Repeat Customers are Everything

Miss Rarity

The most important thing you can learn about a new client is how long it’s been since their last session, so if I’m seeing somepony for the first time I’ll ask about their most recent visit to a spa. I do it once we’re alone but before I’ve started: it distracts them from any first-time anxiety and is likely to remind them of something they may have enjoyed. If it doesn’t, even better: they’ll bring up some of their preferences (and how and why they went unfulfilled) and I can work them into my method.

Most importantly, the answer to this question is usually a good indicator of what kind of customer somepony is going to be. When I asked Miss Rarity, for example, she was answering before I even finished, and I almost had to leave the room to calm down.

“Oh dear, oh dear. I couldn’t possibly tell you, darling. Much, much, much too long, my limbs are positively aching and my face is just a puffy mess, it’s completely humiliating… and my hooves! I can’t even bring myself to think how long it’s been since they’ve been touched, much less trimmed by a professional, but longer than I ever plan to allow again. Oh, and my hair? Have you seen my mane and tail? Well, I can brush them as much as I like, but they still—”

I’ll probably never get an answer this good again. When I told Lotus about it she thought I was making it up. Then she did Miss Rarity’s next appointment.

Since then she’s been one of our favorite clients. There are a few things that make her so: Miss Rarity is a talker, and the day she delivered that little speech she looked stunning. Nearly perfect. It was like we’d stumbled into an orchard that filled with trees perpetually bearing fruit. She does keep us busy, and if I didn’t run a spa I would probably have guessed Miss Rarity would be a lot of work as a customer, but the truth is far nicer.

Miss Rarity did all the hard work before she even arrived. She was sold on us from the moment she walked through our doors, admiring everything from the bright décor to the whiteness of our towels, complementing Lotus and I on our appearance and pointing out one or two little details about both of us (which was quite flattering, considering how similar we are). All she left for us to do is the easy stuff. Our specialties.

Now Miss Rarity is a pony who cares deeply about the way others perceive her. I think she gets some of her treatments because she sees them as sophisticated and not necessarily because she enjoys them. She buys without prompt or suggestion. We offer her discounts, yes, but only a few make it through her impenetrable wall of politeness. Part of it has to do with her personality, but I think it might also have to do with her job.

I knew from her first visit that she was a dressmaker and fashion designer. She has a few idiosyncrasies and a lot of opinions about her industry, and I know them all. This isn’t because I follow fashion myself or spy on her (I don’t), but because I listen: talkative clients make things really, really easy when it comes to helping them relax, and Miss Rarity just dumps out her saddlebags every time I see her. She tells you everything you need to know if you want to make her feel calm.

The thing is, not everypony has the same talent for listening that my sister and I do, and we noticed something big. Okay, Lotus was the one who noticed it, but I realized too before she finished!

What she pointed out was that when Miss Rarity comes for an irregular visit she just gets a sauna, a bath, and a massage. Maybe a mud bath or seaweed wrap. She spends more time talking than normal, if that’s possible, and she only talks about her clients. Always, always the insufferable ones.

This is something we can relate to.

We occasionally need to fire bad clients, even though we aren’t usually fully booked: some ponies are just more trouble and take up more time than their bits are worth. But when that similarity occurred to us, we started thinking more and more about the nature of our businesses, and discovered an interesting parallel. At best, ponies visit Miss Rarity with abstract expectations and a vague understanding of what will satisfy them. There’s usually a disconnect between the value they perceive and the amount she charges, and when they have complaints about her work—justified or not—they blame her.

Familiar, right? Change nothing but the characters and it’s a story about us. I know ponies come to the spa to relieve stress, but for Miss Rarity I think the stress relief works on another level. The treatments and pampering are part of it, but she visits us when she’s feeling down so she can be a good client.

Not many ponies are like Miss Rarity. It takes a special kind of worker to spend all day dealing with deadbeat customers and remain dedicated to the success of their projects. It takes a whole new level of special to choose to deal with all that stress and anxiety in the way she does. She’s coming to us and being patient, amiable, and kind—I’ll say it, she’s a perfect client—because it’s her way of spiting her own insensitive customers.

Or so my sister and I think. Whatever the case, we started working twice as hard for her after we realized this: it’s not easy to see yourself in somepony and not empathize with their problems. One day we’re both going to buy the most amazing dresses she can design for us, and pay exactly what they're worth. Miss Rarity deserves customers as good as she is.

