Twilight Sparkle and the Stupid Original Pony

“Magic’s really my thing, honey. My main proficiency for non magical combat is stealth attacks with knives and daggers, but if you want me to use blunt weapons I can give it a try. What are we fighting?”

“Not that kind of clubbing, dear. We’ll listen to too-loud music, dance until our feet hurt, and buy overpriced drinks.”

“Oh! Let’s do it!”

“And then we’ll go dancing!”

“Huh?”

I had to demonstrate the gist of my jest.

—

“Wow!” Twilight exclaimed, “so many humans! You guys aren’t extinct yet.”

There were probably four hundred people at the club tonight. Easily twenty times that number would have fit.

Without delay, Twilight headed straight for the dance floor. I had hoped for some form of chemical bravery, but followed my princess into throb of the music.

She was really shaking her dorky stuff. She was awkward, ungainly, and utterly unabashed. Her moves were awful and adorable and if my heart had not already belonged to her she would have stolen it right there. Instead I followed her example and let the night take us away.

—

The set finished; the outgoing DJ left a generic drum track rolling as he bantered with the next performer.

The drums and the chit-chat on the P.A. ruled out conversation; I pantomimed drinking and Twilight nodded her assent.

When we got to the bar I had a moment of panic: I had no idea what to order. In a moment of inspiration I asked the bar keeper to bring us whatever was stylish to be seen drinking, laughing like it was the most natural request in the world. Twilight took my bluff at face value; out of her field of vision I made a gesture that told the bar keeper that I promised to be a heavy tipper.

Drinks arrived gratifyingly fast and true to my word I sent a tip almost equal to the full price of the beverages. Twilight liked whatever she’d been brought, which completely justified the extravagance.

“I can’t believe this, spending a whole evening not reading or studying or solving somepony’s problems!”

“Well you’re having fun, right?”

“Uh, yeah!” she exclaimed. “Hey, you should see some of the dance clubs they have in Canterlot.”

“Oh? What are they like?”

“I don’t know! I’ve never seen them!”

“You should check them out. Maybe find somepony with a crazy purple mane to go with.”

“What’s he doing?”

Halfway down the bar another patron had just finished snorting a double line of powder cocaine from the surface of the bar.

“Oh, let me show you,” I said, “Barkeep!” I waved the pretty bar keeper back to us.

“We’ll take a line and a half of the Colombian organic, please.”

I sent the credits as the bartender wiped the bartop and measured out our drugs.

“How do I do this?” Twilight asked, somewhat bemused by the situation.

With one nostril held closed I bent down to the full line and inhaled sharply – by the time I reached the end of my line the drug was already hitting my bloodstream.

Time slowed for me; I watched as Twilight did her smaller line.

Her eyes were wide as she raised her face from the bar surface, powder dusted around her nostril and upper lip.

«W- w- w- whoa. Hey. Whoa. Hey, hey, whoa, whoa, hey, whoa,» she stammered in pre-equiik. «What?»

“I think you broke your date,” the bartender said, “but I get off shift in an hour if you two have room for one more.”

I heard the words, but they didn’t register as I took Twilight’s hands.

“You okay babe? Flying?”

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak yet.

“You’ve got coke on your face, love.” I leaned in and licked her clean. Wordlessly she raised her mouth, mirroring my action and licking the cocaine residue from my face, completing a grooming ritual which would have seemed very alien to both our species but in the surreal intimacy of the moment it came naturally. Then we kissed, long and sweet, soaring in the absolute privacy of an anonymous crowd.

Twilight switched back to modern speech when she finally broke the kiss and spoke.

“Whoa...” she was back and now she was riding the chemical wave, “Tangent, if I don’t start dancing right now I will literally die.”

Grabbing my arm she headed back to the dance floor.

The lights sparkled around us and the night dissolved into mad whirling…

—

As the two lovers left the bar, the bartender looked longingly after them.

“I see you staring,” the other bartender said. “You’re totally packing wood.”

“Did you see those two? I’ve never seen such passion.”

“Licking the cocaine leftovers out of each other’s noses,” she laughed, “true love, indeed!”

“I asked if they were open for one more, but they didn’t even notice.”

“Don’t you have another gig when you get outta here?”

“I was totally ready to blow off my shift at Chez Shay’s.”

“Ah, go wait tables, it’ll get your mind of those two!” she said.

As he left to take another customer’s order she added, “or you could fuck me,” but she didn’t say it loud enough for him to refuse her.

