Happenstance

I’ve never been a fan of bars. Between the loud music, smoky air, and crappy drinks, they made for a bad time if you were a certain type of person.

Some called that type “boring”. I don’t have a retort for that.

But I wasn’t at a bar. Not that kind, anyway. There was a counter, sure. And that counter may have been called a bar. And the guy behind the bar may have been tasked to make drinks for customers. But it wasn’t a bar!

Soft piano. Mercifully smokeless atmosphere. The distinct lack of spilt beer residue gluing my shoes to the floor. It wasn’t a bar. It was the hotel lobby. This was a good time.

Might have been better with friends though.

I was in town for a friend’s bachelor party. “A night on the town in Manehatten!” they said. “We’re gettin’ him wasted!”

Maybe that was a good idea. Married life would seem like bliss if you spent some of your last single moments throwing up.

Unfortunately, the ol’ ball and chain to be called the thing off. Something about emergency wedding plans. I guarantee the poor guy couldn’t give two shits about the centerpieces, but he knew better than to say no.

So, when the man of the hour announced he couldn’t make it- last minute of course- the party kind of fell apart. And without my friend there, I had little reason to follow the others to some dingy dive downtown.

Which left me here, nursing a cocktail they’d surely insult me for drinking and letting the melancholic tune of the jazz band distract me from how much money I wasted coming down here. At least I managed to shorten my hotel reservation and book an earlier train ticket. Might as well enjoy my last night of this impromptu vacation.

Though my friends weren’t around, I was by no means alone. All manner of colorful characters filled the many cushioned chairs of the lobby. Pretty little anthropomorphic ponies, some winged, some horned, all dressed in over-the-top garb that made me feel pretty inadequate in black and white.

I should clarify. I’m not one of them. There are humans and then there’s every other weird species in this world with their comparatively supernatural powers and abilities. I happen to belong to the former category.

My first thought when I came to this world was “Holy crap! Talking horses?” My next thought was, “Where did this job offer come from?” As it happens, for all their greatness, the residents of Equestria could not handle something Earthlings happen to deal with all too often.

Tedium.

You heard right. Equestria, the land of magic and cute horses, was in dire need of office clerks.

I’d tell you more, but literally nobody- or nopony as I’ve learned to say- wants to hear about the plight of a cubicle jockey.

As I pondered my dull lot in life, I turned my attention to something more entertaining like the band that’s been distracting me from realizing I’ve just had one too many. More specifically, the stunning wom- no- mare singing sweet nothings into my ears all night.

Long charcoal hair stretching all the way down her back. Gorgeous purple eyes I wish would look my way. Slim black slit dress that showed off just enough gray leg to see that they did, in fact, go on forever. I don’t wanna blow all my adjectives in one place, but the color gray had never looked better.

I didn’t see wings or a horn. That made her an earth pony if I understood correctly. Which might explain her Amazonian stature and generous proportions. I’m not sure if those things correlate with race, but it made sense. Ponies that, historically, did all the farming and legwork of the three races might as well develop to be pretty big.

This one probably didn’t farm though. If she did, it would be a tremendous waste of talent. I’d liken her voice to butter but much better for your health. She was only singing about some cliché nonsense like the color of autumn leaves, but it just sounded so good.

And in my perhaps excessive analysis of her skills and beauty, I missed the end of her song. Was it polite to clap at this kind of music? Or did one snap at it like poetry. The other ponies opted to clap, so I followed suit. It deserved some louder applause after all. However, to my dismay, she began to exit her place at the microphone with nopony moving to replace her.

As the air filled with the still soothing but more forgettable instrumental music, I turned my attention back to my glass. Evidently, I ordered another, though a sip informed me this one was mostly water. But I could worry about that later.

Just what was all that about? I’ve never broken into that sort of purple prose at anyone back at my old home, much less one of these ponies in this world. What was in those drinks?

Whatever it was, I stopped caring once I saw her sit down a couple empty chairs down from me with a small purse in her lap. She called the bartender over and ordered something I couldn’t quite make out, resting her head on one hand with a tired expression.

I really wanted to say something to her. Something like “That was beautiful” or “You were amazing”. She probably heard enough from dumb spectators like me, but the quiet applause wasn’t enough.

The bartender brought her order- three shot glasses filled with some dark liquid- and left her to her brooding.

“You’re beautiful,” I said across the gap between us just as she downed her first shot. She gave me a blank look without even moving the glass from her lips.

Dammit.