Although she visits us more frequently than anypony, she isn’t our best paying customer. She pays very, very well, but that honor still goes to… well, I’ll write about that later. On private visits Miss Rarity does accept a specialized service, and I’m sure ours isn’t the first spa she’s frequented for it. She never made any move to stop us when we shifted her limbs into vulnerable positions, and the way she asked about our scope of treatments makes me think she was looking for something familiar. In her case, Lotus is the one who made the first move.

I was detailing the hooves on her forelimbs and my sister was massaging her hind legs. We briefly made eye contact, and since Miss Rarity’s face didn’t hold any tension, I switched hooves and nodded once.

It is critical never to change pace or intensity in these few moments. If you’re filing, a shift in the sound or vibration will give away your awareness of what we all know is happening. It takes a lot to get somepony relaxed but only a little to set them on edge again, and overt self-consciousness is the last thing that will make anypony feel comfortable. I kept my file moving steadily while my sister worked her way up Miss Rarity’s hindquarters, rhythmically shifting her weight between her limbs, earth magic sensing and plying at the flesh beneath her shiny coat as she came back over her cutie marks. Lotus was putting a lot of weight on her hooves, and even from in front I could see how slack Miss Rarity’s muscles had gone beneath my sister’s ministrations.

Then I looked at her face, splitting my attention between the file in my mouth and the little movements of her cheeks and lipsn. Although her eyelids stayed closed, one of her eyebrows had lifted and her ears had perked up, swiveling away from me. She was still relaxed, but little tugs at her eyelashes showed a sudden interest mixed with anticipation and uncertainty, like she wasn’t sure if her assumption was correct.

Onset of acute awareness of contact, check.

Lotus had worked her way inside and out of Miss Rarity’s hind legs again and was now moving back over her flanks, hooves eventually meeting above Miss Rarity’s tail. If she were the kind of pony who let it swish thoughtlessly then Miss Rarity would probably have been doing so now, but as it was she just let it twitch from one side to the other every few beats as the pressure on her rump peaked in intensity. The way she styles her hair doesn’t really let it lie limp, so the end was just hanging off the table in a big swirl, twitching all at once when she let it.

By her third pass Lotus was digging into Miss Rarity’s cutie marks with her hooves and her tail was rising and falling—almost imperceptibly, but visibly—every few seconds. Anticipation was written all over her face now, but the earlier uncertainty had been supplanted by something like impatience. Her brow was tightened, her jaw muscles were tensed in a soft bite, and her lips were jammed shut, which I imagine meant ‘get on with it, please’.

I raised my eyebrows in an attempt to pass on the message. The next time she worked up the inside of Miss Rarity’s leg, Lotus didn’t break for her hindquarters. I lost sight of her hoof but I still saw her blue foreleg flexing, and I could watch her progress in the vanishing impatience on Miss Rarity’s face. Soon my sister’s movement changed: the pressure in her leg was directed along the length of Miss Rarity’s still-glistening body rather than sideways. Miss Rarity lifted herself a bit and her tail went as well, brushing Lotus’s chest.

Our snow-white client only remained at ease for a moment. Her lips parted and she moaned a little, but it was more of a noncommittal, take-it-or-leave-it sigh than the whine of pleasure we were looking for. One of her big, shiny eyes opened and stared straight at me.

“Lotus Blossom?” Miss Rarity said, overdoing her charming, beau monde accent just a little. I let my attention slip back to her hoof.

“Yes Miss Rarity?” My sister answered innocently.

Miss Rarity took her time to work out what she wanted to say, especially considering what was happening to her body—Lotus’s foreleg was still flexing—and though I don’t recall exactly what it ended up being I think it was something like this:

“Please don’t take this the wrong way, dear. Your hooves are truly magic—as are yours, Aloe, I don’t play favorites—but you ought to know… how should I put this… forgive me for being so forward, but I’m the kind of filly for whom a professional mouth would do a great deal more…” She opened her other eye then and lifted her head to watch me file her hoof, all of our attention fixed on the quiet scraping. “That is, if either of your mouths are in that profession...”

My sister stopped moving. Her expressions are easy to read since they’re essentially the same as mine: she tilted her head to the side and her pink hair dangled at an odd angle, which is what she does when she’s mildly—but agreeably—surprised, then sucked her lower lip between her teeth. Her wide eyes just stared at me, satisfied at how easy that had been.

She removed her hoof and stepped backwards onto the floor.

“No? Well, never mind then.” Disappointment rang was clear in Miss Rarity’s voice, and her eyes stayed fixed on my file while she spoke. “Forget I asked. I think that hoof’s done, dear, but could you start on my horn?” She closed her eyes. Lotus was propped up over her midsection almost as soon as she’d shut them, and they sprang right back open. “Lotus? Is that you?”

