As Ye Sew, So Shall Ye Rip

As Ye Sew So Shall Ye Rip

A Coco Pommel in the Vogonverse Tale

Awkward First Dates

(Las Vegas Nevada - The MGM Grand - Miles’s POV)

I don’t think that I was ever so glad to see a couple of weeks come and go. I looked at the Casino before me, and part of me wondered if she was looking forward to this as much as I was. We’d talked, a little, but this was taking a step in a direction that I wasn’t sure I’d ever take. Knowing Mickey like I do I think that he might have lost a bet on if I’d ever really consider dating or not.

Like I told him before I didn’t have any intention of dating a girl that wanted to go out with the champ. I heard the old stories about the girls who got hooked up with a world champ only for her to head out when he retired, got hurt, or ended up losing the belt. I didn’t want that kind of experience. I guess it’s kind of weird. I’m fine with taking a physical beating, but the idea of dealing with an emotional one scared the living hell out of me.

I walked through the doors of the casino, and within seconds the security began doing exactly what I had expected them to do. They didn’t simply swarm me, but instead they began having more security come onto the floor. I could see that anywhere I walked there was no less than two members of the casino’s private police force. That in and of itself meant that I was not only noticed, but I was completely out of luck in trying to get a really private date with Coco.

I walked across the floor, toward the employee’s only area, and stopped. When I had a match here I had been able to access the back areas without a problem. The system had logged me in as a temp employee, but I knew that my thumb print was most likely already pulled from the system. Instead I walked over toward a public console. I pressed my thumb into the grove, waited for a moment, and then watched the system’s Digital Assistant popped up.

“Welcome to AT&T! I’m Sal the Salamander! How may I help you?” the Digital Assistant asked.

“I’d like to contact Coco Pommel. I believe she lives in the MGM Grand,” I said.

The Digital Assistant disappeared for a moment, and then was replaced by a different one. An older woman’s face appeared for a few seconds. Her mouth moved into a smile, and it was one that I had seen a thousand times before.

“Ah, I believe that you are the young gentleman caller for my Mistress. But you do appear to be a strapping young lad,” she said, “Hold a moment, and I shall inform her that you are on the line.”

A few seconds passed and the screen turned black. At first I thought that the line must have disconnected, but then I heard her voice. Like the other times we’d talked in the past couple of weeks she sounded happy. A bit less tired than she had sounded a few times, but certainly happy.

“Miles! I thought that you were coming in on the seven pm train. Not that I am complaining though. I’m afraid that I’ll still be a few minutes,” she said.

“No problem. I don’t mind waiting,” I replied.

“Good, I shall be down as soon as I’m ready,” she said before the line disconnected.

(Coco’s POV - Coco’s Apartment

My breasts... I cupped them, feeling them fill my hands. They were little more than handfuls. I certainly thought that they fit my figure, but then there were other Earth Ponies out there. Rarity's other friend, the one that had been with her in Manehattan, she was certainly well endowed for anypony. I smiled despite that. Miles had shown an interest in me, and more to the point he had waited to meet with me.

I’d read a few romance novels, both back in Manehatten, and here and I had noticed something about both of them. The mare usually started things in both of them, but the mare was the one putting the effort forth in my old romance novels. She would usually be the one pursuing the handsome stallion, fighting the odds, and then winning him over before claiming him as her stallion.

Here it was a little different. The mare was pursued, and the stallion usually had to be the one to prove that he deserved to be with her. I dried, unwrapped my mane, turned on my hair drier to finish it, and thought about what was going to happen. Did I want pursue Miles? Part of me did. I wanted to pursue him, enjoy the chase, and maybe let him enjoy chasing me as well. Tonight would be the start, the real start, and if it went well enough we could see if this was something we really wanted together.

I walked to the closet and looked inside. I had my work suits, and while they looked professional none of them were really what I wanted to wear. I wanted something, something comfortable, pretty, and something that looked good on me. My eyes landed on the dress. It had been something I created back in Manehattan. Rarity had visited me, seeing the dress, and she admitted that on anypony else it might look a little too vanilla, but she thought that it accented my beauty. I pulled the dress out, opting for a pair of lacy, black, hipster panties to go with them, and deciding against a bra. The straps of the dress simply didn’t lend itself to one anyway.