While I sputtered and tried to think of a way to not look dumb, she placed her empty shot back on the counter and continued her gaze into my embarrassed soul.

You know, you see this nonsense happen on television but never realize the drunk mind is a lot like a sitcom producer. Unfortunately, life doesn’t have a laugh track.

But she did. A smile grew on her face as she rested her cheek on her hand. I’m sure she laughed, though I couldn’t quite hear it.

“Thank you,” she finally answered, her silken voice sending shivers down my back. “I hope you were listening too.”

“I- yes of course I was! I meant to say that!”

“That you were listening?”

“No! That you’re beautiful! I mean-“

I’m sure she laughed that time. I was all too happy to take that reaction. It was more than I deserved for my awkward drunken lines.

Speaking of blessings I didn’t deserve, she kept on looking at me. I already knew everybody in this world had pretty huge eyes by my standards, but I didn’t notice how beautiful they were up close. Like there were stars floating around in there or something. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if there really were.

“Surely that’s not all you had to say, right?” she asked expectantly.

“I don’t know,” I answered before I had time to think too hard. “Pretty sure I could only screw things up from here.”

“You’d be surprised,” she said back. Wait, was that a frown?

In any case, I was happy to take that as an invitation to talk. Worst case scenario I creep her out and she bails.

“Anon,” I said as I moved over to her, offering a hand.

She eyed it pensively and I began to wonder if this gesture had some different meaning in this world and context. Or maybe this wasn’t how you introduced yourself to a woman. Mare. Whatever.

But her expression soon softened and she offered her own hand, limp and palm down just like in the movies.

“Octavia,” she answered. “My friends have tried all my life, but there’s no good way to shorten it.”

I tested her name on my tongue a few times and found no reason to want to shorten it. It was beautiful. Like her.

I was still holding her hand, wasn’t I?

“I feel like I should kiss your hand or something,” I stammered, trying to justify my prolonged contact.

“Oh? Why don’t you?”

Well who am I to look an anthropomorphic gift horse in the mouth?

I brought my lips to her hand and did my best not to linger too long. I didn’t think I had many more ways to play off my awful pickup skills. Is that what this was?

“So,” I said, prolonging the word until I thought of something. “You sing.”

Freakin’ smooth, jackass.

“Would you believe I don’t?”

I laughed at the joke until I realized she didn’t.

“You’re serious.”

“Well, not any more than anypony else. I’m covering for their singer. I’m a musician, but I prefer something with a couple more strings.”

“If that was you just messing around, I don’t think I ever want to hear you do what you actually do. You’d ruin me for other music.”

“I think you might be exaggerating,” she said, not meeting my eyes in favor of her second shot.

“I won’t know until I hear you.”

Octavia just hummed at that suggestion, draining her glass. “So that’s me. What about you? What’s your talent?”

Ugh. There was that question. Now, I’m not too jealous of the whole cutie mark thing. Sure, it would be nice to know what my purpose was by looking at my ass, but I might get existential about fate or whatever if that were the case.

Even so, it’s pretty difficult to seem interesting to ponies when your biggest achievement was a college degree years ago. Especially when some of your contemporaries literally saved the world.

But I soon ran out of stalling words and had to tell her about my life in front of a glowing screen and a keyboard.

And her face just morphed into a mix of awe and horror.

“Goodness! You’re one of the poor souls they brought in to do… that?”

Was my career a four-letter word in Equestria?

“How do you do it?” She asked like I was a legendary hero. “Every day…”

“I could ask the same thing about you, you know.”

Octavia slapped her hand on the bar in indignance, I think for my sake. “Those are not comparable! I enjoy music. You’re torturing yourself!”

“Hey! There’s plenty to enjoy about what I do.”

The exchange continued like that for a while, with her showing similar surprise at my distaste for learning the piano.

“How could you not like it? It’s music!”

“It’s hard to like something when an old lady with bony fingers pokes you in the back every time you miss a note.”

But it was all in good fun. To preserve the conversation, we turned our criticism outward. She told me a number of mistakes the band out on the stage was making that annoyed her to no end. I hadn’t noticed any of them. I told her a couple ways she could improve her credit score. She asked me what a credit score was.

As the night went on and our speech grew more and more slurred, the occasional frown on Octavia’s beautiful face grew more frequent. It bothered me. But I couldn’t find a good time to bring it up.

I wish I were one of those affectionate drunks. I’d be a little more fun at parties that’s for sure. I’m more of a contemplative drunk, which is a nice way to say I get too dumb to talk. Not that I’m all that smart sober either.

