Greetings to readers on both sides of the portal. I am Platinum Corona, founder and president of Gentlemen for Mares.

I’d like to commend Five Stars for a very well-written and engrossing set of articles so far. She is very much correct in that the stories of failed herd life she tells are ones that have happened to far too many a mare. Gentlemen for Mares was founded with them in mind: as Five Stars says, our ultimate objective is to make every mare feel as SHE did her first night with Burning Heart—a very special somepony, one worthy of the warmth and worship they too often do not get within the confines of a herd.

That said, I wish to correct the record on one minor point. The purpose of Gentlemen for Mares is NOT, as was stated in the introductory article, to provide ‘male escorts’ or ‘sexual services’ for mares. It is to provide COMPANIONSHIP. Though the nights typically end in intimacy, the actual rutting is… I wouldn’t say incidental to that, but rather, the culmination of an entire evening of attention and affection, thus making it all the more meaningful for the mares—and gentlemen—involved. As Five Stars said herself, that’s the difference between a cheap and quickly-forgotten rut and an intense round of lovemaking…

The difference between a shallow physical encounter and a night filled with passion and ecstasy a mare will remember all her life. I’m sure the same holds true for humans as well.

Though I would not be so presumptuous to say that every encounter goes well and all our customers are uniformly satisfied, I would note that we have many repeat clients and both they and our Gentlemen often form favorites among each other. More than once have we seen actual relationships blossom between man and mare; more than once has a Gentleman left the company to be with the mare they came to love and appreciate the most. Though I am always sorry to see them go, it warms my heart to know that a mare will now be satisfied for all her life. I can think of no greater a happy ending than that.

With that, I turn it back over to one of my original hires, now a long-time trainer of Gentlemen. Carry on, Five Stars! I’m eager to read more…

—Platinum Corona, Founder & President, Gentlemen for Mares

Thank you, Platinum Corona. I couldn’t have said it any better.

I offer both my gratitude for your kind words and my sincere apologies for not spotting that myself. That the job of a Gentleman is to provide not simply sex but companionship is a lesson that I and my fellow trainers drum into every trainee that passes through our doors and beds—that it’s not the encounter that’s important, it’s everything that precedes it. And this segues nicely into the lessons my next herd would teach.

But first… there’s another story to tell. One that has nothing to do with Gentlemen for Mares, yet everything to do with its mission. Another common theme I so often hear from the neighsayers is that hiring a gentleman amounts to little more than scratching an itch—filling a fleeting physical need as opposed to a deeper emotional one that only a herd or herd stallion could provide.

I grant it is a valid question: how can a single night with a stallion—human or pony—you’ve never even met before be anything but cheap and tawdry sex? How can a mare possibly get satisfaction from a single night out, or companionship from a partner you don’t even know?

This is my answer.

A Fresh Start

That first night leaving Manehattan was a very rough one for me.

It had been only a few hours since departure, but I already found myself sorely missing my bed, friends, and the familiar surroundings of the Shemareaton. As I lay sleepless, huddled on an uncomfortable train couch under a thin and rather scratchy blanket, I wondered if I was making a huge mistake.

My first herd having ended in failure, I questioned everything—my looks, my actions, my personal worthiness as a mare and pony. I wondered it if it was somehow my fault what had happened; what I could have done differently. Should I have confronted Autumn Leaf sooner? Or perhaps later? Should I have simply bypassed her and gone to Burning Heart, even at the cost of my job? Could I have gotten Willow and Snow Lily to assist me, form a united front? Maybe then it would have been Autumn leaving and not me?

I never did find a satisfactory answer to those questions, but one thing my mom told me a long time ago was that there was no point in dwelling on what could have been or paths not taken. That to do so was to be forever trapped in the past and not see the future that could still be; that all you could do was take your lumps, learn your lessons and move on from it, try to do better next time. Thus, I set my sights ahead, watching as the forests gave way to plains, then mountains, and finally desert—for anypony who hasn’t taken a cross-country train trip like that, I highly recommend it; there’s really no better way to see Equestria.

