The rest of the flight back home went without incident. Eve and I had a good laugh about the outfit, but she insisted that once I got to the job it was serious business from there on out. From what I gathered from her and the oddly specific details of my client’s request, I had a pretty good idea what I was walking into.

"Haven't seen this place in a while," I thought to myself as I pushed open the door to my humble Manehatten Apartment, one of scores of anonymous brick buildings hastily erected to house the swelling number of human inhabitants. This was a plus in that I didn't have to stoop too much in the shower, not convenient when you're 6 feet 2 inches tall. On the downside, I didn't possess much in the way of creature comforts. Rummaging about in the icebox produced nothing but pork that didn't survive my stint in the hospital. I'd have to settle for crackers and apple preserves until I could head out to the market.

Living in a pre-modern civilization is not a whole lot of fun. Home is a roof over your head, but not much else. Space is cramped so activity outside of sleep is centered around my living room that has to share it's space with my lifting equipment. While there is magic-generated lighting eliminating the need for torches, and gems can be used as batteries to power small things like my vinyl record player, technology is still way behind the ponies progress on advanced magical manipulation. Amazing as it is to think about, the Equestrians can control the very forces of nature, but they can't produce electricity from steam.

This meant that in the rare instances I was at home I was working out or reading the newspaper. After weeks in the hospital, I was very much in need of the former, so I put on some classical music by the Canterlot Symphony Orchestra and got to work. Not my favorite kind of music admittedly, but it really grows on you. I've actually been to Canterlot to see them perform, and I can tell you the Cellist, Octavia is a real knockout! Well, for an earth pony anyway…

After a quick shower — thank God, the ponies figured out indoor plumbing — I decided to turn in early. My humble bedroom is just as cramped as the rest of my apartment, but lining the walls were posters of famous Pegasi. Rainbow Dash has her own wall of course, she's been the most famous pony on Earth since First Contact when she nearly started an interdimensional war in the pursuit of being awesome. There's group photos of me and various other Mile High enthusiasts from all over the country. Mostly ponies, but a few griffons as well. Of course there's also my wall devoted to the Wonderbolts, including the one that literally got away, Fleetfoot.

I was holding on and she kinda slipped out of my hands; I felt it in the morning.

Mile High Clubbing is actually not that dangerous for land-loving species when practiced responsibly in contemporary fashion with towing lines. It's been practiced for thousands of years by the griffons who obviously didn't need them, and was introduced to ponies only very recently. At least it's only gained some notoriety recently as airborne, inter-species erotica is not your typical dinnertime discussion in most households. When humans came along, measures were put in place to make it safe for flightless species. Quite a few flightless ponies took to the skies as well, I'm reminded by looking at the smiling face of Cherry Berry, an earth pony wearing her trademarked aviator goggles and standing next to her pegasus friend, and her hot air balloon after their first successful flight.

There are still a few die-hards out there who believe you're not living unless you do it bareback, and Fleetfoot was one of those ponies. While most flyers aren't strong enough to support their own weight plus a human, a professional stunt flyer like Fleetfoot can. So she convinced me to take a cloudwalking potion and leap from the canopy on her back while she glided down. To my credit I held up my end and topped off her tank, but I couldn't land the deal, to turn a phrase, and wound up plummeting fifty feet and into a world of pain.

I'm lucky to have survived. Neither my comrades nor my handler will ever let me live it down.

*****

It felt like a mini vacation: a full afternoon of hanging around Ponyville before the big hunt later tonight. My only responsibility was picking up my fox hunter outfit from the appropriately named Carousel Boutique. The shop’s owner was a unicorn mare and occasional G4M client named Rarity, an avid Gentlemen supporter who had graciously offered her place to shower up and change before heading to Roseluck's shop, meaning I could save some of my commission money on getting a room. Instead of the usual delivery by chariot, I made my way through town from the train station as to not draw too much attention to myself; instead of my usual Gentleman power suit and tie, I settled for the tourist look; blue jeans and white tennis shoes with a t-shirt featuring the screaming face of Bronson Pinchot with the back of the shirt proclaiming, "Ask me about time!"

Passing by the only bakery in town, the gingerbread house look-a-like Sugarcube Corner, was enough to remind me how long ago it had been since my last pitiful meal so I stopped in for a bite to eat. Good timing; the lunch-time rush was apparently over as I was the only person or pony in line. Manning the register was a curly haired, pink on pink earth pony mare with big, baby blue eyes. "OooooOOOooooOooo... You're new to town aren'tcha? Whoa, I'm picking up a doozy!" Behind the counter she stomped a hoof twice, blinked once, flicked her right ear twice, and wiggled her right forehoof.

And then she inhaled deeply, as if sampling my scent. I don't like where this is go —

"YOU’RE A GENTLEMEN!!!!!” she shouted at the top of her lungs.

The force of her bellowing nearly blew me back outside as I waved my arms frantically to hopefully convey to her my sincere desire for her to shut the hell up. "Shh! Can you kindly NOT go shouting that about!? I'm trying not to make a scene!" I visibly cringed, whipping my head around to check to see who may have heard the mad pink pony's proclamation, but finding to my great relief I had thankfully dodged the bullet. How did she even know that!?

Seeing me standing there with my teeth clenched and the fearful look in my eyes, she certainly got the point and was none too happy about it. The chipper smile she had been wearing was replaced with an industrial-strength, morale sapping frown that drew all happiness from the room. Even her mane seemed to have deflated. Can pony hair do that?