I checked my hair, finding it mostly dry, and I began to get dressed. A quick coat of blue hoof polish, the same shade nail polish, and a rose. I had several roses, lovely fragrant flowers, that had been delivered to me earlier in the day. An old tradition from earlier days said that a mare would present her intended stallion with a flower, her flower, to show that she would like to be with him. I was a long ways from Equus, if there was even an Equus left, but I had every intention of keeping this tradition. I picked up the shortened stem rose, placed it behind my ear, and looked at the mirror.

“Now, just to go down stairs and meet with him,” I thought.

(Miles POV- MGM Grand Lobby, Near the Elevators)

"Miles," she purred.

Her walk was something that I’m sure a poet or a song writer could do some real justice to, but I’m not either of those things. All I could really say was her walk was a sultry display of innocence and promise. The promise of unbridled passions, the promise of first discoveries, the honest sway of womanly charm but the hesitant stumble of a teenage girl. She revealed everything in by revealing nothing, a professional poker player with a royal flush on the River. Her grace showed she could attract the sort of attention that most women spent their lives building, but we're never born with. She was a sensual being wreathed in naiveté; a Desert rose that had yet to bloom.

The two of us began to walk, deeper into the casino itself until we came across a small restaurant. I’d fought in enough matches in Las Vegas to know that the casinos had everything and anything that a person could ever need. There was restaurants, floor shows, even clothing stores, and novelty shops all located within the building. Each one of them set up so that the customers could see the action on the floor, get a buzz from the feeling of those playing at the tables and machines, and after their show, meal, or purchase their new suit.

We passed a few places that I’d eaten at, granted briefly, and instead I saw several of the more upscale places.

“Any suggestions?” I asked.

She looked at the restaurants in front of us, five or six of them stood out, and then her ears pointed forward. I watched as her nose twitched, and she gripped my hand a bit tighter.

“That one smells delightful,” she replied.

I looked at it. “CRUSH, A fantastic experience in true American Fine Dining,” I read as I walked toward it.

We walked toward the greeter, who seemed unimpressed, for a moment, until she looked back at me. Her eyes widened, and I realized that most likely I was dealing with another fan. Silently I wanted to turn and walk away. I’ve got nothing against my fans, in truth I’m indebted to them. They’re great, all of them, but there are times that I want to eat like any other person.

“Oh My God… You’re… You’re… You’re Miles Malone right?” she said barely above a whisper.

“I am. We’d like to get a table…” I started before she held her hand up, grabbed the small phone attached to the wall next to her, and lifted it up off of the cradle.

“We’ve got a Code Tyler, yeah, a Code Steven Tyler. Right, he wants a table,” she was quiet for a moment before she looked at me, “Um, do you… do you want a seat near a window or the kitchen, because we can do either.”

I looked at Coco who was thinking the same thing. The windows would simply be looking in at the casino, or at a viewscreen that was designed to look like it was the outside.

“Near the Kitchen sound good?” I asked.

Coco nodded, and I nodded to the greeter.

“Kitchen table, for two, Okay I’ll lead him there,” she said before she hung up, “Please, follow me.”

The poor girl looked nervous, really nervous, as she led us to our table. Once there she pulled our chairs out for us, placed two menus, both looking like something I had seen once in Paris when I had first won my world heavyweight title, and then she informed us that a waiter would be over in just a few minutes to take our orders. Coco watched her leave before she looked at me and cocked an eyebrow.

“So, is that normal for you?” she asked.

Normal, the fact that people fell all over themselves to make me happy was something that I was a bit more than just used to. I didn’t like it. That wasn’t how I was raised, or trained, no I was raised to be self reliant, and having people try to do everything, including chew in some places, just felt wrong.

“It is, but it doesn’t mean that I like it,” I replied.

She looked at me with more than a little confusion.

“I like to be able to go places, do things, and enjoy myself without having everyone act like I’m something special. I’m just a guy that happens to be good at what I do. That’s it. I won’t lie, the money is good, really good, but the fame is still something that I’m getting used to,” I shook my head, “I don’t think that I ever will be used to it.”

“Maybe that’s not a bad thing,” she said with a gentle smile gracing her lips, “It might be just the thing that keeps you grounded.”

