Lust

The sun is nearing the edge of the horizon, and it is lighting the world with a moderate orange glow. The birds are silent, the breeze nearly so, but the bustle of ponies talking and eating behind me is somewhat loud. I elected to come a little earlier than our agreed-upon time. Yes, being "fashionably late" is something that I do at times, but only for large social gatherings, not for dates with a very special somepony.

I watch the road leading to the restaurant. Fluttershy should be turning the corner soon. She's never been late for an appointment before, and I don't expect her to start now. I check my wardrobe in the meantime, ensuring everything is ready for Fluttershy's impending arrival.

Given that we've known each other for a long time, she's somewhat inured to what I am capable of making, so it would take something especially unique to impress her. I had to be quite adventurous with this design, and I anguished over its details for weeks, but I think I now have something to my—and her—liking. I don't just want her applauding politely at my wardrobe tonight, as she does with everything I make; I want to stun her speechless.

Eventually, finally, Fluttershy appears from behind the house on the corner, exactly on time. Her eyes are fixed on the restaurant behind me, a look of slight apprehension on her face. Her eyes flick to and from the ponies eating there, but they haven’t landed on me . . . yet.

"Good evening, sweetheart," I say quietly.

Fluttershy turns her eyes to me for the first time. She gasps and staggers back a few steps, eyes wide. I chuckle into a hoof and stalk a little closer to her. When I'm mere feet away from Fluttershy, I put on an amused smile and walk in a circle around her, slowly. All the while, the weight of her eyes never leaves my body.

I can't really blame her, now can I? I made this dress specifically to draw her attention, after all. Though I don't quite understand mare-to-mare attraction, I have no misgivings about dressing up for another mare's benefit if it pleases her. And judging by Fluttershy's open mouth and unblinking gaze, I think it pleases her very much.

The dress itself is rather tight-fitting and form-hugging, and it shows off the assets I'm not afraid to acknowledge that I have. Every shape, from shoulders to haunches, is well-defined and cuts through the dress. Lace accents hang off my sides, occasionally fluttering in the soft breeze. On top of the dress, I wear a light and lacy pink saddle. A pair of low-hanging diamond earrings scintillate in the light as I trod around Fluttershy. I wear golden slippers so my hooves aren't dirtied by the grime on the ground.

Though I left my tail and forelock curled, I let down my mane, revealing its considerable natural length. Few ponies know I have the means to maintain hock-length hair, but I'm showing it now. My mane drapes down from behind my neck to below my chest, curling just slightly at the ends across my midline so that it doesn't drag on the ground. I've even weaved a few dahlias into it.

To augment the outfit, I added one more—rather avant garde—accessory to it. On my face is a custom-fitted pink lace bitless bridle attached to a pair of braided show-reins. It's very light and doesn't detriment my ability to eat or speak, though. Bridles are more of a niche accessory now, like tiaras, but they can still be quite alluring to those who like those things. And I think Fluttershy is one of those ponies, given that she hasn't stopped staring at me for five minutes now.

I have no doubt that my dress will attract some romantic attention from stallions and perhaps even other mares. But should any of them ask for my attention, I shall direct them to the final piece of my outfit that shows that I am no longer "on the market," so to speak, and that my heart belongs to one and one alone: The pendant that hangs about my neck.

I stop in front of Fluttershy again and step closer to her. She gasps sharply as I put a gold-clad hoof on her cheek and direct her face to mine. The sound of her shaky breaths, swishing tail, and thumping heart all tell me that she is rather hot and bothered right now. "This is our first real romantic date together, sweetheart, so I wanted to come up with something to impress you tonight," I say quietly. I put down my hoof and put my muzzle directly against Fluttershy's ear, letting the lace of the bridle brush against her face. "Are you impressed?" I whisper.

"Y-y-yes . . ." Fluttershy squeaks out. Her eyes are still wide and unblinking. "Y-you're so pretty, Rarity. So pretty, so gorgeous, so . . . so . . ." Her last word comes out in a breathy whisper: "S-sexy."