Three days later, following stops in Neighagra (it was painful for me to see the town again, given the last time I’d been there it was to join the herd I’d just left), Canterlot (and I thought Manehattan was upscale!), Ponyville (a quaint little town), and Appleloosa (I thought those old frontier-type places only existed in oaters!), my destination literally materialized out of a canyon pass, a glittering jewel on the nighttime desert plain. It was all I could do not to gawk too obviously as I stepped off the train and looked around at my new home.

How can a pony describe Las Pegasus? If I had to choose a word… it would be otherworldly.

Being a native of Manehattan, I thought I was no stranger to glitz or glamor. I quickly learned how wrong I was when I exited the train station and walked down the bright boulevard called simply “The Street”, wandering around in a daze and wondering where in the name of Celestia I was going to start.

As I walked up-Street, I beheld large entertainment complexes done in very ornate architecture, each in its own theme or motif. Names of high-end casino resorts I’d only read about or seen in photographs passed by me, all lit up with magical displays, occasionally alternating with upscale shopping malls and nightclubs of various repute.

The Andalusian Bay. The pyramid-shaped Deluxor. The Manehattan, done to look like the skyline of its namesake city (having just come from there, I wasn’t sure if I appreciated that or not) and across the street, the film-themed Grande. And they seemed to go on forever; further upstreet I could see the distinct architecture of other such big names as the Buffalagio, The Palisades, The Mystique, the Dragon’s Hoard, the Palamino, and at the very end of The Street far off in the distance… the tall spire of the Strotosphere.

It wasn’t just the buildings, either. There were costumed ponies and performers, both musical and magical on every block. Billboard-wearing burros that passed out flyers for various… services… on every corner. A magical water fountain show set to music took place in front of one hotel at the top of every hour; a mock volcano that erupted with multicolored flames and fireworks in front of another. Countless signs and billboards advertising magic and stage shows, many of a decidedly… risqué nature. Pegasi and griffins streaking overhead pulling banners advertising aerial tours of the city and the nearby Great Gorge and Hoofer Dam for the non-flying. Gilded chariots strolling the streets carrying billboards that guaranteed buff stallions with impossibly tight flanks and suspiciously large organs brought to your door in thirty minutes or less.

And the place wasn’t just for ponies, either—zebras, griffins, buffalo, and even some younger dragons were wandering about and mingling freely. Accordingly, the restaurants had every form of food imaginable, including meat for griffins and gemstones for dragons. And of course, that was to say nothing of the endless gambling halls, casinos containing everything from poker tables to roulette wheels, dice games and the ‘one-legged bandits’ known as slot machines…

It’s a city designed to part you from your hard-earned bits willingly, and to make sure you have the time of your life losing them.

As awestruck and overwhelmed I was, I had to forcibly remind myself I wasn’t there on vacation. I had to find lodging and a job quickly, and I wasn’t about to tempt fate by putting a few bits down on a 21 table (one of the few games I knew how to play). The prices of The Street hotels way too much for my meager budget, I found a cheap but seedy-looking off-Street motel frequented by slightly disreputable-looking stallions who, I guessed, basically hawked themselves to lonely mares for money to pay for their gambling debts or various addictions. A couple even approached me, but I wasn’t that desperate… and they backed off when they learned that despite my Manehattan airs and upscale-looking cutie mark, I didn’t have much money.

Needless to say… it was definitely a step or six down from the comfortable environs of the Shemareaton. But as I settled in to my cheap room, laying back on an old mattress and curling up under a moth-eaten blanket—it was at least better than the couch on the train—I promised myself it would not be my permanent home.

The next morning really drove home where I was. I walked outside and, instead of being surrounded by tall buildings and a typically cold December morning of Manehattan, I was greeted by mild desert air, very dry and dusty. The city was flat but ringed by very stark desert mountains, their layers of strata very visible and striking. The sky was crystal clear, not a cloud to be seen… though the weather plan was apparently to have pegasi weather teams start bringing in some cooler weather and snow for Hearth’s Warming Eve, now just three weeks away.

