts was becoming unbearable. She placed her hooves on top of his head and pushed him down.
“Stormy, please, stop teasing,” she pleaded.
Stormy lifted his head a bit to look into her eyes and smiled at the wail he earned for ceasing his actions and not moving to the price immediately. The puppy-dogs eyes he then overpower him, and he lowered his muzzle to where she wanted him to and gently nuzzled the coat just above her marehood. Another whine and more forceful push finally convinced him to oblige completely, and he draw a long lick down her now moistened lips.
After few more licks he decided that he tortured his lover long enough. He parted the outer lips with his hooves and plunged his tongue as deep into the wet and warm tunel as he could.
“Yes!” screamed Comb and thrusted her hips forward. “More! Please!”
Stormy was more than happy to fulfill her wish. He circled with his tongue and lapped on now abundant juices. He kept altering the pace and actions, moving quickly in and out one moment and probing the depths of Comb’s marehood as far as he could reach with his flexible appendage the next one.
Thrilled sounds and quickened breathing revealed to him that Comb’s orgasm was nigh. To bring her over the edge he moved one of his hooves and felt for a small nub just above her entrance with it. Upon locating it he pressed and circled it firmly, and the effect came immediately. Comb’s body stiffened, her breath became ragged, and her hooves pressed Stormy’s head deep into her soft folds. Unarticulated screams of pleasure and shouts of Stormy’s name filled the room.
He continued his ministrations until she rode her orgasm to the end and then pulled himself next to her, placing his foreleg across her chest. Minutes ticked by and her breath returned to its normal quiet rhythm.
“Thank you, dear. I needed that so much,” Comb cooed and smuggled into Stormy’s chest, wide content smile shining on her face.
He stroked her mane and kissed the top of her head before he answered “I’m glad you are enjoying yourself.”
“But you should have fun too!” Comb exclaimed and sat up. “Let me take care of this for you,” she purred and stroked Stormy’s erect member with her hoof. At the touch a small twitch ran from its base to the top, pleading for more, but Stormy had other plans.
He pulled her back into lying position. “Ah ah ah. Today is about you and I will ensure this day will be one to remember for you. And don’t worry, I am enjoying myself too. I don't think there is nicer way to spend time in Equestria than being with you.” Planting another kiss into her mane, Stormy got up and walked to the nightstand.
“Please, lay on your stomach, dear,” Stormy ordered as he pulled a white tube from the nightstand and applied some of the gel onto his member. Nothing was allowed to ruin the night for Comb, so more smoothness couldn’t hurt.
She did exactly as she was told and anticipating what was about to come she moved her silky tail out of the way. Stormy climbed back on the bed and smirked.
“My, somepony is quite eager tonight, don’t you think so too, dear?” he teased.
“Somepony made his intentions rather clear. But I have no problem playing an oblivious filly, if you want,” she answered barely containing her giggles.
“No pretending today. You aren’t oblivious in the slightest, and I want to be here with you, not just some filly, anyway,” Stormy assured softly as he positioned himself behind Comb.Although maybe we will try that someday, he pondered.
He placed his forehooves on both sides of Comb’s shoulders, so he wouldn’t press her too badly and aimed the tip of his slick shaft at her entrance. He bent forward and nibbled her neck a bit while teasing her. Then he pushed slowly forward. His member parted the lips easily and plunged inch by inch into Comb’s marehood.
He couldn’t but smile at the cute noises Comb made as he hilted himself and started to withdraw. Repeat after repeat he altered the speed and angle of each few thrusts. He retracted his hooves and instead of on the bedsheet he placed them on Comb’s cutie marks.
The pressure started to build inside him while her squeals were turning into ture moans of ecstasy. He knew he couldn’t allow himself to finish yet, but at the same time realized he wouldn’t last too much longer. That’s why he changed tactics and gyrated his shaft every time it vanished from sight in Comb’s inviting warmth.
It didn’t take long and her moans became loud shouts, and her inner walls clenched around Stormy’s shaft. Despite how wet she now was it proved to be almost impossible for Stormy to move in either direction, but the exercise only urged him to try harder. Before the waves of Comb’s orgasm subsided, Stormy’s arrived, and he almost collapsed on top of her from the intense pleasure raging in him.
As they descended together from the orgasmic heights, Stormy pulled his now softening member out of Comb. She turned on her back and extended her hooves inviting him into another hug. Once she held him firmly in her hooves, Comb whispered into his ear:
“You kept your word. I will remember this day for a long time. Thank you.”
“No, I should thank you for allowing me to be with such a perfect mare.” Then his face dropped. “I just wish we had more time.”
“Do you really have to leave?” Comb asked, picking on his meaning, with sadness matching his. He never stayed the entire night. Not because he wouldn’t want to, but because Profitable’s behavior couldn’t be predicted. He was capable of marching in with the break of the dawn.
“I am afraid so, dear. We don’t know which train he will take. And if he found us…” He didn’t have to finish, they both knew what would come.
“At least wait till I fall asleep.” she pleaded, making adorable puppy eyes. “Pweeease?”
He contemplated resisting, but relented in a matter of seconds. It was his desire too, after all.
“All right. I think I can do that,” he smiled at her. “Goodnight, my little Finesse of Creation.”
“Goodnight, dear, have nice dreams. And enjoy your Sunday,” she managed to say with a cute yawn.
The roar of Manehattan Express’s steam engine carried wide across the country, its nearest obstacle being Canterlot Mountain with the thousand-spired city, the destination of all the passengers still seated in the coaches. The scenery of the heavy-rain-drenched autumn Equestria darting past the windows threatened to inflict severe melancholia into the minds of the travellers, despite the amount of gold, yellow and red hues it offered.
But neither the sounds, nor the sights were of any importance to Profitable Deal at that time. He didn’t even notice the stewardess with cart of refreshments passing by, so deep in his thoughts he dwelled.
The CEO, an insufferable businesspony Profitable had to dine and deal with, had scheduled a tour of his company’s factory and another presentation for that morning and Profitable had to attend, otherwise he would offend the important business partner . Needless to say, he enjoyed it about as much as the Manehattanian employees forced to work on Sunday did. During this ordeal he tried his hardest to keep his mind away from the events that had probably transpired at his home during the previous evening and he did rather good job at that, but his will wasn’t strong enough to continue doing so throughout the several hours long journey to Canterlot
I can’t wait to see the results! Comb will finally get what she deserves and that bastard will fare no better! he mused excitedly. And the look on her face will be the cherry on top! Then with a start he realized just what he was looking forward to with such glee. His suspicions would turn into facts, the status quo would shatter like a glass thrown against a wall. He was looking forward to get a proof of his disgrace, the proof that his wife found him worthless.