Neither of us had said anything in a minute. Octavia just kept glancing from me to her glass. What was upsetting her? Was it even my business as some guy she’d just met tonight?

“I have two problems,” she said, interrupting my rambling mind.

I guess that’s a yes.

“Tell me your problems,” I said, leaning in closer.

“I am…” she trailed off, closing her eyes to help her addled mind find her words.

“What are you?”

“…dreadfully horny right now,” she finished matter-of-factly. She gave no indication that she was joking.

“Huh,” was all I could add to that. I stroked my chin, unable to respond with anything more than understanding. It happens to all of us after all.

“That is a problem,” I agreed.

“What do you suppose I should do?”

I scanned the room as though it would contain the answer to her problem. “I guess I would grab some guy, drag him to my room, and tell him to get to work.”

She turned her head towards mine and I noticed we were a lot closer than I remembered moments ago. And once again, I could glean nothing from her expression.

“Or girl,” I added. “Ya’ know. Whatever you’re into.”

That didn’t seem to be the problem. She just leaned back in her chair and sighed.

“I don’t think that’d work,” she muttered.

I shrugged and took a sip of my drink. “It’d work on me.”

I felt her eyes on me after I spoke, but she turned to her own empty glasses when I looked to her. Seemed like I wouldn’t be hearing about her second problem.

We must have reached the “brooding drunk” stage. I wonder what-

A slapping sound interrupted me before I could begin another soliloquy. The sound drew me to Octavia’s feet where I saw her purse leaning against her chair.

“Could you get that for me?” she asked with an oddly grim expression.

I guess so. It can be annoying to get stuff directly under you. Also bending over is probably uncomfortable in that dress. Shame I wouldn’t get to see it, though.

I dismounted my stool and crawled down to hers. The purse had fallen on the side opposite to me. A smarter person may have just walked to the other side, but I instead attempted to squeeze through the space between her chair and the bar.

As I struggled, she pushed her chair back a bit and let me slide in front of her, placing me directly under the lip of the counter.

Got it. What silly things, purses. You can fit all essentials into pockets. But I guess-

The lights seemed to have gone out and something was poking my back. Wait, no. Something was covering me. I could see faint lights through the fabric. Did I slip under Octavia’s dress?

And leg?

And hook her leg around my back?

Weird.

I attempted to stand up, but stumbled forward. I grabbed for something to catch my fall, my hands landing on what I assumed to be her thighs and my face pressing against the chair.

Wow. We must have been sitting there for a while for the chair to have been that hot. It felt like leather, but smoother. Did they have leather here? Magic leather?

My chair didn’t have any comfortable covering like that. I moved one of my hands and felt around for it more. Hey, why did my hand go nearly all the way around it? Was this her leg?

Alright. Focus. One leg around my right side on my back. One leg supporting my left hand. Another leg between them in my-

Oh.

“Oh,” I said aloud, still feeling the warm, fleshy rod in my hand.

“That’s my other problem,” came her muffled voice above me.

I hadn’t begun to move yet, still entranced at this thing in my hand. It felt hard when I had squeezed it, but it had a little give as well.

“Try taking somepony to your room and surprising them with that. See how things go.”

I wasn’t quite listening. The smell down there had gotten to me. Something floral. Soap? Detergent? Probably both. She would take care of herself, given what little I knew of her.

“You should probably get up and start running in fear or disgust,” she said tiredly, making me wonder just how often this happened.

See, now I had a problem, Octavia. You can’t pop something like that on someone and expect them to behave normally.

“In all seriousness, Anon. You should get up before somepony se-eeehhh-!”

It was my turn to interrupt. Now, I’d never done that before, but I figured it couldn’t be too difficult given what I’d seen in videos and the like. Just put your tongue on there and drag it on up.

The mare sitting above me was still gasping. I was sure it was from surprise more than skill on my part. I mean, who could’ve expected to get licked like that in a…

Oh right. We were still in public.

In a move too swift for my drunken mind to understand, Octavia dragged me out from under her dress to a half-standing position next to her. My expression still hadn’t adjusted when she grabbed my tie and dragged me to face her, so I stared blankly back at her with my tongue still extended.

While I waited a subjective eternity for a reaction, I drew my tongue back in and swallowed, now able to really taste what I’d been licking. Her eyelids fell to half-mast at that gesture, her breath growing heavier.

“So,” she breathed, drawing my face even closer to hers. “It’d work on you, huh?”

I swallowed again.

“You’d be surprised.”