It felt good to hear someone not be surprised that I didn’t enjoy the attention that came with the fame. Several folks, even Mickey on occasion, had told me that it wasn’t right that I wasn’t enjoying the perks of being the champ. I wasn’t really sure if I wanted to enjoy those perks. I wasn’t into the idea of having one night stands, and I didn’t like the idea of being so well liked just because I could throw a punch and take a hit.

“Kid, listen to me for a second will ya? There’s three kinds of boxers in the world. The hungry guy who’s going to go far, the pampered guy who’s already there, and then there’s the guy who loves the sport, who’s hungry, and who’s willing to tell fame and fortune to go take a flying leap. Out of the three the last one is the one who ends up staying on top the longest. Because above everything else he knows that this sport is about facing the challenge, being ready for it, and putting everything he’s got on the line,” the memory of what Jared had told me came to my mind.

I wanted to keep being the third kind of boxer. The old man had taught me everything he knew, and I agreed with him on the fact that letting the fame go to my head was a horrible idea. I couldn’t let that happen to myself, and I didn’t want to be with anyone who would be fine with me letting that happen. I looked back at Coco, returned her smile, and looked at the menu.

“I guess we should take a look and see if there’s anything that we’d like to try,” I said.

I chanced taking a glance at her to see that she had her menu open. Looking back at my own I could see the staggering amount of money CRUSH wanted for their food. It wasn’t like they were asking the world, but the prices seemed to indicate that it wasn’t far off from it. I knew that I needed to eat plenty of protein, but being that I was on a date with Coco, and I wanted to make a good impression. My eyes lingered on the steak for a moment, and then they drifted down to the vegetarian plates.

It would be healthier, and I thought that maybe it would look a little more pleasing to my date. I looked up from the menu to see a young woman approaching the table. She gave us both a slight bow, which was accented by the dark gray slacks, white shirt, and red scarf she was wearing. She pulled out a tablet, smiled at both of us, and waited for just a moment before starting what I knew had to be a scripted response.

“Welcome to Crush, I’m Yvoette, and I would absolutely love to take your order. May I take your drink order?” she asked.

“I would love an ice sweet tea,” Coco said.

“I’d like the same, please,” I replied.

The girl nodded, “I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

She walked away and I could see Coco’s eyes drifting toward me. When she realized that I knew the area around her became incredibly interesting. I grinned, and then I saw her ears straighten. A few moments later I heard the whispers as well. Being the world champion you get used to the whispers. The housewives and teenage girls whispering fantasies about what they’d love to do to you. The questions about who you were dating, what perverse pleasures you took outside of the ring, and then the questions about if you were intelligent or not.

I could hear it now. The thirty something woman sitting behind me, she sounded cultured, well educated, and deprived.

“Mmmm… Such a muscular body, so fit, so strong, and a mind like a simple steel trap I bet. Yes, you’d be easy wouldn’t you? I could control you, have you beg me for release, and then I’d deny you. Because even with all of those muscles, with all of that fame, and with all of that handsome charm you’re still beneath me,” she whispered to herself.

I know she didn’t plan on me hearing her. She was at least two tables over from us, but the restaurant wasn’t overly crowded. Her voice, soft as it might be, carried. Coco’s cheerful expression turned to one of surprise, then anger. She looked at me, and I don’t know what I looked like, but her anger turned into sympathy.

Her hand reached out, touching my own once more. I felt the gentle squeeze that right now was so much appreciated.

“Is it always like this?” she asked.

“Sometimes. There are times when the restaurants are full, the conversations drown out those kinds of whispers. I know that they’re still saying them, but at those times I don’t have to listen to them,” I replied.

A few moments later the waitress returned with our drinks, and she pulled the tablet out again, “Are you ready to order?”

Coco’s glance asked the question that didn’t fall off her lips. With that one look she was asking if I wanted to leave.

“I believe we are,” I replied.

She nodded, seeing that I wasn’t going to let a single woman’s perverted desires ruin what could be a wonderful night for the both of us. We both ended up ordering the organic vegetable medley. I was surprised that Coco ordered it. I had been willing to get her anything on the menu, even the most expensive dish would have been fine, but the organic vegetable medley was the least expensive item.