His mood turned sour from his epiphany, and only the vision of vengeance kept him from regretting the actions that brought him into this position. The two views of his situation bothered him constantly as he disembarked in Canterlot station and slowly made way to his house, his family life’s cradle once, now turned into its coffin.
The rain thankfully stopped, but the low hanging rainclouds caused that when he arrived at the front door of the apartment building, it was almost midnight-style dark. He took a quick look up at the windows of his flat and was surprised there was no light on. Maybe she ran away. Or maybe she didn’t do anything wrong and just went out with her friends, he pondered. Please Celestia, be it the latter! he hoped for a moment before his pride took over control and he opened the entrance door and ascended two flights of stairs leading to his apartment.
He tried the doorknob and found it was locked. He opted to use his keys instead of knocking or ringing, the possibility of Comb absent or asleep being only part of the reason. As of lately, they always open the door for themselves, diminishing the contact with the other one to the unavoidable occasions.
The moment he entered the dark hallway, he caught the sound of quiet sobbing. It ceased the moment he rather loudly closed the door, but rustling of bedsheets resounded instead which assured him that he didn’t imagine the sobs. The sounds were coming from the bedroom, the door leading there slightly ajar.
Without hesitation, but without hurry as well, he made his way there. When he stepped into the room, he didn’t see a thing, so he reached for a switch and being sure that Comb wasn’t asleep turned the magic chandelier on.
A small hill covered in duvet lay on the bed. Few seconds after the light flooded the room, the hill started moving and Comb’s head emerged out of it. The fur on her cheeks was matted and the white of her eyes reddened from long crying. White towel was wrapped around Comb’s head so tightly that not a single strand of her mane was visible.
“Good evening… darling. Y-you are here,” she stammered and rubbed her eyes.
“That I am, Comb. How have you been these two days? And why are you in bed so early?” Profitable asked and sat down on the bed leaving only small distance between him and Comb. The greeting he received counted to the strangest ones he had ever heard, and the only possible explanation he could think of was that the hope in Comb’s innocence died.
“I-I’ve got a flu. Yes. I went for a walk yesterday and caught a horrible flu, so I wanted to get some sleep. But you woke me up by turning on the light!” she accused.
“Yesterday? When the weather was so lovely sunny?” he questioned raising eyebrow.
“I fell into a pond!” she blurted out and winced. Even to her that excuse sounded eternally stupid.
How far will she go with this lying? She is terrible at it! But let’s have some fun, she can squirm a bit more, Profitable decided and played along.
“Poor little dear! I’m so sorry, I heard some noises when I came home, so I thought you were up!” he said in an overly concerned voice and pointed a hoof at the towel, “But tell me, you haven’t done your mane while having a flu, did you?”
Comb started shaking. “N-no! Of course not! That would be silly. Heh. I got a headache. From the flu. So I made myself a cold compress,” Comb stuttered and moved her left foreleg to her nape.
“But it looks dry now. Pass it to me, I will take care of that for you.” He extended a hoof to her and smiled. She leaned back a little.
“No need to worry about that! The pain is gone now!” she almost shouted.
“I’m glad to hear you are better, but it could come back. We can’t let that happen. I insist,” he said emphatically and reached to grab the item in question. Comb tried to move away but she reacted too slowly. He grabbed the tip of the towel and pulled.
What he saw next definitely surprised him. He expected the poison joke to mess with Comb’s mane somehow, her being a stylist was a big giveaway in that regard, and the expectations turned into certainty the moment he noticed the towel, but this change surpassed his imagination by a mile. There wasn’t a single hair on Comb’s head. Her preciously kept mane simply disappeared without a trace.
Comb gasped, her hooves shot up to the bald skin on her head and the streams of her tears resumed their flow. From her point of view the game was over. From his point it wasn’t.
“But Comb, you said you didn’t do your mane! What an interesting new style!” he exclaimed mockingly. Comb focused her watery eyes on him and noticed that his smile turned into an evil smirk. Suddenly everything clicked.
“You!” she shouted and jumped from under the duvet. “What did you do to me?!” she continued and started to hyperventilate.
“Me? How could I have done anything? I was gone for two days, remember?” he stated, the smirk slowly fading. “No, it’s what you did. You were whoring around, weren’t you?” His voice was venomous like cockatrice now.
“What?! How dare you accuse me-” Comb yelled but was interrupted.
“You were! Or are you telling me you have always had blue dots down there? I think I would notice!” Profitable demanded, raising his voice with every word till he was almost shouting too.
Only now did Comb realize that she uncovered herself. Her nether lips were unnaturally engorged and in the full view, and small blue spots adored every inch of them. She grabbed the duvet she threw aside before and pulled it up to her chin. Profitable continued his tirade.
“I can’t believe that you did this to me! Such disrespect. Such disgrace!” he fumed. “What will the ponies say? What will they think of me once they find out that my wife sleeps around?!” However resigned Comb was, the last two statements stirred her own anger.
“What they will think and what they will say! That’s all you care about! You even married me just to look good. You only have me for representation, to show how successful you are. I¨m nothing but a piece of furniture to you! But he? He loves me. He cares about how I feel, not like you!” she scolded him hysterically, releasing the long pent-up frustration and hatred. Spent from her emotional strain she hugged herself and quietly sobbed.
He only glared her down. “What is his name?” he asked coldly
She lifted her eyes. “It’s me who can’t believe you did this to me,” she whispered.
He pulled a small ampule from his saddlebag and held it in front of Comb. She could make out the word antidote written on it.
“You want this, don’t you? Tell me his name and it is yours.” He was right. At that moment Comb deeply wished to get her hooves at the ampule. But despite the white rage she could see rising in his eyes, a promise of other persuading methods about to come, she managed to control herself and instead of saying anything or trying to seize the antidote she defiantly returned the stare.
“What! Is! His! Name!” he shouted, stressing each word, and held out his hoof to strike her across the face.
Comb prepared for the pain, but it never came. In the last second he snapped out of his enraged state, realizing what he almost did, and laid the hoof back on the bed. However, apologizing wasn’t a plausible course of action for him, so he hid his shame.
“I will find out soon enough. A freak who lost his special talent can’t hide in Canterlot for long,” he said calmly as he put the antidote back into his saddlebag and tossed her the towel he still held in his left forehoof.
“We are getting divorced, that’s beyond discussion. Not tomorrow, the office is closed on Mondays, but on Tuesday,” Profitable informed her icily and started walking to the front door.
