Pro at Cons: Schoolfed

“Good! That's good! Snowflake, keep up the pace – faster and shorter strokes! Miss Octavia, you're great. Pinkie, the crescendo is a bit faster; it's more of a blastbeat part. Rainbow and Sunset – great, but Sunset needs a little more work on her vibrato. Rarity – don't rush it. Flash Sentry – you're jumping in one tact early, don't rush. Vinyl, more treble. Aside from that – you made me proud, people! That's what I want to see.” - Moon Shine applauded his orchestra, jumping off the railing. - “So, see you all tomorrow. Practice, people – practice makes perfect. Really. We still have a load of time, so don't worry. As of now – dismissed!” - waving goodbye to his students, he ascended to the radio booth, helping Vinyl gather all the wires. That done, Moon descended the stairs to grab his bag and spotted Rarity, modestly leaning against the railing, obviously waiting for something.

“Yes, miss Belle – can I help you?” - cocking his head to the side, Moon flashed the girl a smile.”

“Why, yes, sir, I was wondering...” - she bit her bottom lip, curling a lock of hair around her index finger shyly. - “...I was wondering if I may ask you a... well, a personal question?..”

“Well, okay.” - nodded the man, throwing his bag belt over his shoulder. - “Ask away.”

“Is that a whiplash on your face?” - Rarity deadpanned point-blank.

“Yes. Why?” - chuckled Moon. - “And how do you know?”

Now it was Rarity's turn to blush.

“Why, I was doing jousting for as long as I remember myself, darling! Unless you, sir, imply something a proper gentleman is not even supposed to know about!! Oh, I am shocked, sir – simply shocked!!” - the amount of drama quickly surpassed the red field of the dial, and Moon raised a hand submissively:

“Whoa-ho-hoah, hold it, miss! I wasn't implying nothing – actually, you were the first to ask of me. So...”

“Why, this whole situation is pretty awkward indeed...” - mused the fashionable girl out loud. - “Nevertheless, pray tell – is Miss Cheerilee the cause of this?” - a dangerous spark flicked in her sapphire-blue eyes, and Moon creased a brow at her:

“It's pretty funny you're asking... Why?”

“My dear, sir – every last student in our school knows that Miss Cheerilee lives with you!” - she giggled. - “So, I was thinking if she, well... might've had some funny tastes?..”

“Now, miss Belle – first off, Miss Cheerilee lives at my place because she had suffered a fire.” - sternly retorts Moon Shine. - “And she is treated as a guest and a friend she is. Hence I'd ask of you to stop feeding the rumor mill and concentrate on your work for the coming concert. I believe we have an agreement, miss Belle?..”

“Yes, sir...” - she replied, crestfallen. - “I am sorry to ask that of you.”

“No biggie, Rarity.” - he smiled reassuringly at the girl, giving her a slight pat on the shoulder. - “It's just not something you want to know of me. Just a little accident, is all.”

“I hope you get well soon, sir.” - she beamed a smile at him, hoisting her own bag onto her shoulder. - “Thank you for your honesty, sir – thank you and goodbye.” - waving a hand at Moon, she took off, swaying her hips slightly; shouldn't have Moon known better, he'd say someone had a schoolgirl crush.

But he did knew better.

“Mister Moon...” - Sunset's fiery head poked into the teachers' lounge. - “Principle Celestia wants to see you.”

“Thank you, Sunset; I'm coming.” - nodding goodbye to the phys-ed teacher he was chatting with, Moon Shine headed straight to the principle's office.

“You summoned me, Principle, ma'am?” - he inquired, standing at attention in the middle of the office; besides him and the hostess of the office, there were also Dean Cadence (who obviously didn't recognize Moon au naturel) and some lady, clad in a fancy jacket with a flower in the buttonhole. He pondered for a second, why the Crystal Preps were here – and what was it for.

“Yes, mister Moon, I did.” - replied Celestia with a soft smile. - “Please, meet miss Cadence – she's the Dean of Crystal Prep Academy...” - Moon kissed a hand of blushing Cadence. - “...and miss Flitter, the teacher in vocals from CPA...” - the second lady smiled with dignity, accepting the kiss on the hand. - “Ladies, meet our Music teacher and the director of the charity fundraising concert, mister Moon Shine.”

“A pleasure to meet you, sir.” - smiled dean Cadence, while Flitter just nodded with a smile.

“The pleasure is all mine, ladies.” - Moon nodded curtly.