I smile. "I'm glad you think so. But have a look at yourself, sweetheart. You are quite beautiful as well." I say this with no irony or sycophantic attempt to please. I am a fashionista who has studied beauty nearly all her life, and I am certain that Fluttershy would place in the upper echelons of any beauty contest in Equestria with the dress she is wearing now.

Her dress is simpler than mine is, but no less elegant. It seems to be made of a blue sheer silk with white accents that's incredibly thin and partially translucent. I've worked with silk many times before, but never one of this caliber. It winds around her chest and wings like a Neighponese kimono. Behind her is a long, floating train made of that same ethereal silk, though it never even touches the ground. Rather, it seems to float almost magically in the soft breeze not unlike Princess Celestia's own mane.

On her hooves is a quartet of elegant silver shoes, and adorning the front of each one is a small aquamarine. The iridescent gems shimmer and seem to reflect the color in Fluttershy's liquid blue eyes. But of the two, there is one I'm much more likely to get lost in.

On her head is a laurel wreath: not the average accoutrement that one would add to complement their ensemble, but Fluttershy wears it well. The vegetation on her head is very real, and the weave is so intricate that it looks like the laurels had grown naturally to fit her crown. Only a master of nature—like Fluttershy herself—could have made it.

Weaved into the wreath is a pair of long albatross feathers, curled and blued at the ends. They float and play whenever a breeze goes by, and they twist and bow every time Fluttershy moves. The combination of her floating train and fluttering feathers means that with even the near-imperceptible breeze passing by, Fluttershy appears to be in constant motion.

Her wardrobe is undeniably beautiful, but the most beautiful part of her that I see is sitting on her breast. Fluttershy may be a lovely little vixen, but the marquise diamond pendant on her breast shows me that she is my lovely little vixen.

I playfully bat at her pendant and say, "A beautiful specimen you are. Absolutely wonderful. You're all mine." I walk up to her slowly and move my lips closer to hers, cueing my next action to Fluttershy. "And I'm all yours," I finish in a whisper. We join in a gentle but passionate kiss and hold it for a long time. I can't imagine how jealous a stallion would be if he saw us now: two breathtaking mares taking each other's breath away.

We separate slowly. A dreamy smile is on Fluttershy's face, and her eyes are still dazed. Whether it's because of the kiss we shared or my wardrobe, I don't know. But Fluttershy's happiness is my own, and I am quite happy that she is enjoying herself right now. And the date proper hasn't even started yet.

"Come," I say, guiding her with a hoof to the front door of the restaurant, "let us make our grand appearance."

"Oh-k-kay . . ." she says. We walk forward, our sides touching, but Fluttershy keeps her eyes fixed on me. There's an obvious quaver in her voice, a rather obvious tell that shows me that she's still star-struck. It is only when we open the front doors and step inside the restaurant that Fluttershy takes her eyes off me and takes in the restaurant instead.

It's lit dimly with orange bulbs, as many restaurants are wont to do, but what makes the atmosphere of La Sorellanza different is the foliage. Nearly every restaurant I've been to, even the high-class Canterlotian ones, is decorated with tasteless art pieces and awful memorabilia significant to no one except the owner. This restaurant, however, is augmented with potted plants of all varieties. Small saplings, bushes, grasses—it's like the entire restaurant is alive. There are even a few tomato bushes strewn about, which, as I am told, are used to serve the guests.

The rest of the restaurant is quite well accoutered as well. The ivory window curtains are ample and decorated with gold trim and green embroidery that winds itself around the fabric in an understated floral design. The pale celadon tablecloths are similarly augmented with the same winding green floral motif. They feel like suede but are tremendously easy to clean. I would know; I made them!

In front of us is a most impressive display. Standing in front of a small lectern is the maître d', a handsome young stallion dressed in a brown suit. Behind him a large living wall of greenery, complete with ivy, vines, and a miniature waterfall.

"Buona sera—good evening, ladies, and welcome to La Sorellanza," the stallion in front of the lectern says with a charming smile. "Do you have a reservation with us?"

"Indeed, Fresco, I do," I say, stepping up closer to the lectern. I sneak a glance at the booking schedule laying on it, and I see a number of red stars and comments like "VVVIPs" or "special guest!" around one particular block. I smile. "For Rarity and Fluttershy," I finish.