“Where are you going?” Comb demanded, little bit of her self-confidence or maybe fear taking rule of her when the danger passed, and stood up on the bed.
He stopped on the threshold of the apartment. “To the hotel. I refuse to sleep in the same flat with a freak and a slut. Goodnight, Finesse. Comb isn’t something you would use now.”
“Will I stay like this forever?” she asked emotionlessly, too tired to continue the fight.
He weighed it for a second before he answered, “No. No, I won’t be cruel. I will give you the antidote, but only when the divorce is finished. See it as my insurance that you cooperate.” And with that he was out of the apartment and the door slammed loudly.
Her legs gave up and she slided down on the bed. She was utterly defeated and felt broken. It’s no difference. I’m done with or without my mane. What only will happen with me now? Canterlot will reject me. And what about Stormy? He is in trouble because of me. she thought and allowed herself to cry in earnest.
Although Profitable made his way to a hotel just like he said to Comb, sleeping wasn’t the highest ranking task on his list of priorities that evening. Clearing his head and defeating the shame brought by being cheated on and his own actions, however, held this position firmly, and so instead of entering his hired room he went directly to the hotel bar.
On regular Sunday evening he wouldn’t drink at all, not even in stressful situations, because he needed to be fresh for work. But an unwritten rule developed during the last few months, saying that he wasn’t required to show up until noon the day after the return from business trips. It was very convenient because the events of that day really made him want to be hangover the next morning.
His wish was granted and the throbbing in his head still accompanied him as he walked through the midday Canterlot. The grey clouds from previous evening still covered the sky and mercifully provided shield against the sun rays.He probably wouldn’t be able to make his way to work otherwise, even though he wisely chose a hotel close to the seat of his employer.
He was looking forward to getting into the five-storeys-high building which was the headquarters of the company he worked in. The mostly monotonous job and hectic conditions promised an escape from the thoughts of divorce, so when he saw the familiar sign on the white facade, a norm in Canterlot proper, he quickened his pace eagerly.
Upon entering he was immediately assaulted by a turmoil of ponies running from office to office, papers, shannons and cups of coffee flying in unicorns’ magic auras, and shouted orders and demands from all sides. This alone wouldn’t strike him as strange, Mondays were, after all, always busy days, but a certain desperation was noticeable in the mess surrounding him that day..
Not being able to uncover the reason for this feeling on his own, he made his way to the fifth floor where the office of his boss was located. It was only natural that Stormy Voice wanted to be informed about the events of Profitable’s journeys, so after the first instance when Stormy actually had to call Profitable into his office, the latter adopted the policy of giving the reports from his own initiative.
As he entered the anteroom of his boss’s office, he sighed in relieve. The noise of the chaos from downstairs couldn’t reach this place. The grey earth pony mare with black rimmed glasses on her muzzle and magenta mane in a bun sat behind the table as she always did. He smiled at the stable point in the everchanging environment and spoke:
“Good afternoon, Sharp Pen. How are you today? What’s with that chaos downstairs?” She raised her head from the paper she was filling and smiled in Profitable’s direction.
“Hi, Deal,” she chirped. She was the only pony who called him that. She simply couldn’t get used to his name change and he forbid her to call him Quickie. Several times, actually, before she finally gave it up. “You wouldn’t believe what happened. It’s really horrible! Everypony is trying to salvage what they can!” she exclaimed mincingly and started to fan herself with a hoof.
“Well? What so horrible happened?” asked Profitable impatiently. He knew how theatral could Sharp Pen sometimes get, and expected this to be another such occasion.
“I was getting there!” she retorted. “You know how today we were supposed to sell the Fillydelphia branch to those griffons?” Profitable nodded, cold sweat breaking on his forehead. This couldn’t be good. “Well, it failed. Completely. They left and ceased all business contact.”
It took him few seconds to find his voice again. Selling Fillydelphia branch was one of the most important endeavors of last few years. Failure meant serious trouble.
“Fail? How? That’s impossible! It was perfectly prepared, all that was left were the signatures!” he rumbled as he paced panically from one side of the anteroom to the other and back.
“Easily. For some idiotic reason Stormy Voice just told them everything! That while it isn’t in loss yet, it is still a dead end. And that we are vehemently trying to get rid of it while we still can,” Sharp Pen lamented, and Profitable had to admit that her tone was completely appropriate for the situation from the beginning.
“Wait a minute. You want to tell me that Stormy Voice, the impeccable speaker and one of the most skilled speculators, simply marched into the conference room and told his business associates that he was trying to swindle them?” he inquired incredulously.
“Yes. Well, not exactly like that, they asked him some questions and this is the result,” Sharp Pen explained.
“This doesn’t make sense at all! He was always a perfect negotiator, it is his special talent, for Celestia’s… sake…” he trailed off as the realization hit him. Suspicion made its way into his thoughts, but he needed more.
“Say, Sharp, haven’t you noticed anything else strange on him today?” Profitable questioning in a tone as natural as he could muster in such situation. Alerting Sharp Pen would do him little good.
“Hmm, anything strange,” Sharp Pen grumbled to herself, “now that you ask, he came fully clothed today. I haven’t seen him in clothes in like… ever,” she said slowly.
“‘Was he wearing loose-fitting clothes?” he demanded eagerly, leaning slightly forward.
“Yes. Rather loose-fitting. Why do you ask?” Sharp Pen asked in confusion and tilted her head.
“No reason!” he blurted, now seeing how straightforward his questions in fact were. Now he needed to end this conversation as soon as possible. Not that he minded, he wouldn’t want to let his vengeance wait any longer.
“Is he in his office?”
“Yes, but do you think this is the best time to report? Maybe you should come back later, his world just broke down. I even made sure there aren’t any means to commit suicide in his office before he got there,” she suggested with concern. She had always been very loyal to the company, but more so to its boss, and the same could be said vice versa too. It bordered with protectionism from time to time.
“Don’t worry, he will want to hear what I have to say. I’m sure of that,” Profitable assured her as he walked to the office door. But he most definitely won’t like it.
Stormy’s office was decorated with style but modesty. Plain wooden furniture complemented the oak paneling, and small crystal chandelier gently took care of what the insufficient light from outside couldn’t, but the attention of every newcomer would be drawn to the wall-side bookcase behind the writing desk. Profitable suspected that some of the books were hollow, containing bottles of various beverages not suitable for foals. A half-empty bottle of whiskey standing on the table served as evidence for this theory.
Stormy Voice was sitting behind his desk, one hoof on a glass of golden liquid, the other supporting his head. He was wearing a loosely fitting grey suit. When he noticed Profitable entering, he sat a bit straighter.