The waitress left, once more, and we were once again left to ourselves. The woman who had been whispering must have overheard our conversation because she had quietly, and shamefully, gotten up and left. I felt thankful that she was gone, and honestly I didn’t feel a bit bad that she was ashamed. The conversation, and the quiet, flowed naturally between us. An old movie, Pulp Fiction, had a line in it that seemed to fit. ‘That’s when you know you’ve found somebody special. When you can shut the fuck up for a minute and comfortably enjoy the silence.’ I could do that with Coco. I could shut up about the normal small talk and just enjoy being with her. I felt at ease, a peace, and perfectly content when I was with her. It made me feel like I belonged somewhere else other than inside of the ring. She giggled, something that in and of itself was musical all on its own, and I couldn’t help but want to know what the wonderful thing was that made her feel so delighted.

“What?” I asked.

“Oh, just Cheri,” she replied.

“Cheri?” I asked.

“My friend that you walked in on,” she replied.

The vision of the fox girl popped into my head.

“Oh… Sorry about that again,” I replied.

She waved it off, and tittered again, “It’s fine, but what’s funny is that Cheri was trying to convince me that you were going to be nothing but a brute. She said that she didn’t think that you’d know what a gentlestallion was, let alone act like one.”

I smiled and gave a slight bow while I was sitting.

“I’m very glad to have proven her wrong,” I replied.

We looked up to see the waitress returning. She sat both dishes down for us, glancing at me a moment longer than was professional, and left. The delicious smell of the food drifted up to us, and I was certainly ready to enjoy this meal with the beautiful girl in front of me. I was until we both heard them.

“Oh My GOD! IT’S HIM!” the cry came from the front of the restaurant.

She came into the restaurant, heading for us, getting near our table, and I could where this was going. She was obviously from money, a teenager with no spending limit, let loose in a city where every vice was a mere purchase away. Her retro vinyl skirt, mini tank top, teased hair, and artificial nails screamed someone who was addicted to the superficial ideal of the 1980’s. Fans of films from that era, especially the more wealthy ones, would go out of their way to dress like the characters. I’d seen several teenage boys dressed like Marty McFly at some of the fights. She was like them.

“Oh wow… The world champ, that is like the coolest thing I’ve ever seen,” she said as she tried to scoot Coco out of her chair.

“Ms, look, I’m glad that you’re a fan, I am, but I’m currently on a date,” I said.

Was it blunt? Sure, I knew it was, but I wanted her to understand that she was interrupting something.

“Oh… Oh… I’m sorry. A date,” she turned toward Coco, “I’ll give you five thousand credits to get up, leave, and go back to your hovel.”

Oh, how I wish I could describe how Coco responded to that. The young miss wore an ingratiating smile, thinking her bribe would engender the earth pony mare to mozy on out. That girl was in a bit of a surprise when Coc spoke next. I laughed so hard, I had sweet tea come out of my nose…

“Five thousand?” Coco said, “Honey, I make five grand in ten minutes when I’m working. And just who do you think you are, Sapphire Shores? What gives you the right to disturb a couple having a fine meal and even finer conversation? Were you raised by timber wolves or something? Did Mother and Father keep you chained up in the backyard? I know what you’re doing, Little Missy, and I don’t care for it, one bit. So take your money, your poor fashion sense, your poor judgement, your lousy attitude, and WALK AWAY.”

“Ack,” the teenager without a spending limit spat, “do- do you even know who I am?!”

Coco shot back, “Somepony who’s roots are showing?”

“Pfft, as if!” the teenager spouts, “I’m Versailles Hilton, Granddaughter of Paris Hilton? Web celebrity extraordinaire? I’m really famous.”

“Is that so?” Coco riffs, “for what?”

To that, Ms. Hillton is speechless.

“Listen, Miss Holton, I couldn’t care one bit who you are,” Coco continues, “you are being rude, obnoxious, and I’m pretty sure this is the VIP table here. Plus, I know the owners of the casino; on my say so, you can and will be thrown out of here, FOR LIFE. So, if you don’t mind, my date and I, would really like to get back to our dining experience.”

Jared once told me that the only worse than making a woman is getting on the bad side of a black Irishman. Looking at the scene I just witnessed, I know for sure that you do not want to cross swords with an Earth pony mare. They will make you pay for it. (I could have sworn I was seeing some black Irish anger rising in Coco’s countenance.)