“Miss Rarity, forgive me, but I must either move you closer to the edge, or you must lie on your back.”

Now, I may have been taking my time with the file, but I’m so happy I got to see Miss Rarity’s eyes shrink when she realized how much more appealing her circumstances had become. It’s lucky I had a tool in my mouth or my sister’s enormously smug grin would have proven contagious. The foreleg under my face stiffened with the rest of her body before Miss Rarity shimmied backwards nervously. Lotus stopped her with a gentle touch to her flank, and she resumed her resting position.

I finally stopped filing. Miss Rarity’s breathing was shallow and paced. It sounded manual. Good. Conscious breathing is something we taught her to calm herself, so I assume she must have been trying to level off her excitement.

Having elected to remain on her front, she bent her rear legs upward so that they weren’t dangling off the table. She didn’t close her eyes now, but set her head down again and let her dark hair obscure them.

Lotus was gesturing impatiently at the supplies on the tray. She wanted me to do Miss Rarity’s horn as well. I wasn’t finished with her hooves—they needed painting, among other things—but I switched files anyway.

I’m not sure why they were both staring at me when I turned around. It was a bit funny actually, they looked half like I’d walked in and startled them and half like I was holding up the show. Miss Rarity made sense—my sister had moved her tail and she looked pretty decisively exposed—but for some reason Lotus was waiting as well.

I had to stretch to reach her horn. She was resting her head upright now, chin on her forelegs. Lotus arranged herself very carefully, wrapping her forelegs around Miss Rarity’s rear ones, resting her hooves just below her rump. She was staring dead ahead with the focus of a surgeon but the glee of a filly in a candy shop. Miss Rarity’s attention might have been elsewhere, but she must have sensed me looming over her because she peeked up and found my open eyes. I hadn’t been motionless long but she still prompted me with a strained instruction and failed badly at sounding aloof. I guess she was still nervous.

“Go ahead Aloe. It’s fi—”

She made it no further. Her eyes shot open and started fluttering closed again immediately. Setting her head down very delicately, she exhaled what must have been all the air in her body and tried unsuccessfully to draw another full breath, managing only a few short spasms.

Yeah, you can try to talk through this like it’s just another treatment if you want, but Lotus probably isn’t going to let you.

I started on her horn, more gently than usual. Miss Rarity’s is reasonably sensitive, but not so much as many others, so I was careful not to distract her and just kept the sensation complementary. It’s actually really interesting why horns need filing: how they were used physically ages ago and became accustomed to wearing down. There’s a lot of variation between them with regards both to sensitivity and the need for upkeep: no other component of equine anatomy is so influenced by the unpredictability of magic. For several other clients it’s a much bigger deal.

It’s probably worth writing what I thought when Miss Rarity made her little request. I may not remember it entirely, but the bit about being a ‘filly for whom a professional mouth would do a great deal more’ stuck with me. Actually, it would have made me roll my eyes if she hadn’t been looking at me when she said it.

The thing is, every mare from here to Cloudsdale is that kind of filly. No matter how strong or skilled they are (with the exception, perhaps, of my sister and I), hooves and legs don’t feel nearly as good as a mouth unless you’re in such a tangle of limbs that the contact is inadvertent and frantic, in which case your mouth is probably preoccupied anyway! Now that’s not necessarily a bad thing from our point of view. In the context of being a patient visiting a practitioner, most ponies don’t want to seek out more than what is offered, and hooves are about as far as things can be comfortably taken without shattering the illusion. But that method is so detached and clinical that it can take a while. Mares aren’t colts, and getting them up to the ideal level of quivering hysteria is a delicate process. Getting them to come back down can be pretty hard too.

But I must confess to underestimating how much difference Miss Rarity considered encompassed by ‘a great deal more’. Everything considered, I’ve never seen anypony respond so readily to lip service. It wasn’t until after a few seconds of conspicuous silence—where the only noises drowning out what little, wet sounds Lotus was making were my file and Miss Rarity’s challenged breathing—that she gave the first sign of being slightly more sensitive to this than most.

Her eyelids abruptly squeezed tight and all the strain in her body was released with a panicked squawk. Next thing I knew, she was whimpering and squirming and barely able to control herself. Her back hooves, still in the air above my sister’s head, were trembling like they weren’t quite convinced they belonged under her command any longer. By reverting to frantic, desperate breathing she just managed to keep the tension from building up again for a while, but eventually her body denied her any further pretense of reservation.

