Life's Left Hook

That's right. I suppose you'd want that right about now?"

"Please. I'll return the favor, if you want me to."

"I might actually take you up on that offer," she says, getting off of you and standing up.

You stand up as well.

'As she stretches, she gestures to the bedroom.

"Go to the bedroom, strip, and get ready. I'm going to see if I have any oil to lather on you. I'll be there in a minute."

"Sure thing."

With that, you make your way into the bedroom.

Your back is actually pretty sore, and after dealing with Scootaloo, the orchestra this afternoon, and the meeting tonight, you need a break.

You're so glad Cadance is more than happy to help.

Once you reach the bed, it doesn't take you long to strip.

You fold your dress clothes in an almost neat fashion and lazily set them down on top of a counter.

After that, you jump up and plop down onto the bed.

It squeaks.

That is very bad news, but it's not going to stop you.

Hopefully the neighbors won't complain.

As you lie down, you stretch, and let out your inner pornstar moan as you do.

Damn, you really need this massage.

Soon  after, you hear the door swing open.

In steps Cadance, carrying several bottles of lotions, oils, and stuff you'd typically find on the bathroom counter when a mare is in the house.

No surprise.

But you can smell that shit from here.

And it smells great.

A bit fruity for your tastes, but still great.

"Okay, Anon, roll onto your belly," she says, popping the cap off of one of the bottles.

You comply, resting your forehead on one of your arms.

After a few minutes of patient waiting, the lights go off.

But there's still a dim orange light.

Soon, a faint smell of vanilla and some light smoke hits your nose.

Are those scented candles?"

You hear the flickering of some faint magic.

She must be lighting them.

You turn your head to see a few lit candles, scattered about the room.

Cadance is rubbing her hooves together and mixing some sorts of oils.

"Just a moment, Anonymous," she says, concentrating on whatever concoction she's brewing, "I'll be there in a moment. Get comfortable."

With that, you roll your head to face down again.

"That stuff smells nice."

"It was either this or lavender. I felt like vanilla," she says, finally finishing up whatever it was she was doing.

"And why's that?"

You feel the bed sink as she sits on the edge.

"Lavender is supposed to help with a deep and faster coming sleep."

"Don't we want that?"

"Not until we're done, Anonymous."

She shuffles around, straddling your hips.

"Okay, I'm going to start with your back and shoulders and work on your arms, since those are probably the worst. How do your arms and legs feel?"

You think a moment, and wiggle your toes as you wait.

"I haven't done much. My arms are fine. My thighs could use some work, though."

"I can help with that."

You feel a very cold, wet liquid press against your shoulder, at the base of your neck.

The cold, however, is quickly replaced by the warmth of Cadance's soft hoof.

Another hoof touches down on the opposite side.

Not much pressure is applied, and for a moment, you wonder what she's waiting for.

But then, she glides her oiled hooves down across your shoulder and down your back.

It's a bit cold to the touch at first, but soon, you can feel a powerful warmth return.

Her hooves slide up and down lightly, almost tickling your back as they do.

You let out a deep breath and relax into the mattress.

"This stuff works well. Trust me. Tomorrow morning, you'll be feeling much better."

Once she's done coating you in her oil, she reaches up, and you can feel her push on the base of your neck.

There's a twinge of pain, at first, but after she kneads at the knot in your neck, that pain vanishes.

"...Ouch."

"What?"

"Anon, do you crack your neck?"

"Sometimes."

"This is awful. It feels like I'm rubbing a rock under your skin."

"It's been a while since I've stretched or had anything done."

"Remind me about this whenever you feel stiff," she says, starting to work up your neck.

"You're the one that gets me stiff half the time."

"At least I can take care of the problem."

She works her way up your neck to the base of your skull.

"That you do."

There's a brief pause, and she starts slowly moving back down your neck.

"Anon, can I talk to you about something?"

"Yeah? What's up?" you mumble, trying your best to not sound stupid as your neck is squeezed.

"It's about that little filly. Scootaloo."

Great.

"What about her?"

Cadance lets out a short sigh, moving over to work your shoulders.

"Are you sure she should come with us? I'm not sure it's the best idea."

You try to contain a sigh of your own, and respond.

"Well, to be honest, it's probably a terrible idea. But I really don't see another option."

"Anon, I'm not sure we'll be able to handle a filly. We have enough drama on our hands with Trixie and Octavia, those two, and you had a taste of politics today, so..."

She moves down to your spine, pressing the edges of her hooves into your back.

"Yeah, I know. We'll have a lot on our plate. But I can handle Scootaloo," you say reassuringly.

After a beat, you hear what you knew this was about.

"You know she's going to get in the way. Of us."