Instantly, Fresco straightens up. "Lady Rarity! Oh my goodness, a thousand pardons, signora, I didn't recognize you at first! May I say that the two of you are—" He clears his throat "—quite dashing tonight."

"Th-thank you," Fluttershy mumbles. She presses her body closer to mine and averts her eyes.

"Ah." Fresco comes out from behind the lectern and sits down in front of Fluttershy, waiting for her to look up at him again. "Apologies are due, signora, if I made you uncomfortable, but I am simply stating the facts in my eyes. In any case, Lady Fluttershy, you needn't fear the comments of our other patrons tonight. If any of them give you trouble, just call me, or have Lady Rarity call me, and I shall handle it at once."

Fluttershy eventually raises her head and looks at Fresco. She gives a small and nervous nod. With a smile and nod of his own, Fresco stands back up. Given his charisma, it's rather clear why he's the maître d' of this restaurant. He closes the booking schedule and says, "If you two ladies will follow me, I shall have you seated at once."

I nod, and we follow Fresco as he leads us off to one end of the restaurant. The moment that we leave the entrance vestibule and come into view of the other patrons, the entire restaurant falls quiet as everypony seems to stop what they're doing to look at the two mares that have entered. All the stallions, mares, and even the staff are looking at us with varying degrees of admiration, desire, and perhaps envy. Even for such a formal location, I think we dressed a bit too well. With an exaggerated groan, the restaurant comes back to life as most of the ponies around direct their attention elsewhere.

But even as we continue walking to our table, I can feel the pressure of a few pairs of eyes remain on us. Fluttershy shrinks into my side again, obviously feeling that pressure too. She shivers against my coat. I put a hoof on Fluttershy's shoulder comfortingly and look around for the offending ponies. For those eyes that linger on us, I give them an icy glare. It takes no words to have those ponies look back at their food, abashed. Sorry, darling; we're not interested.

I see that the table Fresco got for us is right next to the kitchen and partially hidden by some potted trees. A basket of breadsticks and a vase of dahlias sit in the center. Two cushions lay across from each other, a menu in front of each setting. It's not a private table, but it's rather close to one. Fresco has us sit down on the cushions as he removes the "VIP Reserved" card from the table.

"Can I start you with something to drink?" he asks.

"I think we'll both have some water, please," I say. I know that both of us would appreciate a good white or herbal tea, but few restaurants provide it as an option.

Fresco nods, takes a pair of glasses from a passing tray, and sets them on the table. He gestures to the menus. "Gioiello, your waiter, will be here soon to take your order. Until then"—Fresco falls into a formal and practiced bow—"I wish you a pleasant night." He gets up and leaves quietly.

I turn my attention to Fluttershy and ask, "Are you alright, sweetheart? There were a lot of ponies back there."

She looks around. Thanks to our convenient location and the line of potted plants obscuring the view, no ponies can see us directly. She turns back to me and gives me a small, timid smile. "I'm okay, Rarity. It wasn't too bad. Especially since you were there with me." She blushes lightly and picks up a menu to peruse the offerings. I do the same. The selection is fairly small, but elegant and well chosen.

It only takes me a few minutes to make a decision. "I think this salad would do for me nicely, don’t you think?" I ask, pointing at one of the options on the menu.

"Um, I think it's fine. But why are you picking a salad?" Fluttershy says, a questioning look on her face. "You don't need to lose weight."

I bring hoof up to my face to hide the blush that has surely grown on my cheeks. "You're too much, Fluttershy. Only because a lady must always watch her figure, even on a date. But what are you having? I see you studying one of the dishes." I point to the largest picture on the menu.

"Oh, y-yes, that one," Fluttershy says. "I don't think I should pick it."

"Whyever not? You can choose whatever you'd like, and you must agree that that one looks delicious."

"It does; it looks so good, but it looks so expensive. I can't even find the price for it!" Fluttershy says. She turns the menu over and over in her hooves.

I look a little closer at the picture of the dish. At the very bottom corner, in a light gray font, I see a tiny figure with what appears to be one too many zeroes after it. I look up to Fluttershy and close her menu with my hooves. If she saw that number next to the dish, she'd never consider ordering it. Smiling comfortingly, I say, "If you like it, order it. Price is no object. I'm paying, remember?"