She went rigid, groaning, almost growling, probably trying not to scream. I almost screamed myself when her foreleg shot out and pinned mine violently against the padded table, holding it there with impressive ferocity. She started rubbing the side of her face against the table and I had to stop filing her horn, but since I was trapped by her leg I couldn’t withdraw. Lotus had one of Miss Rarity’s legs wrapped around the back of her head now, and if Miss Rarity was using the kind of force on her that she was on me then my sister was certainly stuck. I remember hoping she could breathe okay. It was really quite a sight, even if it was short-lived.

Her flesh jittered, muscles convulsing under her glossy coat, tightening and going slack again with no discernible pattern. She looked intoxicated, her face was drawn except for her eyes, eager sighs being clipped with every breath. The limb crushing my own—the only physical connection I maintained to what was happening before me—didn’t move. Soon she stopped making noises completely and the tension started staying in her wherever it returned. Her breathing stopped.

Watching her face was fun. The rest of her was so tight and motionless, if you startled her I’m sure she would have exploded hilariously with confused fury. Only her mouth and nose still betrayed her state—both squished like her eyes, but twitching and quivering—her jaw muscles flexing, her tongue pushing up against the back of her lips. She was obviously really close.

Lotus started teasing her. Miss Rarity's face would freeze for a second and she would hold her breath, right on the brink, just before being pulled back. Then she would exhale as much as she could manage, air whistling in and out of her nostrils while she kept her lips pressed tight, until her breathing sped up and she abruptly stopped. Lotus held her right there on the edge, and yanked her back every time.

Until she didn’t. Just after she wrenched her away from the brink on the fourth or fifth cycle, while Miss Rarity released her shakiest breath yet and steeled herself to quickly recover, Lotus shoved her as far past her limit as she could.

Miss Rarity, to her credit, did not scream when she climaxed. She yelped, once, then went totally silent and still for what must have been an unimaginably pleasurable moment, before her free hind leg jerked once and ripped her back to reality.

Then she screamed.

Through her nose, to be fair. Her lower lip was sucked all the way into her mouth, but it was still loud. She was quivering like a leaf; in her legs, mostly, but everywhere from her tail to her neck too. Finally she released me, but kept her twitching limb on mine while she came down. I think my Fluttershy trick would have helped her calm down right then but it probably would have been too confusing for her. At any rate, Lotus didn’t detach herself until Miss Rarity stopped shaking and whimpering like she’d just galloped to Canterlot and back. When she did withdraw, she found me watching her and smirked.

You look impressed.

With her, obviously. Don’t look so smug.

Come on, that wasn’t even five minutes!

She hasn’t for a while, I think. And we’re new to her, the first time is always more exciting. Still, that was unusually fast.

Yeah, well she’s unusually sensitive to that. And she’s excitable, that’s certain. You’ll have to try next, I don’t think this will be her last visit.

I looked at Miss Rarity’s face. She wasn’t moving anymore and there was no anxiety left in any of her features. She'd just... melted.

Yeah, this wasn’t going to be her last visit.

I still needed to work on her horn but it didn’t feel right to jerk her out of the calm that had come over her, and anyways Lotus managed that by herself when she reached between her legs with a damp towel. It couldn’t have been cold—my sister would never do that—but she reacted like it was made of ice, and that put an end to the mild, informal affection that she’d let surface.

Again we became specialists with a patient, and the change was a little jarring to her.

I think she wanted to say something. She looked satisfied, but cheerless considering her previous high. Just staring straight ahead, she didn’t move at all while Lotus toweled her, and when Lotus was done she just deflated and let her rump fall. Sometime during the procedure her breathing evened out.

I dismounted and busied myself with the tray of tools. Lotus caught my eye for a moment, then left. It was just me now, coaxing some benign noises out of our files and brushes. Eventually I heard Miss Rarity slip off the table. She trembled a little where she stood, and we both eyed the horn file I’d left on the edge of the table-cum-bed.

I find it very easy to resume my casual, slightly-flirty smile when something has surprised me or an unsettling truth about a client slips out—appearing uncomfortable does nothing for a client’s comfort, and I am a professional after all—so I’m sure I could have been photographed for an advertisement right then, but Miss Rarity made no move to soften her expression. The first time is always the worst. In the midst of things, nopony could possibly be expected to consider the fact that they’d need to be looking Lotus or I in the eye within a few minutes, or have something to say when they were. They certainly won’t want to talk about it. Whether we’re their first or their fiftieth, they always forget.

“Well, Aloe,” she began. “That was a bit—”

“Yes, Miss Rarity?”

“…Consuming.” She said. I nodded and made for the file, thinking to put it away. “Oh, let’s not dear. I can’t. Where is Lotus?”

