Give Sugar, Dance Sweetly

The first three weeks were easy. She visited Babs Seed regularly. The salon was doing really well in Manehattan. Even Photo Finish would pass by to get her mane done. It wasn't a surprise Babs Seed did some of the work on the models Photo would use in her magazines. Scootaloo earned a steady living through running paperwork at the local post office. Every day she would visit Babs on her way to Celestial Square, work until dinner time and grab a snack at the Whinny Palace in Lunar Street. After that she would return home and lock the doors. She never went into 34th Street. Lily Stem and Passiflora were nowhere to be seen. Scootaloo found that a bit disappointing. She would've loved to learn more about the friendly mare.

She kept her apartment nice and tidy. A large contrast with the hallways of the building. Usually, she would enter her room with a red face. The moaning sounds from that one inmate were always audible on her way there. Glib hadn't appeared in a while, but the Arabian she saw multiple times. They never really talked. Lazuli was usually busy carrying around heavy things. Crates with all kinds of goodies, such as jam, salad, dried herbs, cigars and cider.

After the third week was when Scootaloo had to break routine for the first time. She was sitting in the office, organising letters per street when the chief suddenly showed up at her desk. It was a rather chubby mare. She was greyish green and had a curly brown mane. She always carried a stiff posture, distant towards everypony. Her cutie mark was a stamp.

"May I have your attention for a second, Miss Scootaloo?" the mare started.

"Of course chief," the desk worker replied.

"I am afraid Postal Drive has turned in sick today. Could you deliver his batch please?"

The chief was carrying a large brown bag full of letters with her.

"Of course ma'am," Scootaloo answered, "Should I wear a uniform?" She motioned towards the coat rack. Her superior shook her head, "No

time. These need to get delivered ASAP. No time for finding a fitting suit."

Thus, Scootaloo put on her boots and scarf to keep herself warm and trotted outside with the large bag. She was excited. Her first work in the field. Of course, she wasn't planning on being a postmare for long. Her job was a job she was good at, sure, but it wasn't her full potential. Her lack of cutie mark was proof enough. The streets were easy to find. Most letters she needed to deliver were letters to inhabitants of Lunar Street and shop keepers at Discord Drive. She passed all the places with a light hearted mood. Some letters in the letter box, others delivered straight into the hooves of the recipient. All went well, until one address made her cringe.

Red Rock, 34th Street Manehattan, 20

Of course, being the last letter to be delivered, it was already the time of dusk. With a heavy heart and a fear piling up in her throat, she galloped to the written location. Turning around the corner, she could see the street itself for the first time. What caught her eye most were the neon lights. The street was mostly regular looking houses, but some of them had a large neon sign above. The blinds were closed at nearly every window and between the buildings were dark alleyways. One of the buildings with the neon lights was Rocky's Cigarettes and Booze. It was a little night store with various supplies. It was number 20, so Scootaloo assumed this Rocky fellow was Red Rock.

The door made a bell ring as she entered. Scootaloo immediately recognised the lad behind the counter was a Saddle Arabina.

A red one, with a black mane. He didn't put up as much of a friendly face as Lazuli usually did though. No, he looked more like a dirty old man.

"Well well. What brings a girl like you to my store?" Red Rock asked. Scootaloo quickly hoofed over the letter. The faster she could get back to the office, the better. Red Rock took the letter and left it lying on the counter.

He leaned forward a bit, over the counter.

"Would you like to buy something? I have really great good! Straight from Saddle Arabia, actually. Nothing more befitting of a beautiful mare like you."

His voice rang a bell, but Scootaloo couldn't remember where she had heard it before. The creepy shopkeeper licked his lips.

"No thanks," Scootaloo answered, "I really have to get back to the office."

That was a lie. After finishing her roundup, she was supposedly allowed to go home for the rest of the day, provided she would bring back the leather bag the next day of work.

The stallion looked disappointed, but didn't try to stop her. On her way out, Scootaloo could catch a glimpse of him staring at her plot. It wasn't very pleasant.

