The bell on the door of the Carousel Boutique jingled as Rarity closed it for the last time of the day. She turned a lock atop the handle to change the ‘open’ sign facing outside to ‘closed’, and let out a long sigh.

What a day.

It was one thing being the most talented seamstress in town—for that she had nopony to blame but herself—but it was entirely another thing to be also the busiest. One went hoof in hoof with the other, she supposed, but it didn’t leave her time for much else other than selling and sewing.

Maybe tonight she could take some time to relax.

Yes, that was a good idea, Rarity mused as she tidied up the last bits of the shop. As much as living where she worked sometimes caused a lack of separation in mind from personal life and business, it at least meant she didn’t have far to go when her evening was upon her. There was a nice, full-size bathtub only a minute away. She could spent an hour soaking, eating some of those nice imported chocolates Fluttershy had given her for her birthday, and then spend the remainder of the night lounging in her silk-sheets and mulling over a nice book.

She could...

No. She shouldn’t. She knew she shouldn’t. Draw the bath first, and that would wash away any unsavory thoughts about what to do with the rest of her evening.

Rarity smiled to herself as she walked to the bathroom. Yes, everything would feel much better after a nice bath. That was a certainty.

The steam wafting up from the bathtub wetted Rarity’s nose invitingly, and she breathed in the deep, refreshing ethereal scent of evaporated water before sloughing off her bathrobe. The water tingled against her hoof as she stepped into the bathtub, almost too hot, but not quite. She sighed as she slid forward into the deep pool of water, closing her eyes and leaning back, letting her well-coiffed mane hang just the ends into the water.

The water was heavenly. Rarity kept her eyes closed as she sunk deeper into the tub, until finally she was fully submersed, only the tip of her horn pointing above the water as she let the hot, relaxing feeling wash over every inch of her coat. It coaxed the tension from her sore hooves immediately, letting her feel like she was melting, or perhaps flying away on a cloud. She raised her head from the water and some of it cascaded down her face. Aside from the relaxing sensation, bathing always made her feel more like a lady. She kept her eyes closed and smiled as she imagined how beautiful she must look, lounging in her ornately built private paradise and letting her body lay bare for only herself to see.

If somepony was watching... if a gentlepony suitor was seated nearby, he’d no doubt be in a tussle with himself. Staring but caught up in wanting more, blustering and breathing heavy and drinking in every bit of her with his eyes. And, as he was watching, Rarity would let him know that she could see him too, nodding slowly as a lady did, but showing just a bit of herself above the water, perhaps turning to expose her hindquarters and giving him just a peek as she—

Rarity stopped herself, hoof firmly between her legs. She’d moved it without even thinking. Her eyes jerked open as she sat up in the bath, shaking her head and letting the drips of water fly from her nose back into the hot pool surrounding her.

There was no need to be thinking of things like that. She had the rest of her evening to relax, box of chocolates and novel besides, and she wasn’t about to ruin her perfect ladylike night by behaving so profanely.

She noticed then that she hadn’t moved her hoof. Her lips swelled against it, aching for her to move again.

With a start, Rarity hauled her forelegs above the water. She pulled the plug of the bath with a quick flash of her horn, and within an instant was out, drying herself off with a set of fluffy towels. Her bathrobe floated up to meet her as she shook her head off a final time, her mane returning to its natural wavy bob.

Yes, chocolate next. It would go well with her book, and a good plot would leave no room in her head for bothersome wanderings. Smiling to herself, Rarity left the bathroom and made her way to bed, where her book and a box of imported chocolate were waiting for her.

The silk sheets were almost as wonderful as the bath had been. Rarity cooed as she settled into them, snuggling up against her delicate pillows. The box of chocolates was to her right, finding its own little space against the blankets. Even from looking at them, the chocolates seemed exquisite: far more intricate and well-made than anything in Ponyville, certainly. It wasn’t that Pinkie didn’t try, bless her soul, but Rarity had more elegant tastes. She was glad Fluttershy had a good eye for these things as well.