—

After several sets on the floor, we still hadn’t stopped dancing.

“Is that white powder addictive?”

“No! We got rid of the addiction gene. I guess it might be, for you. We’ll have to be careful.”

“Does it stimulate appetite? I could eat a horse!”

Twilight certainly enjoyed herself some Terran idiom.

“Actually it suppresses appetite, but we have been demolishing the dance floor nonstop for two hours, no wonder you’re a bit peckish.”

“Let's get go something!” She scanned the concession booths at the far end of the club, still high enough that her brain outpaced her mouth.

“There’s nothing any good here, we’ll have to bail on this joint.”

“Can we eat and fuck? I need dick, too!”

“Not where we’re going, I want to take you somewhere nice.”

—

Midway through dinner, the impulse for intercourse intruded with imperative immediacy. The sensible suggestion was made to settle our bill and move the action home where we could indulge freely; the objection of urgency was voiced and finally a bargain struck. We’d do it here and now, keeping silent to avoid embarrassing discovery. Some restaurants would simply ask amorous groups of dinners to quiet down; scuttlebutt overheard at work suggested that this establishment followed a ‘one strike and you’re out’ policy.

Each table was in its own nook, separated from the paths through the restaurant by thick bead curtains. As long as we could feign innocence to our waiter, should he appear unexpectedly, nobody passing by would have any clue what transpired within. But all this was assumptive of our successful suppression of sudden sexual sounds.

“I should have worn a skirt,” Twilight muttered as she wriggled out of her pants; I folded them and set them on the bench seat beside her. “And these,” she said, leaving her borrowed underwear tangled around one ankle, “just get in the way.”

I slipped under the table and found that if Twilight spread her legs and slumped down on the bench I could get my face right up in her crotch. It was too dim to take in the sights, but touch and taste and scent were richly served. She was hot and sweaty from dancing, the heady organic haze emanating from her purple jungle drew me to her and giving her pleasure became my pleasure. The space under the table was frankly awkward, but there was no stopping now, I needed her climax and when I felt her twitch with its nearness under my worshipful kiss, I licked all the more desperately.

Twilight kept quiet almost to the very end. As orgasm claimed her she neighed loudly, throwing her head back and filling the restaurant with her cries. If the nature of the sounds did not make the exactness of our shenanigans clear, it certainly alerted all around us that something was going on. She was still panting, and I crawling out from under the table, when the manager and a pair of bouncers arrived at our nook. They barged in, pushing past the waiter who had been trying to delay the intrusion – very kind of him, even if not effective.

The manager took one look at us and nodded; the two security blokes escorted us with from the building, and we found ourselves on the sidewalk. I was carrying Twilight’s pants and she was naked from the waist down, her underwear had gone missing.

Before I could offer Twilight her pants, she pushed me up against the wall.

“No fair!” she said, “no fair getting me off but not you. You are going to come in my mouth right now, mister.”

—

The Chez Shea’s manager found the bartender turned waiter pouting in the staff break room.

“I know those two,” he lied, “good tippers.” The second part was true, though it might have been the drugs.

“We have standards here. One of our standards says that you should be out there on the floor taking care of your tables.”

“They were the only ones that mattered and I was taking care of them until you threw them out.”

“You may consider yourself thrown out as well, your attitude hasn’t done you any favors.”

—

Twilight was still sucking my dick when the door next to us opened.

“You!” the emerging figure cried. It was our waiter from moments ago, and come to think of it, our bartender from the club as well.

Twilight didn’t stop.

“Uh, thanks for ummmm trying to run interference for us.” I didn’t have much attention to spare for small talk, Twilight was the center of my attention.

“I’m sorry your dinner was ruined.”

“Well it’s a good thing we went straight for dessert!” Twilight quipped and returned to fellation.

“I could help her with that, you know,” the waiter offered. There was a deep yearning in his plea.

“Mmmp. Mmmm mm mmmnn.”

“Sorry.” I brushed Twilight’s hair back so I could look her in the eyes. “She’s not sharing.”

“Mmmm mm mmmmgh”

“She said you should ask out the other bartender. Back at the club.”

“What? No, no way would she—” his protest faded out as realization dawned “—you’re right! I gotta run!”

He was gone in a flash, presumably hurrying to find his coworker.

—

“I didn’t know you could neigh like that in your human form?”

Twilight’s blush came back - a crimson plus light purple shade of pinkish embarrassment as she pulled her pants on.

“Neither did I!”