Knighty leaned back from the laptop screen, sliding right off the long black couch. “Okay, my little blog post is all taken care of,” he muttered, running a hoof through his frizzy greenish-yellow mane, “and now I just—” His eyes moved over to the upper right corner of the laptop. “Oh, no more messages?” He magically moved over the mouse and signed out.
Ahhh… guess it’s just another night with Poultron, just the two of us. He turned around, gazing at the shimmering sky outside his bedroom window. He could barely spot a single star yet, everything seemed so slick and smooth. We’ll just head over to the den, put some Doctor Whooves on the television, grab some Cheesy Poofs, and relax. Knighty started to walk downstairs. Yet he felt something deep inside of him, slowing him down and somehow calling to his very soul. It almost seemed as if a tractor beam sucked him right back to the laptop.
"Wait a second. It’s… it’s…” He broke out into a huge grin, his favorite word reflected in his huge, pretty eyes. “Friday.” His heart went from nothing to beating like a jackhammer. “It’s that time!” He ripped off his helmet and tossed it out the window.
Meanwhile, Poultron sat in a pile of marshmallow-y pillows in the den, his legs propped up atop the nearby fishtank. He was none the wiser as Knighty’s head slowly rose from under the fluffy white lace under his left hoof. Poultron kept on staring at his copy of The Equestrian Economist, frowning at how Prime Minister David Clydesdale had decided to accelerate the austerity measures reforming the royal guard's pension systems. Poutron heard a little ruffling from deep under him in the pillow mountain, and he cringed.
“Jitterbug,” Knighty muttered from beneath the pillows.
“No.”
“Jitterbug!” Knighty called out.
“No, just no.” Poultron shoved the magazine in front of his face.
Knighty threw himself up into the air, pillows dripping all over his body like cake on a stripper. Poutron shimmed up against the wall, hooves still propped lazily on the fishtank and magazine still held over his face. Knighty jiggled his rear in the air to an imaginary beat.
“You put the boom-boom into my heart, Poultron,” he sang out.
The other stallion remained still as a statue.
“Seriously,” Knighty said, leaning over and trying to talk through the thick magazine, “you’re not really leaving me alone on 80s night, are you?”
Poutron made an affirmative grunt.
“But you send the soul sky high when the loving starts!” Knighty made his best puppy dog eyes and snuggly puppy whine, although he felt silly a second afterwards since Poutron couldn’t see his face.
Poultron moved his legs over, picked up a pillow between them, and nudged it up against his plot. He sat down firmly. Knighty could see his ears flipping over— knowing exactly what that meant.
“Okay, fine, be that way,” Knighty said, curling his body around and heading towards the door. He paused with the handle right before his hooves. “I feeeeeeeeel so unsure…” He shifted his head back, eyes closing as he bared his soul in the music. “As I take your hoof and lead you to the dance floor…”
Poultron let out a loud groan.
“As the muuuuuuuusic diesssssssssss!” Knighty sang, twirling his slender, beautiful body in the air as he went out the door. He bumped his plot against the door, slamming it shut.
Those seven minutes walking alone in the freezing cold Hoofington night felt like seven hundred years. Knighty sauntered down the lonely grey alleyway, humming the fluffy pop song to keep him going. He’d have fun with or without anyone. He knew he would, especially once he stepped into that magical dressing room.
He turned around a decayed pegasus statue and found himself standing in front of a sea of lights. He panted with delight as he gazed upon the ‘Body Language’ nightclub. It may have had the most garish décor imaginable outside— fake anatomy diagrams with oversized limbs and medical type accoutrements jutting out all around a huge box of brutal black and white glass. He couldn’t care less. He was about to enter heaven.
Knighty sped over to the club and up a little ramp to a side entrance on the building’s right side. He whispered a quick little spell, and the door flew open. He didn’t pay much attention to the usual crowd inside, sexy wonders jutting about to and fro inside the dressing room. Everypony smiled. Everypony said ‘hello’ in some way or the other. He did his best to be friendly, but he had one thing in mind and one thing only.
Knighty locked eyes with a wide open door at the end of the little dressing stalls. He put both hooves against the door, and he wiggled his plot in the air as he slowly and dramatically shut it. He flicked on a light switch. He surveyed up the lockers to his right, the massive mirror to his front, and the baskets of beauty supplies to his left.
“Lets…”
He magically opened up his own special locker right beside the floor, golden clothes and a small, thick wig fluttering through the air.
“Get…”
He magically lifted up some dark golden lipstick, thick hair brushes, dark greyish hair color spray, and a dozen other particular items, buzzing all over his head like bees on a delicate flower.
“Fabulous!”
The flower had bloomed. Knighty was no more, a sparkling god of the dance floor standing in that place. He gazed at himself. His eyes ran along his poofy golden-brown mane— just slightly disheveled enough that it looked as if he’d staggered out of a fashion model’s bedroom but still — down his makeup coated face— his full, supple lips matching his hungry yet delicate looking features. His sleek gold lamé suit stuck tightly all along his body like paint to a wall. A thick gold chain with a male symbol at the end hung off of his neck. He looked down at the smart, shiny black shoes covered with tiny golden stars and his matching whitish-golden socks. He took a deep breath, and he gently kicked open the door behind him.
“Roxette, sweetie pie?” said a beefy stallion with a frilly red pompadour, sticking his head into the stall. “The next set has just started. You ready?”
“The question is, darling,” Roxette said, putting on that deep, masculine voice that Knightly usually only heard in his dreams. “Is the dance floor ready for me.”
