The sun has yet to set, but it might as well be under the horizon for all the light it gives under the depths of the tall Fillydelphia buildings.
“They’re almost taller than the Manehatten cloudscrapers...” muses the man, distracted for an instant by the sudden darkness. A tan pegasus nearby gives a curious and judgemental glance as she ushers her foals into a nearby apartment. He avoids her gaze by quickly looking down into his hands. He nervously fondles the pamphlet in his hand before moving between the apartment and the back of another unknown building, barely able to walk abreast down the narrow alleyway
He looks down at the crumpled paper in his hand as he walks, barely able to make out the writing in the dim light. Though he has long since memorized its content, he can’t help but feel nervous in the claustrophobic underbelly of the city. It is only with the slightest confidence that he turns down the right hand path.
He grimaces at the smell of wet brick and dirt which nearly overwhelms him while continuing down the too-narrow path. The human doesn’t want to imagine where the moisture came from in the first place, only does his best not to allow his cheap suit to skim the edges, knowing that the stains would never wash out. He also wants to look his best for what is to come.
The corridor widens slightly, causing him to breathe a sigh of relief, but he nearly misses the small, dim neon sign adorning a riveted metal door.
“Pony-Villa” the sign reads in flickering pink letters, the only source of light and clue to what lies beyond the door.
The man takes a deep breath, then raises his hand.
Three quick knocks, another slow, another quick. A pause. Three more quick knocks, another quick, and one more slow.
Only a moment passes before an eye-level slat on the door is pulled aside. A gruff voice startles the man as it echoes from the inside.
“Invitation?”, the voice demands.
He quickly holds up the pamphlet to the voice, unable to perceive what lies beyond the darkness, only taking for granted that whatever is attached to the voice has eyes to see.
Only a second passes before the slat closes with a hard and cold rasp, leaving the human to wonder if he has done the right thing. His nerves are somewhat eased by the sound of locks sliding out of place and chains rattling away from the door.
He licks his lips as his anxiety turns into anticipation.
The metal door opens slowly, as if it requires great effort in order for it to move. The man hastily advances into the gloom, taking note of the minimal contrast between the alley and the room he now stands in. His feet meet low-cut carpet, while his eyes take in the red velvet walls, lit only by a few wall mounted lamps that seem in dire need of replacing.
The man jumps as the door closes behind him with a loud bang. Behind him stands a stallion, not an unusual sight in Equestria. Though what makes this one distinct to the man is the slicked back mane and the black suit with white pinstripes. He seems to have all the trimmings of wannabe gentlecolt, but appears to be missing the much needed smile and personality the clothes usually come with.
The stallion forces a heavily creased laminated paper into the hands of the human, never breaking eye contact with his auburn eyes.
“Make your selection.” the stallion states more than he asks, but it doesn’t matter to the man. He takes the paper in shaking hands, trying to angle it towards the light so he can get a proper look at the menu before him.
No pictures, just an arial font with some calligraphy around the different categories. Young and old, mare, stallion, and everything in between. Everything the man expected, if not more. His eyes scan down the categories to the one he wants, then to the descriptions. A few of the names seem real enough, but most are obviously fabricated even for ponies. Raw Hide? Johnny’s Seed? Cherrylee...
The man’s eyes glaze over as he searches for the right one. Amber hide with apple mark? No.
Magenta eyes with curly red hair? Hell no.
Then, finally, his eyes widen as he finds the object of his desires. He hurriedly points to the menu in front of him.
The strong tang of halitosis announces the arrival of the stallion as he looks over the shoulder of the man. He reaches out a slimy hoof expectantly. The man looks at it for a moment before reaching into his pocket to bring out a wad of crumpled bills, placing them in the presented hoof.
Stuffing the money into his suit pocket, the doorcolt pulls the menu out of the man’s hands before telling him to wait. He cracks open a carpeted door that blends in with the walls of the room before moving out of sight, leaving the man standing there with a confused expression.
Thinking it best to follow the stallion’s instructions, he drags a nearby stool over and sits, hoping somepony or somebody else doesn’t knock on the door behind him. He didn’t want an audience.