Part of the reason I chose to head for Las Pegasus was timing. I knew I’d be coming in at the height of the holiday season, when a lot of extra workers would be needed. I’d hoped it would make it easy for me to quickly find a job, wondering if there was any way I could break into the big-name Street hotels and if my previous experience as a concierge and event coordinator at the Shemareaton Manehattan would be good for anything here.

Lacking references, it really wasn’t. I had left in such a hurry I had neglected to get letters of recommendation, and without them, I couldn’t get anywhere. I also really didn’t have an answer for the inevitable, awkward question of ‘why did you leave?’ Somehow, explaining that my situation had become intolerable after I had ended up eating out my hotel manager lead mare under Discord’s influence didn’t seem like an acceptable explanation…

Realizing that I only had enough bits for a month’s stay and that I couldn’t afford to be choosy, I took the first job offered me as a simple server at The Mystique, a large triple-winged hotel located in the center of The Street… wearing provocative uniforms and tight-fitting leg stockings, fetching drinks for various guests, occasionally getting leered at or hit on by other mares (and one time by a griffin eagless??? How does that even work with their beaks?) I can’t say I enjoyed it, but I understood I was starting at the bottom. So I swallowed my pride and flirted back with them, occasionally flagging my tail hoping to make more than my usual meager tips.

To be sure, I quickly learned that some servers were willing to go further than just flirting hoping to score some extra bits, but… that was simply not something I was willing to do. I was nopony’s comfort horse, and I looked down my nose at those who were…

Needless to say, time and experience would change my attitude. In fact, much sooner than I would ever imagine.

A Holiday Alone

It was Hearth’s Warming Eve, less than three weeks after I arrived in Las Pegasus. The casino and hotels on The Street were starting to empty out in advance of that most sacred and special of days, when ponies celebrate the Birth of Harmony, the founding of Equestria and unification of the three pony tribes.

Lacking anypony to be with, I volunteered to work over the holiday for extra pay. Even if ponies weren’t playing, the griffins, zebras, buffalo and dragons would still be, and I figured I might be able to work the more expensive dice and card tables in the absence of the regular servers.

I’m sorry to say it really didn’t work—the more bits patrons had, the stingier they seemed to be with them. The dragons in particular were almost impossible to get tips out of, acting like their chip stacks were their own little hoard.

It was late that night and I was about to go off-duty and head back to my motel to spend what I expected to be a very lonely holiday when I noticed a single and rather forlorn-looking light blue unicorn mare at the bar, several empty shotglasses in front of her. When I asked her if she’d like another, all she did was nod sadly, not looking up. So as I brought her the last drink of my shift, I declined her tip and instead tried to strike up a conversation, thinking perhaps she’d appreciate a friendly ear.

In truth, I needed one too, being rather depressed myself at that point. My last Hearth’s warming had been with my herd; the ones before that with my family, who were all on the east coast of Equestria. To that point I still hadn’t told them I’d left my herd—I knew most of them would be sympathetic and be willing to offer help, but I was particularly dreading my older sister’s reaction, knowing she’d probably mock me for it. Nope, no love lost there…

It also didn’t help that I was coming into heat.

Introduction to Estrus

For my human readers, pony mares come into heat, or estrus, every two or three months once we reach a certain level of physical maturity, usually in the late teens. Your first heat is seen as something of a rite of passage, marking the onset of adulthood and fertility.

It’s a very heady but not always pleasant time when they occur; particularly when you don’t have the outlets a herd and herd stallion can provide. As a rule you’re very distracted and moody… and finding yourself flirting with those you normally wouldn’t for the week or so they last.

In fact, Estrus, to borrow a phrase I’ve heard Gentlemen use, can be a royal fucking bitch (no offense to Diamond Dogs; I mean that phrase in the human context!) You’re desperately horny and all but craving male company… yet you can’t have it without risking getting pregnant, which is a big no-no outside a herd—I’ll discuss the ugly stigma of being ‘misborn’ another time. Contraception is available, by potion and various enchantments, but in the heat of the moment you might forget them—trust me, it happens—and it blocks the thing that mares psychologically need most during heat: male seed.