“Miss Cadence and miss Flitter came all the way here with a group of volunteer students to help us arrange the concert upon our request.” - explained Celestia. - “The students of Crystal Prep Academy also wished to participate in a concert; their group would be conducted by miss Flitter; she was also kind enough as to offer her services in directing our groups in terms of vocals.”

“That's very generous of you, ma'am.” - Moon allowed himself to smile, ignoring the nagging feeling of 'something's-just-not-right'. - “I appreciate it and gladly accept your offer.”

“Marvelous...” - smiled Flitter, replying in a deep, sensual voice that immediately made Moon's every hair stand on its end. - “I'll be glad to help.”

“Well then, I will leave you to mister Moon's attention, miss Flitter...” - smiled Celestia. - “...as me and Dean Cadence have something to discuss. Nice having you here, mister Moon.”

“My pleasure, ma'am.” - nodded Moon Shine, turning to leave the office, accompanied with Flitter. They were strolling down the hall, heading for the teachers' lounge, silent – and Flitter kept stealing glances of Moon Shine; he, however, was neck-deep in his own thoughts.

“This way, please...” - he invited, opening the door to the teachers' lounge for the lady; she came in, sneaking a half-lidded gaze at Moon.

“So... You're a Vocals teacher, aren't you, ma'am?..” - he inquired, finding no better theme for a small icebreaker talk, to which she just nodded, still sporting her vague, mysterious smile. - “Must say, you've simply an enchanting voice. Have you sang at the opera?” - Flitter shook her head, throwing one leg over another. - “It's a shame you haven't. The opera's missing out on such a treasure like you, ma'am...” - he stuttered abruptly, befuddled with Flitter's strange demeanor.

“I guess I've just never felt enough courage to sing for the audience...” - smiled Flitter, shifting her legs again. - “That's why I teach how to sing, and don't do it myself...”

“Uh-huh, understood...” - nodded Moon, scratching the lash bruise; it itched mercilessly, as if ants were crawling all over it.

“And you? You're a musician, right?” - Flitter leaned back on the couch.

“Uh, yeah, used to be, at least, I think...” - replied Moon absentmindedly, catching himself staring at the lady's legs. Dayum they be nice. - “I do bagpipes, tambourine, harmonica, tumtum... some guitar, when I feel like it.”

“That sounds wonderful, mister Shine...” - purred Flitter, spreading her legs slightly; if one'd glance up her skirt, one'd manage to find out the keenest details of her underwear design; and, in spite of having a perfect vantage point, Moon opted not to break eye contact - “I even feel... singlehanded presented to such diversity.”

“Eh, having a past of a garage band percussionist...” - shrugged the man, involuntarily tugging down the left sleeve of his shirt – the one covering the tattoo. - “Guess old skills just don't rust.”

“Hmm... Mister Moon, could you please get me a glass of water? This place is pretty toasty...” - Flitter almost moaned, reaching for the collar of her blouse, starting to undo the buttons; Shine quickly stood up and intentionally slow walked over to the water cooler, pouring a full cup; the room actually felt hotter, heat rising along with his thermometer, but the swarm of thoughts kept buzzing: what's her deal? Is she hitting on me or what? Dayum dat one is hawt... But dayum I don't need trouble as of now...

“Thank you, darling...” - batting an eyelashes at him, Flitter reached for the cup, leaning forward and lingering for a brief second: her blouse buttons were undone merely the halfway down, revealing pretty much everything – and most boldly stating the fact that this suave-voiced lynx sported no bra.

Oh heck, jeered the 'conscience', admit it, mate: ur huge sucka for this kind of girls! Moon sat stock still, gathering every last drop of his willpower not to gawk and to maintain the easy chat:

“So, Crystap Prel? I mean, Crystal Prep? And how's the place?”

“Oh, it's marvelous, if you're into the snobby pricks for students...” - huffed Flitter. - “This pays my bills, however, and the prefect is quite handsome... too bad he's engaged already...” - she sighed, running a finger down her neck just-as-if-unintentionally; Moon gulped down the lump in his throat, covering himself by putting a leg onto a leg. - “And too bad I'm just so weak for strong, handsome men.”

“Well, Nature knows best, I'm sure.” - Moon grinned dumbly, trying not to fall spellbound to the charms of that bodacious lynx with doe eyes and a voice of a siren; it wasn't that he felt himself too engaged in whatever he had with Cheerilee not to have some quality time with a lady eager and consenting, something just felt... wrong. As if he was a mouse, presented to some free cheese. And a clever mouse knows where the free cheese is provided.