“Lotus Blossom just stepped out, Miss Rarity.” You don’t need to see her right now, she just traded your peace of mind today so that it can more easily be instilled in the future. Your next visit will be easier, and by the one after that you’ll be smiles all the way through. I’ve seen it before, the outlandishness vanishes and once it does, this will feel commonplace, and even more—as you put it—consuming. She’ll stay once this becomes routine.

It wasn’t an easy sentiment to convey. The message under my words was there, but Miss Rarity didn’t look comforted. “She had another booking.” I settled on.

Miss Rarity nodded, still shy, looking at me with her head slightly bowed and her ears flattened. I guess I did just watch her take her first plunge in a very clandestine pool, but fueling her uncertainty with awkwardness and self-consciousness would be unprofessional. I just waited patiently.

“I suppose my appointment is over, isn’t it.” She said. It wasn’t a question.

“I’m afraid so, Miss Rarity.”

“My account is—”

“Backed by excellent credit.”

She smiled a little, gratefully. “I see. Can I… have a moment.”

“Of course, Miss Rarity.” We look forward to your next visit.

I was just out the door when she called me back, earnestness just slipping into her voice. “Aloe?”

“Miss Rarity?” I turned to face her, smiling again. I’d been hoping for a chance to fix my hair for a while. My hair band had been slipping since before her appointment and was getting really annoying, so I tossed it back and Miss Rarity did a bad job of not gazing at me like a puppy. I guess I do look a lot like another mare who had just made a pretty big impact on her, so it’s understandable.

She caught herself staring and looked up at the ceiling. “Let’s extend my appointments from now on. However long you think necessary.”

For once I let some cheek slip into my smile, stepping out of my role a little since she’d apparently found hers. “Yes, Miss Rarity.”

She blushed and tried her best to restore her indifference. “And if you two are hiding any other tricks up your sleeves, you’d better not be. Hiding them, I mean…” I quirked an eyebrow as she struggled to recover from her stumble. “What I mean is that we’ll be discussing my treatment regimen next time.”

I nodded, still smiling. “Until then, Miss Rarity.”

She showed herself out. My sister was in an empty room near the counter, lounging on a mat and reading one of her magazines. She didn’t look at me until I prompted her.

“Well, Lotus,” I said.

“Well… Aloe?” She answered.

“Whatever you did, it’s on the schedule now.”

She didn’t exactly smile, she just looked at me like she was considering the next move she would take in a board game she was winning. “You’re next.”

I nodded. “Double-book yourself and I’ll go.”

“Keep it professional.”

“Oh yeah?” I moved close enough that she had to look up at me. “What was that all about? You denied her at least five times!”

“Calm down, Aloe,” She said, tail swishing conceitedly. “I barely had time to do anything, she was so eager. I can see why she felt awkward after, she didn’t restrain herself at all.”

I stared at my sister until she went back to her magazine, then sat and finally fixed my hair properly. “Why do you think she’s like that?” I asked.

Lotus shut her eyes, then looked at me. “I don’t know. I’m not sure if she likes mares at all.”

“I was watching her mouth.” I said.

“Yeah? You think she has an oral fixation?”

“That could be part of it.” It would be a good explanation, and it isn’t that unusual. The mouth is especially sensitive—to temperature and touch as well as taste—and if her preference for sensing with her mouth and face was abnormally powerful then it was reasonable to think her mind went straight to that orifice when she thought about sex. “Maybe. I’ll try to work it out next time. If she does, it’s unusually strong.”

“I’ll say." Lotus said, flipping through a few pages. "I think she might have been chewing the quill when she was filling out her forms, now that you mention it. Anyways, next appointment?”

“Not for an hour. I’m going to eat.”

“Sure. Oh," Lotus stopped me before I made it out. "Keep your hooves on her legs or she’ll surprise you, and don’t expect to be let up for air.” I rolled my eyes. “Fine, Aloe. I warned you.”

When Miss Rarity next visited and I was the only one guiding her to the bath, her uncertain gait betrayed her suspicions. I didn’t point anything out until she was soaking in the hot water and I was about to start on her horn. She wasn’t speaking as much as usual. In fact, she wasn’t speaking at all.

“I must apologize, Miss Rarity. I’ll have to work alone today. I booked Lotus Blossom another appointment by mistake, so please consider any overrun complementary.”

She took a long time to respond. Eventually she rested her forelegs on the lip of the sunken bath, stretching outwards with a yawn. “Double-booked?”

“I’m afraid so, yes.”

“I see.” She splashed the water gently with her hoof, the ripples hypnotizing both of us. “And you’ll be able to complete everything?”