“Hello, Profitable. I know you have a report for me, but it will have to wait. I can’t concentrate on that now.”
“I’m not here to give you the report,” Profitable answered, keeping strictly neutral tone.
“So you heard what happened. Okey then. Why don’t you take a seat, when you already invited yourself in,” sighed Stormy and limply pointed to the chair in front of the desk . Profitable accepted and made himself comfortable. “Whiskey?”
“No, thank you.” Although the rule of “what hurt you will mend you” might have worked for him and rid him of his horrible headache, Profitable wanted to stay sober for what was about to come.
“As you please. So what do you think about this mess? Everypony else already told me their opinion, whether I wanted to hear it or not, so you can too,” Stormy encouraged with a huge dose of irritation. He rarely let his emotions show in his voice, doing so in such a blatant manner meant something was very wrong with him that day.
“Well, boss,” Profitable started, “I think you should go home. You are clearly sick.” In more than one sense, he added for himself.
Stormy chuckled. “Sick? That’s new. And what kind of disease would make me spill it to those griffons?” he asked. After being pitied many times that morning, he adopted self-loathing as an automatic reaction to any possible excuse of his failure.
Profitable feigned being in deep thought and then victoriously raised his hoof.
“Oh, now I remember. It could be caused by blue-dotted-cockyathus!” he exclaimed.
The room went dead silent. Profitable was content to watch how his boss winced and how a bewildered look spread across his face. However, the show didn’t last long. Stormy managed to regain a semblance of self-control and tried to mask his slip the best he could.
“I don’t think this is the right moment for joking. I could fire you for such profanity!” he sternly stared at Profitable. The recipient just waved his hoof nonchalantly.
“Don’t worry, I don’t plan to stay here much longer.” This clearly confused Stormy, but Profitable didn’t care. “You see, blue-dotted-cockyathus is a rare disease, the main symptoms of which are swollen genitalia covered in sky blue spots and the loss of the special talent,” Profitable went on, ignoring Stormy’s paling face. “It befalls primarily mares who cheated on me, and those who fucked my wife when I was being sent on pointless business trips!” he shouted in the end, the rage from the previous evening returning. Alas, he regretted his actions the next moment because his hangover didn’t take kindly to such loud noises.
It took a moment for Stormy to comprehend the full implications of what he was just shouted at, but once he did, his emotions mimicked almost perfectly Profable’s from few second ago.
He jumped up and shouted, “You poisoned us?! How dare you! I’ll call guards on you!” He pondered whether to actually attack Profitable or not, but the dilemma was solved by the stallion in question himself.
“You do that. Go on,” he pointed at the door with mocking bow, “and you will stay like this, and the whole of Canterlot will know what you did. You will suffer just as much as me.”
This took all the wind from Stormy’s sails. He sat down heavily and poured himself another glass of whiskey.
“What do you want? Isn’t it enough you ruined my work and endangered the company?” he asked hatefully, his voice low, almost whispering.
“To maim you, castrate you and throw your mangled body down from the Canterlot Mountain. But life rarely gives us what we want,” he smiled. “No. I will leave this company. You will terminate my employment because my position will no longer exist. You will give me excellent recommendation and severance pay of 5 of my normal salaries. When it is done, you will get the cure for your disease,” he finished listing his demands. Unlike with Comb, dealing with Stormy was supposed to bring profit.
“I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” It was more of a rhetorical question, so Stormy didn’t even wait for the answer. “Okay then. The papers will be ready by tomorrow. But don’t you dare to show up again after that. I won’t let anypony to leach on me,” he threatened but it was an empty gesture.
“I didn’t know that you think about me so low. Well, it is of little consequence. I won’t show up, don’t worry,” said Profitable and started walking to the door. In that moment Stormy broke from his defeated state and remembered something more important to him than his self-preservation..
“I hope you didn’t do anything to Comb, for your own good. What will happen to her now?” he shouted after retreating stallion who winced once again at the loud noise.
Profitable didn’t know why he bothered to answer, but something told him it would be a good idea. “Apart from the poisoning, she is alright. Physically. And we will get divorced tomorrow, of course,” he stated as if it was the most obvious thing in Equestria, which wasn’t too far from the truth.
“I will raise the severance to ten monthly salaries, if the divorce is mutual,” Stormy offered, but made sure not to show how important this was to him. Mutual divorce would save Comb’s reputation, and reputation meant more than money in Canterlot.
“This isn’t about money, Stormy Voice. She betrayed me and will pay for it,” Profitable said seemingly determined to follow through with his original plan, but inside he decided to get as much as possible from the situation.
“Twelve salaries then,” Stormy haggled, losing his composure slightly. He saw it as his duty to get Comb out of this misfortune.
“I said it -”
“Fifteen!” exclaimed now desperate Stormy.
“You wouldn’t be able to justify such severance in front of the board
“I’ll pay it from my own funds,” he explained, not dropping the volume of his voice a single bit. Then he turned his eyes to the ground and waited for Profitable’s verdict.
“Would you please stop shouting? My head is killing me!” wailed Profitable, but then a pleased smirk found its way on his muzzle. “You really love her, don’t you?” Stormy just nodded, withholding a biting answer for sake of making this arrangement. “Well then, it is a deal then. Meet us at the chancellor’s office tomorrow at ten. We will leave the documents at a notary, so we can both be sure the other one keeps his word.” He got another nod and resumed the walking, but there was one more strike for him to make.
“You know, this is why I changed my name. Not all of the deals I make are quick, but they are always profitable,” and with that he closed the door.
It’s already quarter past ten, it’s not like him to be late for something so important as a divorce. Or my doom, Comb wondered sorrowfully. She was sitting in the lobby of the Canterlot chancellor’s office, waiting for her soon-to-be ex-husband to show up. To cover her physical predicament she chose to wear a long light-green coat matching her eyes and a black and white striped headscarf. If she were to fall, she would at least look as nice as possible for the occasion, even though she couldn’t show her body.
Monday went just as bad for her as the Sunday did, with the small difference that she wasn’t yelled at. She called to her work and excused her absence by being sick - a small white lie cruelly resembling the true state of things. Few of her friends decided to come around and visit her, but she naturally refused to let them in, excusing her behavior by not wanting to infect them.
Two days and two nights spent curled up in her bed shifting between sleeping and crying and dreading the future in both states were close to the limit she could manage with her sanity still intact. On the break of Tuesday she was almost looking forward to being divorced. She even arrived to the office earlier, just in case Profitable would do the same, but it resulted only in endless minutes of anticipation and worries.