Settling up against her headboard with pillows resting under the small of her back, Rarity lifted a chocolate from the box with a glow of her horn. She held it in the air as she picked up her book: The Tempest of the Stallion Shores. She’d left it halfway several nights ago and hadn’t had the time to come back to it. It was a bit cliche, yes, but she had a soft spot for those lovely romantic tales, where passion was everything, and she could lose herself. Taking a bite of her chocolate—salted on top, with a fruit-garnish inside, delicious—Rarity turned to her bookmarked page and began to read.

Ah, yes, this part. At last, the two lovers had been brought together when separated by so much circumstance, and could finally be free of their society’s oppression. Truly, love was a beautiful thing.

Rarity munched on another chocolate—a truffle, by the taste of it. As she read, she shuffled slightly under the blankets, wiggling in her bathrobe. It seemed a tad too hot to leave on, but she was so comfortable, she didn’t really care to adjust herself any further. And this part of the book was so good. Here, the stallion and the mare came into each other’s embrace, and shared their first kiss, and then their second, and third...

As Rarity read on, she reached the part her bookmark had truly dictated, and remembered the last time she’d put the book down.

Well, that sort of thing was natural in these kind of novels. It had to be left in for the less discerning audiences, ponies who had no flare for romance and simply wanted something to amuse themselves with. Rarity skimmed over a few sentences before setting the book down and eating another chocolate.

She could skip past it, if need be. Though... there was a certain, awful thrill to reading it. It made her remember her own lover, many summers ago, when he had swept her off her feet and brought her into a world of bliss...

Oh. And there it was again. Rarity clenched her hindlegs together as she noticed her hoof between them. The softness of her bathrobe was slick against her stomach, and she lifted it out of the way absentmindedly as she began to run her hoof down again, slowly, gently between her legs.

Well... surely there was no harm in indulging herself a little. It would certainly help her get to sleep, in any case. And she had such a fond memory to go back to. Her first lover, whom she had adored more than anything...

Rarity bit down on her lower lip as her hoof moved, touching lightly against the most sensitive part of her body just above her rapidly moistening marehood. There was no need to rush, she had all night.

She remembered everything about him still, including how much it had hurt to lose him. How in every conduct, he had been the perfect gentlepony, waiting on her steadfastly, reading, in every instance, her demure nature, and how yes, it was important that they wait, that she wasn’t ready yet, but that she would be in time. He had been so nice, waiting, until finally, they had...

She remembered him. She couldn’t forget. That night, when they had become one, and Rarity had called his name next to the word love more times than she could count. She would remember that moment forever. She had refused to forget.

Rarity opened her eyes. They fell on the bottom drawer of her bedroom dresser, partially obscured across the room next to a layout of pillows and fancy carpeting.

She had been very insistent on remembering that night.

Rarity’s horn glowed and the drawer slid open, displacing several pillows in the process. With a soft shuffle, a wooden box flew forth from the drawer, the drawer closing shortly thereafter. Rarity lowered the box to the side of the bed, resting it gently next to the chocolates.

He had been so wonderful. She never wanted to forget him.

It was just as well then, that she had kept it. He was gone now, and there was no question about if ever he might return. He had been very insistent on that. Rarity sniffed up a tear as her horn glowed, opening a fine clasp on the front of the wooden box and pulling it open.

There. It. Him. That night.

She knew it was awful. Shameful, really, most unladylike to keep something so crass. But, in another way, it was very sweet of her, like a proper mare, doting on her stallion as much as he would let her. More than he would let her. It showed that, no matter what, she really and truly did love him, forever.

Rarity removed her hoof from between her legs and replaced it with her other. With her newly freed foreleg, damp at the end, she reached towards the box’s contents. Her foreleg shook as she touched it and lifted it up.

It was a very good brand. She had been sure of that. A night of firsts meant only the best.

The bit of him was still inside. Oh.

Rarity sighed as she raised the condom towards her. It was worn now, yellowing from age, if not from sunlight. She had been very careful to keep it hidden away, keeping it free from dust and debris and other such things that might make it unduly unclean. Still, there was only so long semen could last inside plastic, and as a result the whole of it had begun to sour. Her stallion’s essence, once, as she recalled, the purest white, now matched the shade of the condom and then some. Brown in spots, mostly yellow in others. It had a smell like a garbage truck.