In the mousetrap.

“Say, mister Moon...”

“Oh, drop the formalities, ma'am; call me just Moon or Shine, whatever strikes you fancy.”

“Oh... yes, Shiny...” - Moon's ear twitched involuntarily at the fresh nickname. - “Say, may I ask you a... personal question?..” - Flitter changed her seat, now lounging on a couch mere foot away from Moon.

“I guess, you can...”

“I couldn't help but notice that your face is... damaged. As for me, I find it very... attractive...” - breathing out the last word, Flitter inched closer. - “But – what was the cause of this unfortunate turn of events?..”

“Polo game.” - Moon shot out, the Lies Machine coughing and screeching, overcome by testosterone rushing in his blood. - “I was playing polo with my old college friend, and, well... things turned out the wrong way.”

“Ohh, poor dear...” - Flitter frowned slightly, inching ever closer, her hips now brushing against Moon's. - “A polo game... such a fluttering experience... strong, agile men, mounting the magnificent beasts, strife for dominance... it's almost a knight's tournament clash, is it not? I myself find it very... arousing...” - licking her lips, Flitter laid a hand onto Shine's knee, making him tense up for a second. - “And you?”

“It's a good fun, when you don't get a whiplash in your face.” - he replied, suppressing a stutter. - “And yes, it is quite... amusing.”

“Mmm... and that scar? It makes you look... carnivorous, like a tiger, eyeing down his prey before pouncing...” - inching ever so close, Flitter purred into the man's ear, softly ruffling the hair in the back of his head before retracting her sharp nail down his neck, enunciating the last word; this little demarche earned her a massive shiver of delight from Shine, who shook away the overcoming feeling (taking his time to relish on it, though) and stared back at the seducing lady:

“Um... Flitter...”

“I like it when you drop the attitude.” - she teased. - “So, how about we go somewhere... private? Say, my place?..”

“I, er... I'm kinda not that okay with that...”

“Your place?..” - she creased an eyebrow, sly grin slowly creeping across her face. - “That's naughty...”

“I mean...” - Moon cleared his throat. - “I mean, we've met ten minutes ago.”

“So what?..”

“Eh, I don't feel like jumping the gun this soon... 'sides, I... I need to go check on my students! Yeah, students! Prepairing for the concert and stuff. Yeah. Like that.” - real smooth, halfwit, sneered the 'conscience'.

Flitter scratched him behind the ear teasingly:

“Shame... Well, when you're done with the attitude of a skittish schoolgirl, come see me.” - she grabbed a pen and quickly jotted down the address. - “I'll be waiting...” - she blew a kiss at Moon, swaying her hips just so naturally on her way out and darted him a bedroom glance, holding so much promises...

So, here's your alternatives, mate: get laid with this sizzling hot succubus and have the time of your life – or head home and explain yourself to Cheerilee – inclining she didn't see the bruises as of yet, concluded the nasty voice of conscience in his head. Moon, however, was thinking in four dimensions: he beeped the A.B.:

“Got the folder; seal intact. Things got hairy; this'll cost more. Dead drop location?” - and sent it away, sighing reluctantly; his arousal faded gradually, echoing in the bruised back with a small nasty pricks of frustration, so he had to move the scapulas close to get rid of the nasty feeling. The answer came shortly after: “Mail me with full report. Leave the documents in the locker. State your charge. A.B.”.

At least that was the easy part.

The clerk in the storage recognised him immediately, handing over the key without even saying the word; Intimidation 101, for Dummies, giggled the 'conscience'. The locker was empty, so he just put the package in, turning in the key, and left home.

Cheerilee wasn't there, of course; she still had the classes, and Moon silently pondered what was that strange glee he felt upon realizing this. In the living room, however, he had found a note that read:

“Shine,

I'll be back late today; got extracurriculum at school and then have to go check on my house; the insurances finally found their reason and quit bitching, so I can start the repairs.

Come see me if you're okay with that, or just wait for me.

Cheerilee <3”.

“I'm so having a crush...” - never yet was the obvious so relaxing for Moon Shine, the man with made-up past, vague present and foggy future.

Being done with the report for an employer, he glanced at his wristwatch: half-past twelve. Ohmai, tis noon yet? Weighing down all of his alternatives, the man stretched nicely, feeling the shoulders pop delightfully, the dull pain from yesterday's stunts seeping away, and came to a conclusion that he definitely could've used a long, hot shower and a tall drink of something that kicks harder than a pissed mule; so, discarding all the clothes, he jumped right to the first part of the agenda: shower.