Like clockwork, our waiter comes to us right as I finish speaking and take my hooves off the table. "Good evening, ladies," he says in a deep voice. "My name is Gioiello. I trust that you are having a pleasant night?"

I turn to see a tall brown stallion with a notebook in hoof. He has a charming smile on his face and a broad, square jawline. The muscles in his legs aren't excessive, but they're quite ample and in just the right places. Oh, and are his shoulders really that broad, or is that just his suit?

I close my eyes quickly; now is not the time for such thoughts. It takes a moment for me to find my voice and open my eyes again.

"Ah, yes, we are having a good time, garçon, and we are ready to order."

Gioiello bows formally and asks, "For you, Lady Fluttershy?"

"I'll have the, um . . ." Fluttershy looks to me in confirmation. I nod. "The asparagus with white truffle," she finishes in a mumble.

Gioiello nods and scribbles something in his notepad. "Excellent choice." He turns to me. "And for you, Lady Rarity?"

"The, ah, Caprese salad, please."

He nods again and scribbles in his notepad before putting it in a pocket on his suit. "Thank you, ladies. Your food will be out shortly." He bows and walks into the kitchen to give the chefs our orders. I watch him go.

Fluttershy prods my side with a hoof. "Rarity, are you okay?"

I rip my eyes away from the kitchen door and back to my love. "Sorry. I was just rather impressed with our waiter."

"Oh, um . . . I guess?" Fluttershy says, shuffling her forehooves. "I wasn't really looking at him that much. I think I was looking at this really beautiful . . ." Fluttershy shrinks back a little before continuing. "I was looking at you."

"Oh, sweetheart!" I smile and put a hoof to my chest. "You are just too kind, sometimes!"

Fluttershy blushes a little before responding. "B-but it's true! You're so much lovelier than me. You're so beautiful, and so nice, and so gorgeous that I just want to . . ." Fluttershy trails off. Fluttershy reaches a hoof across the table, as if intending to touch me. "C-can I?" she asks pleadingly.

I smile warmly and walk around the table, bringing the cushion with me. I sit down right next to her, our sides touching. "I am yours, Fluttershy. All yours. You don't even need to ask," I say, putting my hoof around Fluttershy's torso.

Fluttershy reaches a hoof up to my face. Gingerly, she touches the lace bridle on my face. With her other hoof, she massages the saddle on my back. "You really are a goddess, Rarity," she coos. "A beautiful, beautiful goddess. I've never seen another pony so . . . indescribable." She takes her hoof off of my back and starts playing with my reins, nudging my head this way and that.

I smile to myself at Fluttershy's play. If she is enjoying herself with me, that means I accomplished my goal. I nicker softly and smile at her.

Fluttershy gasps, looking awash with rapture. She takes her hooves off of my face and reins and moves them to other locations: the dress, the tail, the mane, the legs. I extend my hooves and start pressing into her coat as well. It's almost like one of the cuddle sessions we frequently share, but this one feels quite a bit more intense.

I put my lips to Fluttershy's gently, and she kisses back, pressing forward and almost attacking my lips and tongue with her own. The kiss is more aggressive than I have come to expect from her. Not that I'm complaining too much. My eyes drift closed as I try to return the kiss with equal fervor, moaning softly into her mouth. Kisses like these are one of the innumerable reasons why I love Fluttershy.

We separate slowly. Fluttershy turns her attention to the pendant on my neck, taking it in her hoof. I do the same with her pendant, and we press our jewels together, shimmering pink on iridescent white. "We do seem to wear our pendants quite often now," I murmur.

Fluttershy answers with an equally quiet voice. "I know. Ever since you gave it to me, I don't think I've spent a minute outside without it around my neck." she sighs happily. "It's almost like we're wearing our wedding bands . . ."

Fluttershy gasps suddenly before retreating and moving her hoof away, letting our necklaces fall back to our chests. "Oh! I'm sorry, Rarity," she says, her eyes averted guiltily. "I'm moving too fast. I shouldn't have brought that up."