The beefy stallion curled up an eyelash. Roxette nodded. He bounced out the stall, grinning and sucking in his cheeks to look as posh as possible. He heard cheers going around him. He stuck out his front right hoof and slapped a bunch of hooves and thighs.
"If you please, sweeties," Roxette said, bowing. The drag queens at the end of the hallway slid open the stage door. Knighty paused, blowing them little puckery kisses through the air, before bursting out into the crowd.
Ponies shifted back and forth in a huge mass. Deep blue lights shot out in from the sides of the walls upwards in all directions. The DJ, standing atop an enormous steel riser in front of the crowd, bobbed his head to the slow dance tune. "Neeeeeeew moon on Mondayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy," sang out an angelic British voice from the speaker coated roof, "And a firedance though the niiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight..."
Roxette made his way over to the center of the club. His eyes wandered around the various triangular shapes, ramps, mirrors, and other things jutting all around-- the whole thing looked like a children's funhouse gone wrong. Many ponies simply danced with their reflections in the mirrors. Others hopped around with cute little fillies that they had never met before. The coltcuddlers naturally tended to hang out besides the DJ riser, a set of overhangs giving them the perfect make-out spots.
Of course, they also moved all around the club. That was the thing. Everypony-- gay, straight, bisexual, transgender, and so on-- had a home in "Body Language". Everypony was loved and tolerated. All of the music felt like eveloping hooves giving you a huge. A dirty, brown-haired country colt from Appleoosa could bump hips with a drag queen with flowing blue and white striped locks, smiles all around. No other club took diversity so seriously.
The DJ looked down at Roxette, swaying his hips to the sounds. The tune faded out. The DJ slid over to the right, picked up a huge golden-brown record, and he slapped it down.
"Jitterbug!"
The crowd erupted in cheers. Hooves clopped to the bouncy beat, and eyes flew over to Roxette. He bobbed himself around the stage, his suit swaying around his body. The crowd clapped. They just naturally flowed back away from the center of the club, giving him the room that he deserved. He had them in the middle of his hooves. THey knew it. He knew it. He rattled off three more "Jitterbugs", hooves clopping hard against the big blue-lit floor below him.
"You put the boom-boom into my heart!" Roxette sang, throwing his front hooves into the air. The lights started to wiz around. He just felt the pure energy flowing through every inch of his body. "You send my soul sky high when your lovin' starts!
"Jitterbug into my braaaaaaaiiiinnnnnn," sang a smart looking white filly with a frizzy purple mane.
"Goes a bang-bang-bang!" Roxette fired an imaginary cannon into the crowd. He thrust his legs into a splits, his body wiggling uncontrollably. "Yeah! 'Til my feet do the same!"
"But something's bugging you," the coltcuddlers called out. "Something ain't right. My best friend told me what you did last night!" They waved their hooves in the air, lights sparkling onto the heads.
"Left me sleepin', in my bed," Roxette sang, sliding ten feet to the side and popping his bottom hooves into the air. "I was dreaaaaaaaaammming--" He kicked himself back up to the air, swirling his hips in a huge circle. "But I should have been with you instead!"
"Wake me up, before you go-go!" The whole club screamed out, ponies shuffling side to side. "Don't leave me hanging on like a yo-yo!"
The lyrics seemed to dissolve in Roxette's mind as his hips lost it. He jumped up into the air, twisting about in a little spiral. He slammed down on the ground and wiggled his front hooves ahead of him, casting an imginary spell. The crowd's eyes just seemed to eat him. And he just wanted to them to keep devouring him forever.
"I wanna hit that HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGGGGGGHHHHHHH!" Roxette sang at all his strength, bouncing up straight up as high as he could. The club lights bathed every last inch of him. "Yeah, yeah, yeah!"
He landed in a sea of hooves. The crowd lifted him up and he sailed on top of them around in a little circle over to the front entrance. Roxette bobbed off onto a stack of jackets and he backed up against the wall. The crowd had immediately dispersed a little, engrossed in this new, slower tune meant for couples dancing.
"Hmmmm... what cutie pie can I find for this next performance?" Roxette muttered. He glanced off at the regulars besides the DJ riser. They all seemed to be perfectly happy without him. "Well, maybe I... I know. I feel like popping some lucky girl's dance cherry tonight."
Roxette's eyes trailed off of the main crowd to the the batches of wallflowers besides the club entrance. Maybe her? She looked at a tall pegasus filly with a long, flowing green mane. She knocked her rear against the wall randomly, out of tune to the music. Nah, something just feels off. He looked over at a pair of short, stubby fillyfoolers holding hooves with each other, hearts clearly pumping hard inside their chests. They looked scared to death. Nah, that doesn't seem right either. He rejected several more mares. Come on, where's the right girl?
And then he saw her. The pegasus' slender, smooth body arched over a table right besides the corner of the club. She had a gigantic black cone sticking out of the wall besides her, resting against it awkwardly. Her brilliant yellow body shone in the white light over her, making her look like a goddess. Her fluffy pink mane curled around her shoulders and hid part of her face. She slanted over to the side at just the right moment, and Roxette gazed at her wonderful face. Her features looked so tender, so sweet, and so vunderable. She clearly wanted to be there, yet she didn't know what to do.
Roxette took a deep breath. Be still my hungry heart! She's something else. I just can sense it. He sauntered over to that special spot holding that special pegasus, curling a hoof over his hair to look as posh and stylish as possible.
To be continued...