At least half an hour later, when he stumbled away, not even bothering to wrap a towel around his waist, red and fuzzy with the overcoming feeling of pleasure, he wiped the vapors off the mirror, observing his bruised frame; red lines came together into an intricate pattern, as is someone was meant to play sudoku on his torso, drawing the grid; back suffered less, as the front side of his took all the whipping; some wounds were covered with bloodcrust, and all of them ached dully. He looked away from the bruises, grinning into the mirror and thrusting his pelvis sideways a couple of times, pretending to do an awfully obscene interpretive dance:

“Tis ma house, beech – mahouse...” - he grumbled in the idiotic tone, grinning nastily to the mirror; however, this sort of antics grow old as soon as they're pulled, and Moon, drying his head off with a towel, made his way out of the bathroom to get some drinks.

With a whiskey glass full of his trademark cocktail “Modesty” (two parts vodka, two parts brandy, shot of tequila and a slice of lemon) in hand, sipping at it, he strode around the apartment, naked, and pondered about his past – his real past, not the one flash-cooked by the Lies Machine.

Nostalgy washed over him, as he wrapped himself in the bathrobe and plopped on the couch, taking a swig of 'Modesty': college years, little garage band that collided into nothingness after a year, first small cons, involving rigging the game of Baccara to his favor... And then – his Big Failure, messing with the wrong guys in a game, and the cliffhanger situation between being shot like a dog for robbing them blind over a game of cards and working for them... then – boot camp, years and years of shady service, official retirement from the ranks – an honorary one, for all them Iron Owls – Moon smirked bitterly, observing the keepsake from the time – a tattoo on his forearm, the silent witness of the most wretched injustice and depravity one can even not fathom to witness. Then – stalking around, changing names, professions, making up fresh life stories every time...

“To fook with that...” - he chanted, taking another tall drink of 'Modesty'; the vicious mix already started to kick in, hard, stirring awake some deep, dark, primal instincts.

Clock chimed quarter to two in the afternoon, and Moon Shine, downing the rest of his drink, raised from the couch, dropping the bathrobe to the floor; alcohol splashed right behind his eyes, whispering to him, encouraging and pushing.

“Ready or not, here I come...” - he chuckled darkly, buckling his belt and reaching for his shirt pocket...

...in a matter of minutes, he was standing in front of the door with the plate, reading '28'; Moon smirked, passing the match he was chewing on across his mouth and knocked hard, three times.

The door opened, and he was about to drop the killer line...

...but instead he just breathed out pathetically: “Oh fook me...”

“Your wish is my command...” - grinned Flitter, grabbing the man at his collar and pulling him inside.

Awestruck, Shine didn't even resisted being dragged all the way down the small highway and tossed onto the queen-sized bed, as the sly grinning woman, donning nothing but a set of black lace lingerie, approached him, letting her light-blue hair fall loose, cascading down below the breasts; he was really thunderstruck, not even able to mutter out a word.

“Glad you decided quickly...” - cooed Flitter, approaching her paralyzed prey. - “I even feared for a second that I was too... assertive on you...” - she inched closer and closer, as Moon strifed himself for even the slightest chance to reply – with anything – rather than just drop his jaw and gawk at the perfectly seductive succubus he was presented to. - “But I see now that I was wrong...” - crawling onto the bed, she quickly straddled the man, grinding herself slightly against him. - “So, now you're not going anywhere... until I have what I need.”

“And?...” - croaked Moon, finally triumphant in the battle over his vocal chords.

“And...” - Flitter smiled vaguely, undoing the buttons on his shirt – one by one, agonizingly slowly. - “And I assure you, you'll remember this...” - splaying the shirt flaps wide, she ran her fingers all across the bruised torso, tracing every red line with her delicate fingertips. - “Are those the remnants of a polo game?..” - he winked, brushing her hair over the man's face, washing him in the delicate blend of scents of her perfume and her skin.

“You could say so...” - groaned Moon, clambering away from his shirt and kicking the boots off; all effects of 'Modesty' seemed to dissipate into nothingness with the growing pressure somewhere under the crown of his head.

“Hmm... such strong, enduring man... battle-scarred... all for me.” - purred Flitter, pressing herself against Shine; her small delicate hands caressed his neck, eliciting the palpable shivers of pleasure, making Moon melt like butter in her hands; it was a pure reverie for him.