I shake my head gently and urge her face to look at mine with a hoof. "You're never too fast for me, sweetheart. We're far too close now for things like that to bother me," I give her a gentle kiss on the lips, trying to drain the remaining tension from her body.

"It doesn't matter if I were your close friend, lover, or something more," I continue, "because I would be spending my entire life with you in every case." I lean forward and wrap my hooves around her barrel in a tender hug. "Perhaps we're not quite ready to take that step yet," I whisper into her ear. "But if we were ever to make it that far, I would have absolutely no misgivings about being your wife for the rest of my days."

Fluttershy gasps. When I lean back to look at her, there's a trembling but joyous smile on her face, and there's even a little moisture gathered in the corners of her eyes. We join in another heartfelt kiss, this one long and passionate. After we separate again, I wait patiently for Fluttershy to find her voice. "I-I would love to be your wife, too. The lucky wife of such a lovely, pretty, p-perfect goddess."

We nuzzle our noses together again. She puts a hoof back on my face, stroking it gently while her other hoof presses into my saddle as it was a few minutes ago. I close my eyes and smile. "You are lovely," I say. "And I would never be ashamed of being with you." I end with a small lick to her nose.

Fluttershy gasps. "Yes . . . You're lovely too," she says, her hooves starting to wander my body again. "So lovely," she says in a breathy voice against my ear. She plunges her mouth down on my neck and suckles the skin. Now I gasp in surprise. When she comes back up, she says, "But if you're sure that I'm not moving too fast . . . D-do you think that . . . maybe, after this date, we could, um, go home and—"

"Dinner is served, ladies!"

A loud and boisterous voice interrupts Fluttershy. Her eyes contract at the sound, and she squeaks, shrinks back, and tries to hide behind me. I stroke her back and urge her to look up. When she does, we see a large beige stallion with a wide smile on his face. He speaks with a heavy Italian accent in a boisterous voice: "My name is Mario, head chef of La Sorellanza." Two sous-chefs come from behind him, each setting a steel dome-covered plate in front of us.

"I personally prepared your meals tonight, and only the freshest ingredients from the kitchen were used," Mario continues. "Tender asparagus, hearty mozzarella, juicy tomato, and of course, premium white truffle." The two sous-chefs each put a hoof on the metal domes.

"Voilà!" Mario cries out. The domes lift at the same time, revealing our food.

My own salad is exceptionally colorful, consisting of plentiful tomato slices, basil, and mozzarella drizzled with olive oil. True to the rumors, Mario plucks a few cherry tomatoes from the bush behind us and wipes them off with a cloth before dropping them on my salad.

Fluttershy's entrée consists of a layer of roasted asparagus, a circle of white cheeses and boiled egg, and a covering of truffle slices. The dish is not as colorful as mine, but the smell wafting from it is that decadent and delicious bouquet that only fresh white truffle can produce. I take a deep breath, enjoying the smell that I have only experienced a few times before.

Mario falls into a bow. "Enjoy, ladies!" With that, he and his assistants retreat into the kitchen.

"Wow . . ." Fluttershy says, looking at her dish. She seems as enchanted by the bouquet wafting from her dish as I am.

"Yes, sweetheart. Mario is a veritable master at his craft," I answer while raising a cherry tomato in my aura. I put it into my mouth. A sweet and slightly tart flavor explodes out as the skin breaks, lending a taste that only comes from the freshest ingredients. The tomato was not even minutes old when it made its way to my plate. "But you were interrupted when our chef arrived. What was it that you wanted to say?"

"Oh! Umm . . ." Fluttershy leans back and hides behind her mane, rubbing her forelegs together nervously. "I wanted to ask . . . um . . ." She sighs and hangs her head. "I'm sorry, Rarity. I forgot," she concedes.

Her lie is quite transparent; the forced intonation, the swallowing at the end of her sentence, I can read her deception easily . . . but I won't force her to reveal the truth. "Okay, Fluttershy. But when you do remember, please know—" I put a hoof on her shoulder and look at her earnestly "—that I will be with you, and I will always listen."

Fluttershy nods silently.

"But enough of that!" I exclaim, taking my hoof off Fluttershy and turning my eyes towards my salad ravenously. "Our food is here, and we would do good to enjoy it while it is still fresh!"