I pulled back and caught her staring at me in the mirror, and she looked back at the water, blushing. “If you’re in a hurry, I can prioritize—”

“I didn’t mean to suggest—”

“Your hooves don’t need to be trimmed, Miss Rarity, and we obviously won’t penalize you if you decide to postpone that treatment in favor of another.” I went back to her horn without waiting for her to respond.

“I see.” She said. She was quiet again, but I could see her eyes shifting between her hooves in the mirror. She made a habit of chewing her lips when she was distracted, and licked them quickly when they were released. “Aloe?”

“Yes, Miss Rarity?”

Turning to face me, she twisted through the water and sent ripples radiating outwards. “I haven’t seen my bill.”

Impressively for how antsy she was, Miss Rarity managed to look me in the eye, her own face framed by her straight, sodden mane. I bit my tongue and licked my upper lip with practiced obliviousness, and her attention fell to my mouth. As expected.

“Lotus Blossom offered a price, yes. But I think you would prefer this discussion before your next visit.” Miss Rarity looked like she would prefer to have it now.

“What is it?”

Now, in all the time since then, we’ve never actually told her what we regularly charge for this. Lotus suggested billing her at the usual first-tier rate—what we would have charged if we never went beyond our hooves—and I think it was a fair decision. If we did bill her normally it would take her a lot closer to becoming our top-paying client, but still not quite. Besides, she was easy to keep satisfied and she paid plenty for the rest of her services. I played with my tongue a bit more. You can guess where she was looking.

“I can tell you if you want, but we will only charge you at a rate we all agree on. You need not let these worries interfere with your enjoyment today.” Or indeed any day.

Miss Rarity settled back in against the wall of the bath, still uncertain and staring at me in the mirror. “Aloe, you’ve never withheld a price from me before. I may not usually ask, and it’s not really about the money—”

“I know.”

“So perhaps I should ask you something else.” I set down my file and she looked over her neck so we could see each other directly. “I trust you, so tell me: will I accept it?”

In the mirror I could see myself smile as carefree a smile as anypony ever has, and I was reminded of my favorite thing about being pink: it’s impossible to tell when I’m blushing.

I nodded.

Then she was out of the bath and dripping everywhere, mane and tail twisted into little bunches of wet hair. The big towel I used to dry her was incredibly heavy by the time she was just barely glistening, and everywhere I touched her, rubbing her coat back into smooth perfection, I felt her fretful impatience. She was trying to hold something in.

“Is there… enough time for a massage?” she asked hopefully as I was wrapping her mane in a towel.

“Yes, Miss Rarity.”

“A full one, though?”

Yes, there was. I bit my lip. “That could be difficult.” She followed me to the table, her eyes still on my face.

“I couldn’t rush you, you know.”

“I’ll do as much as I can, Miss Rarity. Unless you’re in a rush?”

On the table she didn’t need to look at me, and the words flowed. “Well, there is something I was hoping to get a head start on…”

Celestia, she was eager. I remember hoping this would die down, but for now it was clear she wasn’t going to be able to sit through a massage. I wrapped her tail in a heavy bundle of warm towel, then laid it aside. She deserved a way out. “Let’s let your mane and tail dry so I can brush them, and we can reschedule the rest.”

“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble…”

“Not at all.” And while we wait, let’s see what my sister was talking about. I may have been in the room watching everything happen, but it had still been completely passive. Sure, it was exciting, but no matter how many times you’ve had your hooves on somepony or what you’ve seen them go through, there’s a level of personal involvement that doesn’t surface until you’re doing something like staring straight down their hind legs with your head between their hooves. Miss Rarity’s white limbs were thin at the edge of my vision and grew more shapely until they reached her body. I could see the edges of her cutie mark on her trembling flanks, and the purple base of her tail where it was swallowed up by the wet towel. Then I moved in until nothing was left for me to see.

My talent largely depends on reading and responding to cues. Some of these are superficial surface indicators that are completely obvious. Others are not as easy to interpret (for other ponies anyways), and others would not be apparent without the help of earth magic. Phrasing it like that is bad since it makes it sound like some kind of special power, which it isn't at the surface, it's really just a matter of being... really, really good, I guess.

So at the obvious level, she was aroused. Her coat was still damp from the bath—I recognized the scented oils I had added to the water—but there was no way to mistake it: she was soaked. Whether because of some latent attraction to my sister or I or just anticipation in general, something was provoking an unprecedented response from her and it didn’t take long for it to work. That kind of slick glossiness is impossible to mistake for water.