It’s the wonderful way harmony or simple nature ensures that we’re more likely to get pregnant and propagate the species.

Mares deal with heats in various ways. The primary means to mitigate one short of an actual rutting is a ‘cooler’, which is basically a toy in the shape of a male phallus that spurts a seed-like substance at the opportune time and temperature. It can fool the body—to a point—into thinking it’s just been mated, and that takes the edge off the heat. It ‘cools’ you off, hence the name, at least until next ‘phase’ comes along, usually less than half a day later. A cooler can either be worn by another mare to simulate mounting... or manually operated with your hooves or horn.

I don’t think I need to explain further what the latter entails, but my cooler was one of the few things I took me with from Manehattan, knowing I was due for my next estrus before too long. The timing was especially bad, though, as having an unserviceable heat over a lonely holiday would just make my depression and loneliness even worse. It was just going to be me with my cooler in my motel room at night, I thought; there was no way in Tartarus I was going to one of the stallions that trolled the street corners near my motel looking for lonely mares. Not only could I end up getting pregnant that way, I could end up being robbed as well, at which point I’d be out on the street with them. No thank you.

Anyway, even before I sat down with this blue mare, I knew something wasn’t right. She wasn’t playing or paying any attention to what was happening around her; it looked to me like she was just trying to drown her sorrows in expensive cocktails (which was itself odd—if she was playing they’d be free!) My shift over, I sat down beside her as I brought her one last drink and asked her what was wrong.

She was somewhat leery of me at first; probably thinking I just wanted her bits like the other servers. But being in the hospitality industry as long as I had, I knew how to put ponies at ease. I simply turned on my ‘concierge charm’ as Willow had once referred to it, friendly and helpful, speaking in a cosmopolitan accent and air that made clear I was no simple server. Or at least, I hadn’t always been.

About a half-hour and two drinks later, she finally opened up. She explained she’d just lost her herd, kicked out by her stallion because she ‘wasn’t a good lay’. “And I don’t even know what I did wrong,” she sniffled. “I did everything he asked… even when I didn’t want to. Is it my looks? Am I not smart enough? Is my rump too bony? Am I not a good provider? Not good enough at magic? What?” she asked both me and the universe at large.

My heart went out to her as I looked her over, thinking that her story sounded only too familiar… wondering if there was anything I could say or do to restore her crushed spirit and lost confidence. For the record, there’s no worse way you can hurt a mare than to tell her she’s not good enough for her herd or stallion.

I didn’t understand it, though. She wasn’t bad-looking by my lights; a light blue unicorn mare with a two-tone mane and tail somewhat reminiscent of certain toothpaste brands. She also seemed smart enough; she was certainly well-spoken even with the alcohol in her system. I wasn’t sure what to make of her cutie mark, but she said she was a dentist—appropriate, I guess—and explained she’d come to Las Pegasus to try and clear her head.

“Figured I’d come here and try to forget. But I can’t,” she admitted; my eyes went wide when she told me where her home was—needless to say, she’d come a VERY long way. “Especially not now,” she sniffed as she motioned to the Hearth’s Warming decorations that surrounded us, a reminder to us both that we were all alone during what was supposed to be a time of friends and family. Lest there be any doubt, a herd is a family, and when you leave one, voluntarily or not, you’re in essence leaving a family behind. It’s rarely an easy thing to do, and no matter how many times I did it, it never got any easier for me.

“I’m sorry,” I told her, and meant it. I guess we were both in need of some company, as we stayed with each other into the wee hours of the morning, just sitting at that bar talking… commiserating. She asked for my story, wanting to know how an obviously upscale earth pony mare like myself had ended up being a simple server in Las Pegasus, so I gave it (sans the Discord part of the tale). She was appalled and said she couldn’t imagine having a lead mare like Autumn Leaf, wondering aloud why Burning Heart let her get away with it.

You and me both, sister. You and me both.

For my part, as I listened to her I realized what I’d had in Burning Heart—for whatever faults he had, he would never just discard any of his mares like that—and wondered anew if I’d made a mistake in leaving him, worried that even if I did find another herd, that could be the kind of male I ended up with if I wasn’t careful.