"Of course she is. We just need to deal with it," you state, trying to sound firm and assertive.

"Just deal with it? Why?" Cadance pleads, seeming more sad than irritated. "She just swooped in here all of the sudden, and now a filly I've never met takes priority?"

It's clear Cadance isn't trying to sound imposing or rude at all.

She really cares.

"I get that she's in a tough spot, and—"

"She's an orphan, Cadance."

She lets out a light breath.

"Yes, I know. Can't we just... Leave her at the orphanage in Cloudsdale?" she says, knowing full well how thin the ice is that she's walking on.

"I'm going to go out on a limb and assume that she ran away from that place. And, if she ran away, she'd have a good reason. Trust me. Scootaloo has a hard head and a strong will. She wouldn't have ran away because the food stunk, or something like that."

Cadance hesitates for a moment, and her voice weakens even further.

"There's gotta be some place she can go, besides with us. It's just going to be too much."

You shake your head.

"Yeah, the only other place she can go is the streets. I won't let that happen again, because she means too much to me. She was one of my first friends in Ponyville, and probably the single most curious soul I've ever met. The first day I met her, she found a pair of my pants outside, and came to my front door wearing them on her head."

Cadance giggles a little, and moves even further down your back.

"And with all of her crusading, and her scooter, and her... Everything, really. I'm not just going to pass the buck. I couldn't."

Cadance nods, moving down to your tailbone with her hooves.

"I understand. Love is a powerful thing."

You take a double-take.

"Wait, love?"

"Yes, love. You love Scootaloo. I can see it."

You give her an odd look, raising a brow.

"Okay, Cadance, I'm not—"

Cadance waves a hoof in front of your face, cutting you off.

"No, not that kind of love, Anon. There are four different kinds of love, romance, friendship, family, and unconditional love. This is a love of a friend. And, with everything you've done, it's probably a little more. And that's a very, very good thing. That's something to be thankful for."

She stops massaging your back, and she takes a minute to collect herself.

"And now I feel like an idiot for trying to take that away."

After another short pause, she goes back to massaging your back.

You feel her hooves roll across your back, wringing your muscles of any tension you have.

She's silent.

You know you have to say something, but you don't know what.

"Cadance?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you gonna let her stay?"

"Of course I am," she says reassuringly, "but I just don't know if it'll be easy to handle her. She's so energetic."

You can't help but laugh a little at that last bit.

"You haven't seen half of her, yet."

"I've seen plenty."

She makes her way between your shoulderblades, slowly and carefully rubbing you down.

You let out a sigh of relief.

"I'll ask Octavia to help. I'm sure she'd love to."

"Are you sure?" she asks, tilting her head. "Trixie has something against Scootaloo."

"Yeah, well, Trixie's Trixie," you grumble. "It was probably something stupid involving Snips, Snails, Trixie, and her."

"Who?"

"They're two little annoying kids in Scootaloo's class. They were Trixie's laboring slaves at one point. No joke."

Cadance takes her hooves off of your back, and reaches to pull back your right arm.

"That sounds very, very bad, and very illegal."

"It was willing, so it probably isn't. But it was pretty messed up."

"It sounds like it," she says, rolling her hooves across your tricep.

"But, I'll find out later. You said Octavia would help?"

You let out a huff.

"Come on, Cadance. You know Octavia. You should know that she'd never say no to something like this. She's too sweet."

"I don't know her as well as you do, Anonymous. But, I think I can see what you're talking about."

She moves over to the other side of your arm, pinching your bicep.

"She's just a real softie. She always cares about others, and she's sweet."

"You two are alike, in that regard."

You smile, and you can feel your heart swell.

Cadance grabs your forearm and goes back to work.

"Thank you. But, you're right. We're a lot a like. We both read, we both would rather be at small things instead of parties, we're both generally very quiet..."

"You both have respect, too," she says, moving up to rub your wrists.

"I can't emphasize that enough."

"Huh? Whadaya mean?"

"You both respect each other," she says, moving on to grab your hand.

After a short confused pause and a quizzical look, she tries her best to massage your hand and fingers.

She starts by kneading your palm.

"Respect is important. It's one of the reasons why arranged marriages were so popular back in the day."

After a moment of consideration, she moves in to roll your fingers between her hooves.

"With arranged marriages, they were raised and taught to respect each other. They just had to learn to love."

Gingerly, she sets your arm down by your side, and moves to your other, starting with your tricep.

"Nowadays, people meet each other, and they know they love each other. Learning respect, however, is much more difficult to do, unless the parents were great at raising their foals. It's why divorce rates are higher," she says, positioning herself.

Her still oiled hooves stroke the back of your arm.

You can already feel how much better your back and right arm are.

Now you really need to return the favor.