At the less-easy-to-interpret level, the tension never left her body despite that. This was a problem when Lotus did this the first time: the tightness in her muscles was not just a physiological response to desire and enjoyment, there was real uncertainty and anxiety there. At this point it occured to me that Lotus might have been trying to tease her the first time because she wanted her to release some of it.

Now at the earth magic level, I already knew what the problem was. If you had to guess, you might say she was trying to vicariously satisfy the desire for someone else and found us unfulfilling surrogates, or she was just uncomfortable with her desires in general and might feel guilty for pursuing the,. You might even think she resented her sensitivity, or the fact that she had to expose it to us.

My conclusion was something else entirely. She remained on her front. She wanted her other treatments to continue. She knew how she would respond to us, but didn’t see it as outside the scope of our services. However, that response might have made it seem like she did, and I think she was worried about seeming unprofessional, of slipping out of her role. She felt, in short, like she was being a bad client. She didn’t explode with glee when we painted her hooves, and she never softened past a level of comfortable indifference when we massaged her. I think she didn’t want this to feel personal, even though we all knew it wasn’t.

Fortunately, there’s a fix for that. And apart from being effective, it's also very fun.

“Miss Rarity?” I asked. Her legs went rigid under my hooves, as I expected. She wasn’t anticipating a sound from me, she didn’t want to talk.

“Yes?” She said softly.

I didn’t move my head, so I was still very close to her, and since I could sense the heat in her body I knew she wouldn’t be able to ignore the heat of my breath if I spoke, and most importantly that it would remind her where I was. “Before I begin, do you have any… preferences?”

“Um," she started, tense, but still. "Preferences?”

“Yes, preferences. That is the word, yes? Hmm… predilections?” Just like you do for every other treatment you get? A long list of just so conditions that must be met to the letter if you're going to be satisfied?

The question obviously surprised her, distracting her from whatever she found unsettling by forcing her to think about something else. That was the desired effect: confusion. “Aloe," she began, "you know predilections, but not preferences? How is that—”

“I know them both.”

"Oh," she said. “Well, I’m… I’m not sure, actually. I don’t really know how to answer that. Aside from what I already mentioned, that I like...” She paused, and only mumbled the last word. “…tongue.”

“Tongues, you like? You said ‘mouth’ before.”

“I… I meant that.” She still didn’t want to talk about it.

Too bad.

“No, this is good Miss Rarity. It is best you are as specific as you can be. I would be glad to know your preferences.” I said it the same way I would have said weaknesses, and hoped she got the message.

“I’m… sorry, Aloe. I’ve never thought to describe them before. I could say, well, no... hmm...”

I knew it. This was a problem. She didn’t treat this the way she saw her other services, even though they were the same in her mind. Miss Rarity never had trouble articulating her other desires.

It may be a little arrogant, but when it comes to Miss Rarity I think of myself as half-subcontractor and half-goddess: I can easily find out what she wants regardless of what she says, and do it. But just because I know what she wants before she even tells me doesn’t mean she’ll be comfortable with it if I give it to her. It’s unnerving for somepony to have all of their desires fulfilled before they have the chance to sense them, and Miss Rarity has never been a passive participant in her own care.

“Miss Rarity, perhaps I can suggest something that will make this much more enjoyable for you.”

She actually turned around and looked at me like I had just suggested the impossible. I stared back at her over her rump. “More enj… really!" she started before cutingt herself off. "I mean, really? What do you mean?”

“When I begin, I want you to tell me how you feel. If you want me to do something else, or keep doing something, say so.”

“Um, Aloe—”

“And, you must be as clear as possible. You said tongue just now, right? How about lips?” Miss Rarity blushed, but soon nodded hesitantly. “Okay, then say so. Bring up anything that comes to mind.” And with that, I moved in, exhaling hot air until the moment I made contact.

She tensed immediately. I flattened my tongue and dragged it over her sticky skin a few times, not forcibly or roughly, just until my talent gave me a feel for where her sensitivity was focused. Even though I expected the heat behind her core it still surprised me: her skin was scorching and slick with scalding, clingy, conductive fluid. A shudder rolled through her body even though I had made no attempt to please her, and she squeezed me gently between her legs. Not to let any response slip by unacknowledged, I encouraged the gesture with my own hooves, pushing her legs against my head even more tightly.

One of the most jarring things that always takes a few seconds to overcome is the initial contact. Our minds spend so much time preoccupied with the subject that when it’s really happening it almost never feels right. We’re so convinced we should know how it will feel, and when it doesn’t feel that way the only recourse is alarm. That alarm is always powerful enough—at least for a second—to distract us from delight.