But it was his smell.

Rarity bit her lip, then parted her mouth and inhaled deeply.

She could feel herself soak her silk sheets as the scent wafted across her palette. Her hoof abandoned its gentleness and began to rub, harder, circling around her clit and sliding up and down her rapidly moistening lips.

It was the one and only thing she had kept from him. She wasn’t sure, if faced with the choice of more, if she would have kept them in a similar fashion, but he’d taken the leisure of that decision from her. This was all he had left her...

She remembered the day he left. Standing in the doorway, cursing, her crying, and him saying how long he had waited. How patient he had been, and then for what? For months afterwards of nothing more? Things were supposed to be different after the first time. Rarity had screamed, protested, didn’t he understand he was a lady, and what that meant.

He had told her that she was no lady, and shut the door in her face, never to walk inside again.

But that wasn’t what she wanted to remember him for.

Rarity licked her lips. They were wet with her saliva as she pressed the condom to her mouth. She could taste it even without her tongue, the scent so powerful it covered every one of her senses. Her hoof began to schlick obscenely between her legs, but she blocked it out. There was no ‘now’’; there was only him, and that night, when she had given herself up completely, and the bit of him that would be hers forever to remember it.

She extended her tongue and licked along the aged plastic. The taste leapt down her throat, and her marehood clenched against her hoof. Oh, yes. She could remember him. How, even though it had hurt, she had loved every moment of it.

Wasn’t that enough, she had ask?

“I love you, dear,” she moaned to herself, to him, repeating the words that had graced her lips innumerable times, mumbling it into the flapping plastic against her lips. “You k-know that, d-don’t you?” Her words faltered as she rubbed, harder, frantic against herself, so wet she knew the bed must be soaked.

“Isn’t that... enough?” she asked, eyes closed, a trickle of tears leaking out. Tasting him on her tongue. She raised the condom and took a part of it into her mouth, sucking. A tiny hint of him, just for tonight. She needed it.

A bit of the brownish-yellow glob oozed up out of the distended prophylactic and onto her tongue. Rarity moaned loud, and caught the condom with her free hoof as it fell from her mouth.

“Don’t you... love me too?” she asked, half-sobbed. The tears had started in earnest now, but that was fine, she had cried the first time too, and that was fine also, because he knew it meant she loved him, of course she loved him, she would never stop loving him, couldn’t forget how much she loved him...

Rarity’s body shuddered as she came. Her hoof froze between her legs, and the sour musk of her once-lover’s load trickling down her throat as she drenched her silk-sheets and hoof next to them. The taste of salted chocolate mixed with the years-old cum, and became almost vaguely sweet in her stomach.

Her chest heaved as she breathed, loud and heavy. Hoof shaking, she set the condom back in its case. Her other hoof shook as well as she drew it up from between her legs, her well-shorn fetlock dripping with the juice of her climax. She raised it to her mouth for a moment, her lips parting in contemplation—but an instant away, her eyes snapped open, seeming to remember, and she pulled her hoof away.

No, that was enough. No need to be unladylike.

With a curt snap the case was shut, and Rarity’s horn glowed as she floated it back to its drawer. She adjusted the pillows shortly thereafter, nestling them in place to shelter the compartment from attention.

That was enough relaxing for one night, most likely. She felt very tired. With a yawn, Rarity lifted the box of chocolates to her bedside table and replaced her bookmark on the page she had left off on. Maybe she’d return to it another night, when she was feeling more together.

Her bed was damp as she flicked the light off. With her eyes closed, she shuffled sideways, jostling neatly into place where the chocolates had been. Where, in her bed, there was a place for a second pony, but where always now there was one.

He’d fit so nicely there, too.

The sound of crying filled the room in the darkness. The taste of semen lingered faintly on Rarity’s lips as she licked them clean of her tears, tasting a mix of jizz, chocolate, and salt-water. After a few minutes of weeping she was well and truly exhausted, and sleep came.

It was perfectly alright to cry, after all, when remembering somepony she loved. A very normal thing to do. Quite ladylike, really.