The entrance door made of same light blue transparent glass as the rest of the wall opened. Comb raised her eyes, but all she could see was a silhouette of a stallion against the dim light coming from outside. It was the first pony who entered since the moment she had began her waiting - the weather convinced most of the ponies that solving their issues could be postponed until the rain would have stopped - so she assumed the newcomer could only be Profitable. She stood up and made few steps toward the stallion. Her certainty of his identity only added to her surprise when the person spoke up.
“Good morning, Comb. How are you holding up?” Stormy asked tiredly, but with a smile on his lips.
“Stormy?! I’m so glad to see you! What are you doing here?” she exclaimed as she rushed to him and hugged him tightly. Yet after a few seconds she stiffened and pulled back. “You have to leave. Now! Profitable will be here any minute, and if he sees you, he will put two and two together!”
“So he didn’t tell you?” he asked with a small amount of disgust. “I suppose, I should have expected that. Why would he.”.
“Tell me what? He called me in the evening yesterday, telling me only to wait her at ten. But thankfully he is late, as you can see,” Comb informed and started looking him over. There was something different about him, but she couldn’t put her hoof on what it was.
“He already knows that it is me. He confronted me yesterday shortly after he arrived to work. That’s why I am here, to-” he explained, still keeping his serene smile, but was cut short before he could share what he was supposed to do there.
“Sweet Celestia! I’m so sorry! But how did he know? He couldn’t have just guessed it!” she exclaimed and hugged him once more. Knowing how harsh Profitable was to her, she didn’t want to imagine how the conversation with Stormy could have gone.
“No, he-” Stormy started once again, but before he could finish the sentence, the answer to her question came from behind him.
“He didn’t have to. Stormy Voice here made such a mess in the company that it was an instant giveaway. Isn’t it so, Stormy Voice?” Profitable chuckled. He had spied the two talking through the glass wall for a while and then sneaked in, making as little noise as possible. They jumped away from each other quickly, scared by his sudden appearance. That presented him with a good view of them both, and he chuckled once more at what he saw.
“Oh, how inappropriate I feel now, being naked when you both wear such nice outfits,” he mocked them.
At that remark Comb realized what seemed so strange about Stormy. He normally didn’t wear anything, but at that occasion a grey loose-fitting suit covered his whole body.
“So that too happened to you?” she asked and deflated even more. Stormy only nodded, responding in that simple gesture both questions addressed to him in last few seconds.
“I want to apologize for being late,” Profitable continued, “but it seems you managed to entertain yourselves without me quite well anyway.”
“What took you so long by the way? I thought you wanted to get rid of me as soon as possible,” Comb inquired, her temper rising from the teasing. But her tone didn’t phase Profitable at all.
“Oh, of course I do. You have your dearest lover to thank for that delay. I must say, that I am impressed, Stormy Voice. To assemble the whole board at such a short notice couldn’t have been easy. Did you go through all that trouble to show some respect for a good employee, or just to get some time with her before the divorce?” Profitable asked. For once, his praise was genuine, although his words bit just like his insults.
Stormy shook his head disdainfully.
“You really are full of yourself, Comb was right. No, any employee would get the same treatment you got. I respect all the ponies working in the company. And I couldn’t plan to meet Comb here too well. You didn’t inform me about the time of your meeting, remember? Besides, it would be rather petty, close to your level of behavior, actually. So stop making things up,” he reprimanded the other stallion.
Profitable had to admit to himself that his last accusation was rather wild in fact, but once again an apology wasn’t an option. “I can’t be sure about anything around you anymore. If somepony told me last week that you had been sleeping with Comb, I would have called him silly,” he barked angrily. “Anyway, did you bring those documents?”
“Yes, I have them here. And the money too,” Stormy assured him and started walking further into the building, leading the mare along.
“What documents? What money? Wihat’s going on?” demanded now thoroughly confused Comb.
Profitable quickly caught up with them and rolled his eyes.
“I thought you already told her. You were chatting so amicably back in the lobby! Some lover you are when you keep such thing to yourself” he complained.
“I was about to tell her when your fat ugly face showed up!” Stormy retorted. The constant provocations finally broke his self-control.
“Better having a fat ugly face than a dalmatine-turned cock,” Profitable smirked.
Before Stormy managed to formulate another retort, Comb stepped in:
“Will somepony tell me what this is all about, or not?” she almost shouted.
Her outburst brought Stormy back to his senses. He tried to blame his behavior on the poison joke, but deep down he knew he would have react the same way any day.
“Profitable Deal is being fired from the company. I brought the review of his work, the recommendation for future employers, the contract giving him the severance of 5 salaries-”
“Wait, wait, wait. We settled on fifteen!” Profitable butted in.
“-and a personal contract stating that if the divorce is mutual, I will pay Profitable ten times his salary from my own funds. Really, stop judging me by what you would do. I couldn’t simply put the number into the official document,” Stormy finished.
“I guess that makes sense. Let’s go sign it to the notary and get over with this. I will store the antidotes there as well. I am sure you don’t trust me any more than I trust you. And hurry, I don’t want to spend my whole day with any of you.”
“And just where do you think I am leading us? I can relate with that sentiment. Would you sit in the waiting room while we take care of this, Comb?” Stormy asked and turned to where the mare should have been, but found only an empty space. She stood few yards behind them, eyes unfocused and mouth slightly open. He quickly walked back to her.
“Comb? Comb, are you alright?” he demanded and waved a hoof in front of her eyes. she returned from her dazed state and looked incredulously at Profitable.
“Mu- mutual divorce?” she asked with a reluctant hope in her voice.
“Yes. Your lover obviously values you pretty high. I can’t comprehend why though,” Profitable smirked. “Let’s go already before I change my mind.”
“Right. I will explain it all to you when this is over, okey?” Stormy decided to let Profitable’s remark slide and opted to peck Comb on her cheek lightly.
Comb stayed alone in front of the notary’s office. Since the words ‘mutual divorce’ left Stormy’s mouth, she barely perceived her surroundings. She couldn’t believe it. It seemed that she was pardoned just when the noose had been placed around her neck. It was almost too much to comprehend or believe. But then another thought struck her developing good mood hard: Did… did Profitable just sell me right now? He did, didn’t he? So I really was nothing but a possession for him. Few tears rolled down her cheeks at that conclusion.
However, she refused to descend back into her depression; she used this to strengthen her determination to get over with the divorce as quickly as possible. She wouldn’t have to wait too much longer; the stallions emerged from the door.
“I am surprised you actually managed to draft that contract, considering your current predicament and all,” Profitable teased, closing the door behind them.