Aghast, Ms. Hilton left our table. I was hoping we could at least relax a little after that intrusion, but it was not to be. Being in the public spotlight has often gotten me some hangerson. And the individual striding past Ms. Hilton on her way out is just one of those. I honestly could have dealt without having seen North West saunter up to me this evening.

“Miles, baby, so good to see you, bro!” Mr. West says, “look, I know it’s been a while, but have I got a deal for you today! You would not believe how good a deal this is-”

“North, this isn't a good time,” but Mr. West cuts me across, “Miles, bro, you have to hear this! So, I was in contact with my dad’s old production company. They have this backlog of old samples that have been DYING to be repurposed; my latest album is running into a wall but with these samples I could really break out into the industry, see? Here’s where you come in: I know you like music, well duh, everybody who is anybody does, but I was thinking you could come in, have a recording session or two, write and endorsement for the album, and I could cut you on ten percent of the profits! So, whatcha say, huh bro? You in?”

“Mr. West,” I groan, “you’re, what, in your fifties, now? You haven't had a hit record since you started in the music business. And just how much of your mother’s inheritance have you burned through by now, huh? Half, more than half? Your father was at least halfway talented, but you did not inherit any of that. So, if you don’t mind, this is a really big deal I’m having here-”

“Dude, I’d hate to interrupt you,” West starts, “but this is more important than anything you got going- Hey, wait a minute.”

North West is looking at Coco and the expression on his face is telling more than I would like to know.

“Holy shit, son,” West exclaims, “you got yerself a pony girl?! Damn, dude, I knew you were picky, I mean shit, dawg, if you didn’t like that little filly, Becky, that I practically threw at you that one time in Reno, then I knew somethin’ was up. I kinda thought you was gay, but now? Shit, son, you like ‘em with hooves and tails and shit. How much did she set ya back, man?”

“I’m sorry, but do I look like the common whorse here?” Coco asked.

“Mr. West,” I started, “your oblivious and callous nature has made you blind to what is going on here. Ms. Pommel and I are having a date tonight, a date that has been disrupted not once, but twice. I think it’s high time you leave”

“Dawg, come on, don’t do this to me,” North started, “I was jus’ playin’-”

“I’m not,” I growl, “get gone. I don’t care if you go home and get wasted or drive all night and end up in Hollywood, but I want you leave me, and my date, ALONE.”

North looked at us, and I could tell that he decided that he had stepped where he shouldn’t have. With more tact and grace than I thought it was possible for him to have he excused himself, apologized, and walked away from our table. The table was quiet, but it was comfortable, enjoyable, and certainly better than the interruptions that we had been subjected to. Once more I was ready to enjoy our meal, enjoy the company of my date, and I believed that the universe had decided to cut both of a break. Or I did until I heard her again.

The same voice from Versailles Hilton, and this time it didn’t sound like she was being overly friendly. I took a look in the direction of the spoiled heiress, and who I saw standing beside her surprised me. Matthew McGerk, former World Heavyweight Champion, who after his defeat was drummed out of the WBA because of the illegal performance boosters he was using. McGerk had a mean streak a mile long, and it came from the mixture of testosterone enhancement steroids that he injected.

I saw his square jaw, the same jaw I had broken a few years ago, and I noticed that he had put on at least fifty pounds of muscle. My hopes of this being a quiet evening were certainly disappearing quicker than a stack of free immersion rigs. They walked to the table behind us, and I saw the glare from Matthew.

“Malone,” he said with his gravelly voice.

“McGerk,” I replied.

His chair slammed hard into mine, making me bump hard into the table.

“Ooops, seems like I don’t know my own strength. You know… My boss said that you’ve upset his daughter,” he replied.

“I just told her that I’m not interested,” I replied.

“But you’re fine with fuckin’ an expensive toy? Always knew you were a freak of nature,” he said.

I felt my blood boiling. I could handle insults thrown at me, but folks that didn’t deserve it… That’s where I drew the line. Coco didn’t deserve the insults McGerk was handing out. I knew his fighting style, or I did, I knew that he favored the left. He tried to keep from being hit on the left side because he’d gotten his eye socket shattered in one of his earliest fights. It had caused his left eye to be constricted in movement, something that should have gotten him removed from the WBA well before he was.