But delight always wins out. Under a few strengthening strokes of my tongue, broad, flat, and unfocused, she started to relish the texture and began timing the flexing of her legs to my rhythmic licking. She still didn’t interrupt me or say anything, so once she was used to this I slid further down, probing gently and dragging my lips over her nethers lazily, resting my tongue along the wet edges of her burning flesh, and right where her skin folded in on itself I found a spot I had detected earlier, a twisted knot of enflamed nerves, and I pushed past it, just once, just a little. She squeezed her legs harder and her frictionless skin invited me further, beckoned me deeper, promised even more fluid heat with evry easy millimeter, but I nonetheless withdrew and resumed my earlier pattern.

“Nggg… Aloe…” She held her breath. “No, no. Do. That. Again...”

I smiled and made sure she could feel it. That’s better. Here? I flicked my tongue quickly over her, conspicuously far from where she wanted.

“No, before... up…”

Oh, here? I started to approach the spot again.

“Hah, further, just a little… higher…!” She said, her voice rising as I got closer.

Right here? I hit it, and licked with twice the strength I had before.

“There! Yes, do… right there! Thaaaaat!”

Good little filly. That feels better, right?

She may not have meant to be answering me, but she might as well have been.“Yes, yes Yes YES! Now deeper, and… up, I guess? Ohhh, nngperfect, Aloe…”

To reward her for her cooperation I resumed my preferred intensity, and as long as she kept talking I let my talent guide my mouth. In a way I was leading her to say what she did, finding what she liked so I could point it out and she could ask for it, but that’s not what mattered. She never had to know, and in a weird, but totally foreseeable way it reminded her that she didn’t need to be passive in this relationship. She was paying for it, after all.

Like my sister had warned me, my head was eventually kicked deeper into her groin and pinned there, but in response I just shoved my face further and waited for her to ask for that too. She did, of course.

“Oh, perfect! Harder, push, just… Push! Oh, Celestia that… feels… so… goooooood!”

It sounded like she had started grindingher teeth together. She was groaning too, so she wasn’t going to be able to talk much longer. It was fun to listen to her try to find the words to keep me going and see them slip away one after another, but I decided to finish her quickly. We’d mapped out most of her preferred spots and the ways to treat them best, but I don’t think anything did as much for her as the feeling of a wriggling tongue doing unmistakably tongue-like things: squirming, effortlessly shifting from limp to rigid, flat to pointed, bending every which way and into all manner of connections with her scattered, sensitive nerves. My lips I kept pinned against her, moving to remind her they were there, always keeping her focus from resting on one thing for too long. Eventually it became too much.

She screamed for real this time. High pitched, then noiselessly, then again, more loudly, until she ran out of air and had to force a shaky breath. Her legs locked around my head tightly—not uncomfortably, but I couldn’t have stayed that way for long—and she lifted her back up a bit, jerking against my face.

She released me as soon as she was down. It didn’t take her as long to catch her breath this time since she hadn’t been holding it so much, and I only waited a few seconds to begin talking.

“Was that more enjoyable, Miss Rarity?”

She turned and smiled at me incredulously. I’m not sure what I looked like, but I certainly wasn’t dry. “It was… good advice.” Her eyes closed and she set her head down. “It may surprise you, but I actually am in a bit of a hurry today.”

So I finished her appointment with a good brushing and some chatting, and by the time she left she was talking my head off.

Lotus and I both started working on Miss Rarity after that, alternating in providing her extended service with no particular pattern. Lotus brags about being quicker but I think my work with her is slightly more intense. We may never know, Miss Rarity seems to be serious about not playing favorites, and it’s probably for the best.

She also hasn’t expanded her treatment regimen past this. I don’t think she will, her attraction to us seems superficial (I know we’re good-looking, but it’s not just about that) and she’s never indicated a desire for more than what she’s been given. She still has one of us work on her horn, or hooves, or nails while the other handles her modest desires, at least until she can’t keep still, so I think we’ve locked in a stable pattern. She has no interest in the erotic subtext of anything else, whether massage, bathing, or personal contact. In a weird way it’s a little plain: she really just wants an augmented happy ending, and taking it further (I think she’d enjoy a tongue bath, for example, or having two at once, or one on her horn, or…) would put us well past the territory that her perspective—and the perspective of the realm—allocates to acceptable horseplay with the ponies you hire to bathe you.

I’m excited about the next chapter. This one was a little forced, but what I’ve written of the next one has been really fun.

Gonna be a little while until then though. I had this one almost ready when I published the last chapter and when I got so many favorites I decided to push through and finish it. First published Fimfic, so big thanks to all of you who made this a favorite, commented, and rated. Totally made my week. Did my best to edit but if any mistakes jump out at you, let me know.