Only a few minutes pass before the sound of padded steps announces the return of the stallion, though he’s not alone.
Behind him trails a mare with a gray hide and deep velvet eyes. The man doesn’t care about the furrowed brow marring an otherwise perfect complexion. Only losing himself in the butterflies that rise from his core.
There she is, his favorite, his best. Octavia.
Octavia exchanges a nod with the stallion escort who then focuses his attention on the man taking his stool. The man stands up, eyes focused on the mare in front of him while paying no mind to the sour looks the stallion shoots his way. Octavia’s expression never changes as she takes the lead and heads down the carpeted hallway.
Spotless, numbered metal doors dot the hallway which stand in stark contrast to the velvety floor and painted walls. The only illumination present are the electric lanterns that adorn the side of each door.
The walking continues for some time, leaving the only sound being the barely muffled hooffalls from Octavia on the thin carpet. His idle wonderings of what each room contains aren’t putting him at ease in the least.
Not able to stand the silence for much longer, the man steps closer beside the mare and speaks.
“So, what brings you here-”
Octavia quickly holds out a hoof without breaking her stride, silencing the man with the motion alone before speaking.
“No talking. That’s not what you’ve paid for.”
Audibly gulping, the man complies as they continue down the hallway. It isn’t much longer before Octavia executes a quick turn, pulling the key on her chest that the man had been too distracted by her eyes to notice. She inserts the key into the door with her mouth, giving it a quick turn before pushing it open with practiced ease.
Finally, the man’s curiosity about the rooms is satisfied. Inside is a small but cozy room with wall to wall carpet where even the ceiling wasn’t spared the shag. The middle of the room contains two soft padded adjacent chairs along with a single table with a tablecloth that hangs off the sides, the table just large enough to hold a lit lantern that lights the room with flickering light.
Excited, the man doesn’t wait for Octavia’s invitation. He quickly steps, almost skips, over to the first chair and sits down. This earns a deep sigh from the gray earth pony as she shakes her head and takes measured steps to the chair in front of the man. She sits on the chair in a bow-legged stance that is about as comfortable as a pony could be in such a chair.
“Alright, now that we have arrived,” the man doesn’t withhold his giddy laughter as the mare speaks in her practiced highborn accent. “Let’s get this over with.”
Wasting no time, the man scoots his chair closer to Octavia. His face is mere inches away from that of the mare’s. He extends a hand...
And places his index finger on the snout of Octavia.
“Boop!” exclaims the man.
For a moment, the mare sits expressionless while the man stares at her expectantly. She holds back another sigh before crossing her eyes, scrunching her face and wiggling her nose. This amuses the man greatly.
With barely controlled laughter, the man reaches forward and taps Octavia’s nose once again, harder. The mare repeats the earlier expression, but this time it’s coupled with the action of rubbing her nose. The man guffaws in glee. He reaches for her nose again and...
Octavia blocks it with a hoof.
“No. You only paid for two.”
The man looks disappointed, dejected, but nods in understanding before raising from his chair. Octavia escorts him to the door, holding it open for him as he did her in the hallway, letting him leave with only a short word in parting. He knows the way out.
Closing the door behind him, Octavia lets out the loudest sigh of all before moving over to the small table in the room and reaching under the tablecloth. Pulling out a bottle of amber liquid, she uncorks it with a loud pop before taking a few large swallows of the burning remedy.
“I hate the offseason.” she says aloud before tipping her head back for yet another long drought.
Author's Note
Sorry for the plug, but I'm in some financial dire straights. If you enjoyed this fiction or any of my previous ones, please drop a few bits in my Kofi
This is a fiction I had deleted off of fimfic years ago in a fit of shame ^_^;. It was poorly edited and I wasn't great with my self worth at the time. I decided to pull it up and give it a few editing passes. Had a help with a friend, Silver Scroll. Hope it's still enjoyable after all this time. Cover image sketched by an old friend named Rick, colored and lined by A Tree. I don't think they have links anymore.
Eldorado graciously dug up the original for me., and I simply copied in the new writing.