I knew that he liked throwing haymakers, overly showy punches that hurt like a bitch, but telegraphed well before the punch could land, and I knew that he had no problem hitting a woman. I didn’t want Coco to get drawn into this.

“She’s not a toy,” I replied, perhaps a little too cooly, “She’s an intelligent woman who’s enjoying a date with me. Your boss’ daughter is a spoiled little rich girl that needs to understand that she can’t always get everything she wants.”

The sound of the chair scraping caught my attention and I ducked my head. I was just fast enough to miss the wine bottle he had swung at me. The bottle flew out of his hand, hit the wall, and shattered. I jumped up, not wanting to do this, but determined to keep it from getting worse.

“Mat, for once in your Godforsaken life think about this. If we get into a fight right now, right here, there’s going to be cops, you will go to jail, and for what? All you would have done is entertained a spoiled little girl that has no concept of decency,” I said.

“Nice words, too bad I don’t care,” he replied.

Like our fight a few years ago he telegraphed the punch, and I moved out of the way. I didn’t want to hurt him, and I certainly didn’t want it to get worse.

“Dancing around like a queer again?! Huh?! Fuckin’ joke! That’s what you are! A fuckin’ joke!” he yelled.

I knew what was coming. I was in close quarters, the corner of the ring, and I was going to have to take a beating in order to keep it from moving out. The first punch hit my side, I blocked it, but I still felt it. A kidney punch, well against the rules, the next one was a graze on my shoulder, I shot back, catching him in the stomach, causing him to stumble for a moment, and I looked up. I could see security coming in, and I stepped back as they tasered him. He fell, angry, upset, and unable to move thanks to the several thousand volts flowing through him. They got up, and I looked back at the food on the table. My plate had ended in the floor, my sweet tea joining it, and somewhere in the mess Versailles Hilton had left once more.

“You want to get out of here?” I asked.

She nodded, and we got what was left of our dinner to go. Starting to head out I thought about what there was to do in and around Las Vegas. In truth, the desert, especially at night, was beautiful, and a short drive out into it wouldn’t hurt a thing. We stopped at a car rental, I quickly rented a diesel truck, much like my own back home, and we walked out to it. Crawling into the much newer than my own truck we began our drive.

It was less than ten minutes out of town when we both found exactly what we had hoped to find. Quiet, true, peaceful, and perfect quiet was waiting for us. The restaurant was kind enough to pack the meal in a picnic style and Coco wasted no time setting it up. I helped her into the bed the of the truck where we looked at the night sky, enjoyed the now cold vegetable medley.

(Back of the Truck - Ten minutes outside of Las Vegas - Coco’s Point of View)

I’d always heard that when you found your special somepony there was a spark. Something that made you realize that they were the one just for you, or at least you and your herd, if you did that sort of thing. I felt that with him. I wanted to take it slow, not jump into anything physical, but I did feel the connection with him. I slowly griped the flower, took it into my hands, and I looked at him.

“Miles, I… I want to give this to you. For us Equestrians, this is a symbol that we want to pursue a relationship. We offer the stallion we’re interested in a flower, and we hope that he accepts,” I said.

He carefully took it, and I watched as he placed it in a buttonhole over his chest, “I don’t think that there’s a reason why I wouldn’t accept it.”

We leaned together and I felt his lips on my own. His hands, strong in their own right, pulled me against him, and I found myself diving deeper into a kiss than I thought that I would. His profession was brutal, and it demanded that he himself be a brute, but he wasn’t one here. Here he was a gentle and sweet soul. Our first kiss, a wonderful experience, and one that I dearly hoped would repeat soon.

It did, and I learned that he was a fantastic kisser. Slowly our kissing slowed, and instead I found myself lying on my back, next to him, while we looked into the night sky. The sight of the stars, the moon, and the occasional whistle of the wind were our companions. I felt the warmth of his body as he held me, the way his body fit perfectly with my own as my back pressed against him. Not once did he attempt to push me into doing anything I didn’t want to, and in truth, his being the gentlestallion he was being was making me deeply consider wanting to do everything with him.