As the clock struck 3 am on Hearth’s Warming Eve, I noticed her eyes drooping, and mine weren’t doing much better—the extra shifts were starting to get to me. Yawning, she asked me where I was staying. When I told her it was an off-street motel, she shook her head and offered her room to me. “Least I can do for letting me unload is give you a comfortable bed,” she told me. “It’s a single, but the bed’s a Prince-size, and it’s got plenty of room.”

I hesitated briefly, worried what my heat might have me do—I’d felt my first ‘phase’ starting to come on, and had planned to relieve it with my cooler when I got home. But my reservations melted away with the realization that I really didn’t want to be alone or go back to my ratty motel room; the three weeks since I’d left Manehattan had reminded me of not only how much I missed male company, but that of Willow and Snow Lily—even when we didn’t do anything (and we hadn’t since what happened with me and Autumn) there was something to be said for just sharing a bed with one or both of them, snuggled together. “Sure. And thanks,” I told her. “Be nice to have a comfortable mattress and company for a change.”

So I followed her back to the elevators. As we boarded, the big buffalo security guard gave me a smirk—I was still in my provocative server’s outfit, and she clearly thought I was planning to service this mare. I gave her a dirty look back to say no, that was NOT was this was about; her only response was a broader grin and wink as the door closed.

You know, I really hate it when others turn out to be right like that…

What happens in Las Pegasus…

When we arrived at her sixth-floor hotel room, I was impressed at what I saw—for all the time I’d been working at the Mystique, I’d never actually been inside one. My eyes quickly cataloged its features: Upscale décor that would only the more expensive suites of the Shemareaton would match. A luxurious bathroom and bed complimented by a well-appointed bookshelf and desk. A fully-stocked icebox and a large window with a decent view of the now snow-covered Street…

Heck, my room at the Shemareaton should have been so nice.

I stripped out of my uniform—those leggings look good, but I was always glad to get them off—freshened up using some of the complimentary hotel toiletries, thanked my new friend for her hospitality and settled in one side of that wonderfully plush bed.

And yet, despite how warm and comfortable it was… I couldn’t sleep. To my great chagrin, my heat was kicking in hard at that point—I’d hoped it’d at least hold off until morning; I found myself suddenly wishing I had my cooler. To my great surprise, my desires begin turning towards the warm body lying next to me; several times I had to stop myself from reaching from the mare I’d just met, wondering if I could surreptitiously relieve my tension with my hoof… at least enough to sleep.

Needless to say I was shocked at where my thoughts were going; half-wondering if I was under Discord’s influence again (was my coat turning pale? Couldn’t tell in the dark!) What had happened that fateful day had so turned me off on other mares I couldn’t even sleep with Snow Lily or Willow any longer for fear of flashbacks. In fact there were times I could barely even look at another mare after what had happened with Autumn Leaf; the thought of what we did under the chaos god’s influence still made my stomach turn.

Yet now… as I lay beside this equally lonely and lovelorn unicorn… the idea seemed anything but disgusting. And apparently, I wasn’t the only one to think so. “Five Stars?” I heard her voice call out.

I flinched and my breath caught. “Y-yes?”

“Your breathing is labored and you’re not sleeping. Are you… okay?” she asked in concern.

“It’s n-nothing…” I told her, forcing myself to turn away, lest her sight and proximity tempt me further. I am NOT into mares! I am NOT servicing a customer! I told myself over and over, increasingly unconvincingly.

It was several seconds before she spoke again. “Um… you’re in heat, aren’t you?” she asked, thought it was more statement than question.

It was several seconds more before I could answer. “Yes,” I confirmed in a low voice. “I, um… don’t suppose you have a cooler I could use…?” I asked, embarrassed, glad she couldn’t see my cheeks flushing. “I’d be happy to clean or replace it afterwards,” I hastened to add, knowing that some mares were very particular about sharing them.