"I'm...I'm so sorry. It's just that I've never seen one of you in Ponyville before and I wanted to welcome you to our town. Please don't be angry with me," she said miserably.

Her recently deflated mane now hung limp in a single part across the right side of her face, her blue eyes beginning to cloud up. My first reaction should have been to immediately console the mare, and sail the conversation into calmer waters before leaving with doughnut in hand, but my brain seemed to have locked up completely. All I could do was stare into the fathomless blue abyss, and gaze upon the majesty of flowing pink locks over her down-turned ear, as she reached up with one elegant hoof to wipe away a single tear from her lovely visage.

"I...uh...please don't be sad," was all I could manage to get out. Straining to think through the pink haze my brain had descended into, it occurred to me that something wasn't right here.
Halfway through reaching my hand out to run my fingers through her luscious pink mane, it poofed back into place and the smile had returned accompanied by numerous internal alarm bells alerting me to my sudden onset of insanity.

"Oh you're right, I just was being silly!" the pink mare cut in."So what will it be stranger? I've got cookies, I've got cupcakes, I got a fresh batch of Chimi-Cherry-Changas all hot and ready..."

The verbal barrage, spoken in a high-pitched girly squeal, continued unabated for five solid minutes as I tried to answer the burning question of what it all means; and why was I here, and what is this mare's problem, and what is my problem? Finding a foothold in the one-sided conversation, I just asked for one of those Chimi-Cherry things. Or was it Cherry-Chonga? My head hurts!

"That'll be two bits mister; you will not be disappointed! You won't find a better Chimi-Cherry-Changa anywhere in Equestria! Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye!" With that she gestured something with her hoof and poked herself in the eye.

I don't even…

"Thank you miss, ah, what's your name? I'm, uh… Stuntman." I reached my hand out to fist bump her hoof. No point in withholding my call name if she already knows I’m a Gentlemen, right?

"Name's Pinkie Pie," she replied, returning the greeting. "I'll have it right out in a jiffy!" Galloping off at high speed and disappearing through double doors into the kitchen, she left me to sort out what in blazes just happened.

Maybe my weeks long abstinence is causing me to go insane? Nah, I was only crazy part of the time.

Well maybe she's crazy and I'm receiving bits of crazy through telekinesis? Could be, but no way to prove that. Asking her could be problematic. She seems to experience the darkest sadness ever felt by anyone, and I can't let that happen.

Perhaps I'm crazy right now thus rendering this entire internal monologue entirely useless?

"Or... perhaps you just really want to rut me senseless, but you don't want to compromise your secret mission and risk causing a bigscene; and have ponies rioting in the streets, and pelting you with rotten fruit or get banished to the moon by Celestia!?” Pinkie’s face was now right in mine, her huge eyes swallowing up my field of vision.

And with that my heart just stopped. The only explanation my half-melted mind could come up with was that I took a wrong turn and wound up in hell, and this is Pink Satan.

"Oh! I have your food!" She brought it over on a tray attached to a long handle that she carried with her teeth, and set it down on my table while I wasn't looking.

"I don't know how you did that, but thanks," I replied with a lame attempt at a smile that probably came off as cringing.

"Anytime friend! Though I am afraid I'll have to finish out my shift before you can plow my field! The Cakes will be very upset if I let anything burn while I'm off getting tucked in. I'm going to be having a party later though around five p.m. and you are soooooo invited to come!" The grin she was wearing would have been downright heartwarming if I wasn't afraid for my sanity.

"Uh, thanks Pinkie, but… I don't think I can make it. And... and I haven't said anything about rutting! How are you reading my mind like that!?" As I finished my sentence I just knew I was doomed. Her hair deflated once more, but the look of crushing sadness had been replaced with a look of gleeful mischief.

"Just a hunch," she whispered into my ear as I felt a hoof slowly creep up the front of my shirt and over my shoulder. From my seated position she stood level with my face waiting to see if I would offer up any resistance. Confident this resistance would never come, she savored the moment before taking the plunge. Licking her lips she moved forward putting her other hoof over my shoulder and ran her tongue along the tip of my upper lip as I drew her in with my hands already stroking her long, regal neck and mane into a long, slow kiss. I don’t know what it was, either my ongoing shock or the simple fact I’ve always found craziness a little attractive, but I realized at that moment that this mare had me in her thrall and could pretty much do anything with me she wanted. I moaned gently as she pushed past my teeth with her tongue to subdue my own, bringing with it the faint taste of strawberries and cream.

"Pinkie when you're done over there can you help me with the cannolos?" Pinkie withdrew and turned to face the sound of the voice, a plump middle-aged blue-coated pony with a purple mane and tail. She was not amused.

"Yes ma'am!" Pinkie’s hair poofed up again as the matronly earth mare shook her head and walked back into the kitchen muttering under her breath. "Sorry Stuntman, but duty calls. Good luck on your date, and happy hunting!" She gave me a parting kiss before trotting up to the double doors behind the counter. , "I'll get you next time buster!" she promised with a flag of her tail and an almost-evil grin over her shoulder, and I knew at that moment beyond any shadow of a doubt that she would.

I gave her a dazed smile and a stiff salute, one echoed by the bulge in my pants. By some combination of insanity and immaculately executed game I was certain she could take anyone, person or pony, down. Five Stars would be proud. Picking up the bag containing my pastries I turned and made my exit, wondering if I ever dared come back again…

Author's Note

I bet the "ask me about time" joke is funny only to me, but there you go.

I just wrote an erotic scene involving Pinkie Pie.

I need a moment to go ponder the nature of the universe and what it all means...