“My special talent is negotiating and giving speeches, not doing paperwork. Besides, even you would be able to put such a simple thing together,” shot Stormy back.
“Pity you didn’t use letters while dealing with those griffins then.”
Stormy looked like he was about to jump at Profitable now, but Comb quickly stepped to him, placed her hoof on his shoulder and shook her head lightly with pleading look on her face. He took a few calming breaths and nodded.
“Let’s finish this, before I finish you,” he grumbled in the direction of Profitable.
The smirk never left the face of the green stallion as he led them to the divorce office. Divorces had never been something rare in a big city like Canterlot, but the influx of the instances among the high society, seen as a disgusting trend of the youth by some of the more conservative nobles, forced the chancellor to hire another pony who would be dealing with that agenda exclusively. The procedure had to be simplified as well, the nobles didn’t want to waste time with bureaucracy when they could spend it with social mingling just as well.
“Here it is. Comb, after you,” Profitable opened the door and let the mare enter first. Just before he closed it behind himself, he turned and called at Stormy: “Sit and stay!”
Even through the closed door Comb could hear Stormy’s stomping. She only hoped he would calm a bit down before the divorce was performed. Profitable was playing with fire, and she couldn’t tell how long he would remain lucky.
The light cough from behind the desk interrupted her train of thought.
“Hello. How may I help you?” an average looking auburn unicorn clark asked. Comb and Profitable simultaneously gave him a disapproving stare to which he reacted by shrinking into himself.
“Yeah, silly question. My name is Legal Draft. Take a seat please and we will begin,” he offered and rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. They did as they were told to and waited for his next move.
“So. The matter at hoof is clear, but we need to settle the details. Who is the cause of the divorce?” Legal Draft questioned and reached into one of the drawer for necessary forms.
The moment of truth came for Comb. Her future life depended on Profitable’s next words. She visibly tensed up and held her breath.
Profitable gazed at her for a few seconds, enjoying her anxiety, and then turned back to Legal Draft.
“Nopony. It is a mutual divorce,” he stated calmly and chuckled at the relieved sigh coming from Comb.
“Okay, I guess?” Legal Draft said, raising his eyebrows at the gimmicks unfurling in front of him. He grabbed one of the forms he prepared and filled the heading. “What are your names?”
“Profitable Deal and Comb Finesse,” Profitable decided it would be better, if he simply dictated all the information himself.
The clark looked up from the paper. “Who is who?”
Profitable glanced at his cutie mark, which was in clark’s full view, and then back at Legal Draft. “Really? If the observation skills of all the government employees are this high, no wonder we are in recession.”
Legal Draft shrank even more. “I’m sorry sir. It must be the bad light here, otherwise I would have noticed.” He took a quick gulp of coffee from his cup and straightened in his seat. “Coffee?” he offered and earned another glare for obstructing. This time he only winced. “Anyway, place of residence?”
“Maple lane 47, Canterlot.”
“Where did you enter into marriage?”
“Canterlot.”
“Okey. Sign here and here please.” He passed the form and a pen to them, and they confirmed their will to be divorced.
“Now I will look up your file and we are almost done. Please wait here,” Legal Draft said and trotted out of the door, happy to get away from the irritable pair.
With the danger gone, Comb’s fear receded and she turned to Profitable. “You sold me. Like some pet you don’t want anymore,” she reproached.
“Yes, but not cheaply, mind you,” he replied, obviously satisfied with his actions.
“Actually, I am grateful. You degraded me on a par with animals. The high society would do much worse things to me.”
“I didn’t do it for you. I-” he started, but Legal Draft entered the room again at that moment.
“There is one last thing we need to deal with. No pun intended, sir,” he turned apologetically to Profitable. The stallion in question only waved his hoof. “You need to decide how your possessions will be divided.”
“That will be easy. The things we brought into the marriage will return to the original owner. She will keep the money she earned as well as her personal items. The apartment is mine,” Profitable recited without hesitation. He thought this through the moment he decided to accept Stormy Voice’s offer.
Legal Draft turned to Comb. “Do you agree with this? It doesn’t sound too mutual to me,” he asked with concern.
“Yes, I agree with this. Could you hurry please? I want this to be finally over,” she urged. The clark only shrugged, slightly annoyed at the stern treatment he was getting, and noted the named conditions in the form.
“In that case sign here.” He passed them the pen again. “Congratulations, you are now divorced. You don’t have to kiss your former bride anymore again,” Legal Draft giggled, but the sound died away under their gaze pretty soon. To hide his embarrassment he flared his horn and two copies of the original form appeared on the table.
“Here are your documents,” he said quietly. They grabbed them and left the office without another word.
Stormy cooled down considerably during the time they spent in the office, but that didn’t mean he regained patience. They found him striding from one end of the hallway to the other and back, constantly muttering to himself.
“I would like to get my money now,” Profitable called at him. Stormy turned and trotted to them, reaching for the paper Profitable held. He understood immediately and handed Stormy the form. Upon reading it, Stormy nodded and started walking back to the notary’s office.
The visit took even less time than the last one, and before Comb could get comfortable on the couch in the waiting room, they reemerged from the office. Profitable carried two full saddlebags which were formerly in Stormy’s possession, Stormy in turn held a small package. He promptly ripped the wrapping and pulled out two ampules. White letters on each said a single word: ‘ANTIDOTE.’ He passed one to Comb and looked at Profitable.
“We are in chancellor’s office. If this isn’t what you promised, you will see that poison joke didn’t affect my lawsuit-drafting abilities either. You will be under arrest in under 5 minutes,” he promised and downed his ampule. Comb followed his example shortly.
The effect was immediate. Comb felt a tingling sensation on her head and in her nethers, and in the next second her headscarf fell off. She lifted her hooves and touched her regrown mane. The initial relieved face turned into a panicked one quickly, and she opened her saddlebag, pulling a mirror out. After a single look she dropped the item and rewrapped the scarf around her head.
“I have to go to the stylist! See you later, Stormy. I will come for my things tomorrow morning, Profitable,” she yelled and started galloping away.
“Comb, wait! Would you please meet me in three hours at the statue of Celestia on the main square?” Stormy shouted after the quickly retreating equine figure.
“Okay, whatever, have to go now!” she yelled over her shoulder and then she was gone.
The two stallions were left speechless in the waiting room. They both wore the same dumbfounded look on their face, their mouths slightly open.
Stormy recovered from the shock first. “Does she… act like this often?”
“More than you would think,” Profitable nodded sagely.
“Oh Celestia, what have I gotten myself into?!” Stormy sighed in exasperation.