Outside, Luna had lifted her moon up high already. The street was dark and the neon lights stood out. Scootaloo quickened her pace as she saw a few ponies chatting on her left. Suddenly, a voice called out to her.

"Strange to see a mare like you around these parts, Miss," a raspy low toned voice said, "Should I know you?"

It occurred to Scootaloo walking away in silence was perhaps the wisest thing to do, but the social Ponyvillian in her just couldn't keep from answering a question.

"No sir, I'm just dropping off a letter."

She turned around and could now clearly see the stallion speaking. It was a grey earth pony wearing a grey fedora and a black costume vest. He had a square jaw and broad shoulders.

"You look really nice in those boots," he remarked. Just the kind of remark Scootaloo did not want to hear.

"Thank you," she replied, before turning around and picking up her pace. She was obstructed by another stallion. He had the same style of fashion as the other stallion, but a black hat and a grey vest. His coat was brown. He was somewhat shorter than his friend.

"I think the lady would like to see you," the second stallion said.

"What lady?" Scootaloo asked nervously. She could easily take down one of these jokers, but two? Not so sure.

"Follow me," the first one demanded.

Scootaloo saw no better plan than following. If things got rough, she would still have her hooves to fend them off.They led her to one of the buildings with a neon sign.

69 Club

Next to the door was a large window lit up with pink background. There stood a cherry mare wearing stockings, inviting ponies inside. Normally, Scootaloo would feel shocked by such a thing. Shocked or even disgusted, but this was different. The mare wasn't just standing there, she was dancing. Moving like a wave, standing on her hind legs. It was the first sign of Scootaloo's downfall into a bottomless pit. She stood hypnotised by the movements the dancer could perform. It didn't appeal as sensual or sexual to Scootaloo. No, it was more the refinement of the moves that caught her attention. The detail in the routine, almost like a flight routine by Rainbow Dash or the Wonderbolts, but more reserved, more accentuated.

Stallion number two nudged her shoulder and nodded towards the door. Stallion number one pushed it open and went inside. Scootaloo followed, suddenly a lot more confident about this situation. The building contained some large gambling tables, several round stages and a long bar. The floor was done with red carpet and the walls were purple. Everything was lit by pink purple neon. It all looked pretty futuristic.

At the bar sat a few stallions drinking away their sorrows. The pony behind the counter came to greet them. It was a grey mare. She looked pretty, a natural pretty, but the makeup on her face took a bite out of that. She had a large number 69 on her flank.

"Boomer, Buster, I see you've found a new girl," the mare said.

She looked at Scootaloo with a blissful smile. The figure seemed almost motherly.

"Hello there and welcome to the Sixty Nine Club! My name is Soixante Neuf. Who might you be?"

"S- Scootaloo, ma'am. Is this place usually so-"

"Empty? This day of the week it usually is, yes. You should see it during the weekends. That is when we really get business done," Soixante said.

She walked around Scootaloo with an investigative glare. Suddenly, she poked Scootaloo's flank.

"No cutie mark, I see."

Scootaloo turned her backside away from the mare, "No ma'am. That's why I came to Manehattan."

Now, Soixante was starting to make her feel nervous. It was almost as if the lady expected her to start glowing and spouting prophecies.

"Would you like to try and dance?" Soixante asked, "It can be surprising what your real talents are, sometimes."

The mare looked at her expectantly. Her two muscle men seemed to share her enthusiasm. Scootaloo felt she should run all of a sudden.

"I'd love to, but I really have to get home now. Maybe some other time?" she said, before making her way to the door.

"Fine," Soixante replied, "If you change your mind, you know where to find us. We always welcome new ponies to our family."

Scootaloo shuddered as she left the door. She wanted to try the dancing. She wanted to be able to do what the mare at the window was doing, but something felt off. It seemed vaguely like one of those pleasure houses Twilight had described once. Added to that, Soixante Neuf had seemed so intimidating, so trusting. it just didn't feel natural.

Behind the counter, Soixante counted her bits.

The stallion before her, some nameless drunk, lifted his head from his puddle of spilt alcohol.

"Is she -hic- coming back? She's pretty."

Soixante grinned and put away the bits.

"Of course she is. They always come back."