When he, in turn, made a move to her, raising his hand to put it to her, Flitter buried her nails sligtly into his neck – sufficient to make it sensible, on the verge of painful:

“Nuh-uh, Shiny – no touching just yet...” - she planted a small kiss on the man's lips, grinning slyly as he put his hands to the sides, as if submitting; all the world was gone for good for him – everything just centered on Flitter's scent, her soft moans, her ever-so-delicate hands... She was hell of a tease, and she was good at it, which made the incoming experience worth the wait.

As she was exploring Moon's battle bruises, Flitter seemed to turn on more and more, grinding herself excitedly against the man, biting her bottom lip; she went on from just caressing to small kisses and scratches, nibbling and licking; Moon was just over his head, his hands itching with the need to cope a feel of that atlas-smooth skin, of those perfect curves, of Flitter.

It was some obsession, and Moon Shine, the con artist with a bad records, happily obliged to it.

In the meantime Flitter's hands had found the buckle of the belt; without hesitation, they've unclasped it, undoing the buttons of Moon's jeans; he quickly got the hint, restoring the status quo: now they both were equally dressed. Well, undressed in the equal measure.

“Flitter...” - growled Moon. - “Flitter?”

“Yes?..” - asked the temptress, grinning victoriously, grinding herself excitedly against Moon. - “What is it, Shiny?..”

“No hands, you say...” - he smirked, opening one eye, his voice shaky with intense jolts of pleasure, torrenting through every neuron in his system.

“Yes, I do...”

“Well, think again.” - with a triumphant smirk, Moon quickly turned the tables, flicking Flitter onto her back so that he was now in charge; she was startled with the abrupt seize of initiative, but submitted willingly, as Shine's coarse palms travelled along her body, feeling every small shiver her delicate body gave out in reaction to the caressing; one hand reached deep under her back, unclasping a lock in a single motion, earning a surprised 'Ah!' from Flitter; then, with a throaty growl, Moon grabbed her bra with his teeth and dragged it away, rewarded with a shudder of pleasure from Flitter; now his hands had more to deal with – and he was only happy to take extra duties.

Now it was Flitter's time to melt and shiver to the tease; she moaned softly, relishing in the feeling, until reaching out and engaging Moon in a feverous, lust-crazed kiss; the tables were turned again, Flitter straddling Shine, grinding herself feverously against a well-defined amusement of a man; her whole body trembled, and each tiny touch elicited a lusty moan from her; again, a crazy-yet-so-good-idea crept into Moon's mind; carefully picking his time, he broke the kiss abruptly, catching Flitter's delicate neck with his teeth and squeezing slightly; the reaction was immediate and powerful. Flitter's eyes flew open, and she let out a throaty growl, rustling Moon's jimmies completely, as her whole body spasmed and twitched with intense pleasure; and he wasn't even getting started yet...

...hours past, covered in sweat and blood from the reopened wounds and Flitter's scratches, disheveled and exhausted completely, yet perfectly content, Moon pressed the cigarette butt in the hotel's ashtray, gently caressing Flitter's cheek; the girl was a mess – her silky hair now resembled a damp mop, she sported bite marks all over – but her eyes glowed with joy and satisfaction, as she cuddled closer to the man:

“I needed this, Shiny. I really did.”

“I can tell...” - he smirked, basking in the glow of her eyes and a happy smile. - “You've expressed it quite... vividly.”

“Well, the problem is... deeper.” - Flitter planted a small kiss on Moon's chest and sighed. - “It's not just that I'm some sex-crazed vixen...”

“But you are.”

“...well, yes, it's a blessing – and a curse, but it's not about just that...” - Flitter looked Moon in the eye. - “You see, I can have any man I want – it's out of question. It's just that I've never had no one who just, well... caught my drift. My tastes might seem... odd. I might've been considered... kinky. Not that it gets to me, but... But...”

“But it does.” - deadpanned Moon, hugging the lady closer. - “See, I understand what you're about to say. But I say, fook the plain. Go fresh.”

“And I've never had the man who could've make me really sore. Ow...” - Flitter giggled, shifting under the blanket. - “I'm worn out. Thank you, Shiny...”

“No biggie... I guess...” - he trailed off abruptly, observing in shock as the blanket was raising in a very telltale manner.

“Well, I think there's something more to discuss...” - Flitter winked coyly. - “What was the last score? 6-2?..”

“I don't think I can get it like 7-3 or 8-4...” - groaned Moon, but Flitter ignored his ramblings, diving under the blanket with obvious intentions...