“What you deserve, I guess. Well, I will be going too. Pleasure to make business with you, Stormy Voice.”
“See you tomorrow. For the last time, I hope,” Stormy replied and made his way out of the building. There was much he had to take care of and he had only 3 hours to do so.
To the new and happy life
Comb trotted briskly through the streets of Canterlot. She was already late for the meeting with Stormy and she refused to let him wait any longer. However, there was no doubt in her mind that he would forgive her this delay, she had a good reason for it after all. After two days spent bald like a newly hatched bird she simply couldn’t resist the deluxe pampering offered to her by her favourite hairdresser. Not to mention that her regrown mane needed all the attention it could receive.
The statue of Celestia located in the centre of Canterlot main square came into view and soon Comb could recognise the figure of Stormy Voice leaning against the pedestal. When he randomly glanced in her direction, he smiled and waved at her. She returned the gesture and galloped to him, embracing him in a hug upon getting into reach.
“I’m so sorry I kept you waiting. It’s just that I had to take care of my mane! I couldn’t stand leaving it in such a disarray!” she explained, her voice muffled by his coat.
“I don’t mind, really,” he assured her and chuckled a bit. “I wasn’t even sure you took in what I was shouting after you; I was ready to make a tour of the hairdressing saloons in search of you. You being fashionably late is a much more pleasant turn of events.” He pulled back a little and pecked her on the forehead, taking a better look on her mane in the process. “And I must say that the this manestyle is well worth letting me wait a bit. You are even more beautiful than before. I thought that to be impossible.”
She blushed slightly at the compliment. “Instead of getting yelled at I get complimented. That’s really a pleasant change from how he…” Her face showed some pain and she looked at the ground, hiding few tears. “Sorry. Let’s not talk about him at all. It is finally over, we don’t have to worry about that anymore,” she said, pushing the memories back where they belonged.
He caressed her cheek and smiled at her reassuringly. “If you ever want to talk about it, I will be there for you to listen. But today isn’t for mourning, there are other things to do. And you don’t need to apologize constantly, you know?”
Comb looked away sheepishly. “Uh, sorry about that.”
“Exactly,” Stormy chuckled and earned a small jab from her.
“So, why did you want to meet me here?” she asked and extricated herself completely from the hug.
“Well, for one I want to take you for a lunch to celebrate and this place is close to all the good restaurants. And I would like to ask you something, but that can wait a little longer,” he smiled enigmatically.
“Don’t tease me like that. You know well that I can’t stop thinking about what is to happen when you do announcement like that!” she whined and again punched his hoof lightly. The sparks in her eyes betrayed her mirth. “Have you thought about any particular restaurant, or do you want me to choose?”
“Next time I will let you pick the place, but today I have something in mind. Follow me,” he said and setted off.
Comb didn’t move and took a few seconds to behold him. He got rid of the gray suit, and a pair of new saddlebags adorned his sides. It also seemed that he got his coat groomed and his mane styled since she saw him three hours ago. He looked simply perfect to her. That was a part of the reason why she disobeyed his demand and instead of simply following him she caught up with him and leaned into his side, nuzzling his cheek while doing so.
After few minutes of walking, Comb decided to break the silence and take care of one troubling thing on her mind.
“You could have called me that you negotiated the mutual divorce with Profitable. I wouldn’t have been so nervous,” she reprimanded him.
Stormy expected this theme to come up and sighed. “I really wanted to call you. But do you remember what Profitable said about the mess I caused? It was really bad. The whole company spent the rest of yesterday trying to fix what I could and I didn’t get a minute for myself until midnight. Then I thought you were already asleep. I know how you must have felt, but I really couldn’t get the message to you. Will you forgive me that?”
She nuzzled him again. “Of course I will. Besides, I did practically the same thing. To an extent it was my fault that you got into that trouble. If I called you about the poison, you would have taken a leave.” Her mood dropped at that realization. “Were you at least successful with solving those problems?” she asked with hope.
“Partially. The transaction failed, and I had to pay a fee to the griffins for trying to fool them, but at least they will continue to trade with us. It would be a disaster if they were to cancel all contracts,” he informed her and smiled warmly. “And if you have warned me, things would have been much worse. I wouldn’t have gotten the chance to talk Profitable into that agreement and we couldn’t enjoy the lunch together today.”
“You are right with that, dear. But I still feel bad for causing so big problems,” Comb said dejectedly.
“Don't be, everything is fine and as it should be. And look, we are here.”
They stopped in front of a house covered in ivy. The signboard over the door said ‘Autumn’s Fair’ in decorative letters puzzled from red, orange and yellow leaves. Comb recalled hearing about this place from her friends who attended more of the social gatherings of the upper crust, and from those rumors she pieced together that the place wasn’t exactly a diner for commoners.
“Are you sure, Stormy? This place is pretty expensive, and they probably require reservations, like, month in advance,” Comb asked hesitantly.
“Just trust me, dear,” he said simply and entered the establishment.
The porter stepped from his place. “Good afternoon, sir.”
“Good afternoon. Stormy Voice and Comb Finesse, a table for two please,” Stormy requested nonchalantly.
“Of course, sir. This way, please,” the porter gestured for them to follow him and led them into an oak-paneled room with a high-fibre multicolored carpet. The blotches of different colors resembled the forest ground in autumn. The room was illuminated by many lamps on the walls as well as a crystal chandelier hanging down from the gray ceiling. Comb noticed that the true ceiling couldn’t be seen through a layer of real clouds.
They were seated at a table close to the window leading to the garden. The view at the flowers and trees would be more pleasurable, if the sky didn’t look like it was going to fall on the ground at any second. In the other hand, a sunny weather would diminish the effect created by the candles lit on the table.
“Your drinks and appetizers will be here soon,” the porter said with a smile and made his way to the other staff members to inform them about the customers. Stormy caught Comb’s questioning glance and quickly explained.
“I preordered for us, so we don’t have to wait for our food.”
She nodded and let her eyes drift around the walls and furniture, taking in all the luxury of the place and the appearance of other ponies seated in the room, before they settled at Stormy’s face. In contrast to Comb’s awed expression, he was grinning like a Cheshire cat.
“Wow. This place is even fancier than I heard. How did you manage to get us here? You couldn’t have planned for this,” she questioned.
“Well, you are right that a reservation would be needed. But the owner and I are friends. Long ago I borrowed him some money to start this place, and since then he bends the rules for me a bit. I made the reservation after I left the chancellor’s office this morning, and he wrote an old date into the book,” Stormy explained as the waiter set a bottle of wine and two glasses on the table. “What do you want to toast to?”
“To a new life, I guess. Hopefully a happy and not-lived-alone one,” she smiled sheepishly.
“We can see about that” the mysterious smile returned on Stormy’s muzzle. “So, to a happy new life,” he declared, and their glasses clinked against one another. “Do you have plans for the afternoon?”
“Not really. I have to find some hotel to stay in until I get a place to live, so I think that will go first,” her smile dropped a little at the prospect.
Stormy squirmed restlessly on his cushion. “I… I wanted to…” he tried to speak, but he horribly stammered from nervosity.
“Wanted what, Stormy?” Comb inquired, confused by the sudden difficulties of the otherwise very eloquent stallion.
“I wanted to offer you that you could live with me,” he finally managed to say and winced for a reason unknown to Comb. The nervosity moved from his voice directly into his expression.
A bright smile appeared on her face. Somehow this possibility didn’t even cross her mind before that moment, but once the offer was in the open, she didn’t want to live anywhere else than at Stormy’s house.
“Really?” she squeaked excitedly, just as the waiter brought them the bowls with daisy salad. Were he not such a professional, the sudden noise would have certainly made him drop the items and ruin the exquisite dish.
Stormy watched this in amusement, the nervosity melting away like snow on Winter wrap-up day, and he put on his standard confident smirk.
“Really. I think my house is big enough for both of us. I know you find the secret meetings very romantic, but there is no need to pay for two places know, is there? And it would give you a free afternoon today as a bonus.”
“You can’t but see economical aspects in everything, can you?” Comb remarked sternly and giggled at his once again panicked expression. She extended her hooves to grab his. “Of course I accept! I would love to live with you, dear.”
Stormy heaved a sigh of relief, perhaps a bit bigger than the situation required. “Great! I even got the papers covering the change of residence ready for you.” Upon hearing this she gazed at him with quizzical amusement. “What?! You would need them anyway, so I stopped at the office to retrieve them for you!” he defended his motives.
“You are so easy to mess with, you know that?” she asked with another giggle.
“And you obviously made your goal in life to constantly remind me about that,” he shook his head disapprovingly, but couldn’t stay upset for longer than 5 seconds. Then he returned the smile. “Anyway, let’s eat our lunch. The waiter will be here with another dish soon. You are in for a real treat, by the way.”
Their lunch continued in comfortable silence disturbed only by an occasional praise of the quality of the food. Comb now fully understood why the restaurant was in such a high demand. As they put down their utensils, Stormy got up.
“Please excuse me for a moment. I will be right back, even before they serve the dessert,” he winked and trotted out of the room. Something about his behavior seemed off to Comb, but she shrugged it off as seeing things.
Despite the promise, the length of Stormy’s absence grew to almost ten minutes. Comb started worrying and was about to find a waiter to ask if he saw her companion, when a quiet music echoed through the restaurant. Her ears perked up, and she lifted her head to look around and find the source of the music. Many other guests did the same.
The sound returned with more intensity. She discerned a sweet violin song coming from behind the door to the anteroom. Then a white-coated earth pony mare entered. She was balancing on her hindlegs, holding the violin in her forhooves. Moving in that manner obviously didn’t pose any problem for her which in addition to the beautiful song drew few gasps of amazement from her audience.. She made her way to Comb’s table and stopped next to Stormy’s now vacant cushion where. She went through few more tacts of the piece, before she signaled with her eyes to Comb to look back at the door.
Comb caught the hint and turned back just in time to see Stormy step over the threshold, holding a bouquet of crimson roses in his mouth. He was smiling brightly around the stems and walked slowly, synchronising his steps with the rhythm of the song. He was gazing directly into Comb’s eyes and she involuntarily stood up, hypnotized by his smiling focused eyes, and waited for him to approach, the look of anticipation mixed with confusion and joy on her face.
As he got into a hoof’s reach, he offered her the flowers and she seized them in her magic, smelling them briefly. He dragged his right forehoof through the fibers of the carpet back and forth a few times before he spoke up.
“Comb, I know this is a bit sudden and that this day probably isn’t ideal to do this, but…” he trailed off slightly and shook his head before he regained his confidence and continued, “I really love you and I think you are the most beautiful mare in the existence. By Celestia, that’s why I call you Finesse of Nature all the time. And I really want to be with you. Not just like lovers, but something more.”
As he spoke, Comb’s expression lost all its confused quality, and she seemed to be glowing at this point. Is he really going to ask what I think he is? Comb mused, refusing to let herself believe it without hearing the words. She didn’t have to wait long.
Stormy reached into his saddlebag and pulled a black wooden box from it. He lowered himself on his hindlegs, opening the box at the same time and revealing a golden necklace with a big star-shaped ruby.
“Comb Finesse, will you marry me?”
For a few seconds absolutely nothing moved. His smile started to fade, but suddenly she threw herself on him. Were he not an earth pony, he would be tackled to the ground. His yelp of surprise was silenced by Comb’s lips pressed against his own. Overcoming the initial shock he wrapped his hooves around her and pulled her closer. The scene was rewarded by thunderous applause from the ponies present in the room. Few best wishes could be heard as well.
“I think she is trying to say ‘yes.’ It is a rather original way I would say,” a new voice said mirthfully from the door. “I am glad for that because otherwise I would have made this cake for nothing.”
The pair separated and looked at the owner of the voice. A red earth pony stallion was standing about ten feet from them, grinning from ear to ear and balancing a big pink cake with the words ‘Happy Engagement!’ written on it with white icing. He happily trotted to the table and unloaded his precious cargo there.
“You could have given us few more seconds, Tomato Growth,” Stormy reprimanded, a bit upset that the kiss ended so quickly.
“Aww, come on. You will have the rest of your lives for that stuff!” Tomato exclaimed and lightly punched Stormy in the shoulder.
“True enough,” Comb commented, “and Tomato got it right the first time too.” Stormy looked a bit lost, so she added with a grin, “Yes. Yes, I will most gladly marry you, dear.”
Hearing that, Stormy picked the necklace and placed it around Comb’s neck before hugging her tightly.
“I am also glad that you kept your word and returned before they served the dessert. This looks delicious!” Comb beamed as they returned to their places.
Tomato picked up a knife and cut a slice of the cake for each. Then he leaned to Stormy’s ear and whispered so loudly that all in the room could hear, “Asking me to bake this confectionery cutie in just three hours was one of the biggest requests you have ever made. But I understand that for such a beautiful mare you want only the best.”
“And you definitely are the best, Tomato Growth. You will be well recompensed at the wedding feast,” Stormy promised in response.