“I do, and you’re welcome to it,” she said to my relief, which was very short-lived. “Um… Five Stars?” she began again after a brief hesitation, causing me to tense as I sensed the question coming. Not for it being asked, but for how I would answer. “I know we only just met, but… would you like me to… t-to help you?”

My already-warm cheeks went bright crimson. “I’m… n-not really into mares…” I swallowed, licking my lips and feeling my already-hot nethers start to moisten further, winking involuntarily under the sheets. I’m not! I insisted to myself again, but my body wasn’t listening, begging for relief… craving the touch and comfort of another pony, and not particularly caring about their gender.

My new friend gave a nervous chuckle. “Um… n-neither am I, normally…” she admitted with a tremor in her voice. “But I like you and… I’m w-willing to help a friend in need,” she offered tentatively, reaching over to touch me with a hoof. My breath caught at that, fire blossoming along my neck where she was slowly brushing through curly green mane. “Please…” she told me again, more huskily, shifting closer and moving to wrap her foreleg around my chest, beginning to pull me closer. I made no effort to stop her as she began to nibble at the base of my twitching ears. “Let me do this for you. It’s the least I can offer to repay your kindness…” she beseeched me as I heard her horn flare, feeling the first wispy feathers of her magic’s caress beneath the sheet.

I gave a low, foal-like whinny as I sensed her aura creeping lower along my belly, a moving blue glow beneath the blanket that soon found my swollen and tingling teats. “You don’t… have to…” was all I managed as she began to magically squeeze and massage them, only to have my voice catch when I realized… between my heat, my loneliness, and the hurt I still bore…

I very desperately needed her to.

“I… I want to…” she told me in a husky, almost pleading voice, the blue glow of her aura illuminating the room around us. “I couldn’t satisfy my stallion. So… let me at least try and satisfy you,” she said, her magical efforts intensifying, the warmth of her aura now probing around—and just barely into—my marehood, quickly finding and focusing on my clit. I gasped at that, amazed at her skill and magical touch as she quickly brought me near climax, using just the right motion and amount of pressure.

I tried to hold it off. I really did. It was a weird mix of both wanting to make it last and not wanting to have my first time since my lost herd belong to a mare. But it had been too long, my heat too intense, the stimulation too perfect… and my need far too great. Her efforts against my pleasure button finally paid off as I cried out gently, biting down on the blanket, my entire body tensing, then trembling with the release.

“Better?” she asked me as I collapsed back against her, squeezing me tight with her forehooves and kissing me between the ears, momentarily withdrawing her magic.

“Better,” I answered a little breathlessly, still panting softly. “Thank you. Really. I’m fine now…” I lied, my appetite only whetted for more… she had briefly taken the edge off, but I knew it was but a temporary respite. For I was still missing the thing I needed most…

Fortunately, my new friend was more perceptive than that, stifling a giggle and suddenly sounding more sure of herself than she had before. “You know, Five Stars… I have patients back home, both foals and full-grown ponies who insist they don’t have toothaches or need dental help when it’s pretty clear they do. And you’re acting the same way they do,” she said, a tut-tut note in her voice. “So I’ll tell you the same thing I tell them when they’re reluctant to get a cavity fixed or a tooth replaced… just relax and trust me to take care of you,” she insisted, gently pulling me over on my back while her horn lit up again; I could hear a fumbling sound coming from her travel bags in the corner as her aura searched for something.

“I promise to be gentle, and I promise you’ll be happy for it,” she assured me as her magic pulled something free of her luggage, bringing it over to the bed. It was long and rather suggestively shaped, a slightly curved foot-long shaft with a flared head and medial ridge, a reservoir visible inside its translucent surface that glowed invitingly with the same blue of her aura…

Her cooler.

One of the nicer models, in fact. And all I could do was stare dumbly at it for a moment, still in disbelief that this was actually happening—that I was going to let a mare—a customer!—service me. It was unprofessional, it was wrong, it was the antitheses of everything I’d been brought up to be; everything I thought I was as a pony and a mare…

… and at that moment, none of it mattered to me. I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t think, all I could do was kick off the blanket and spread my hind legs, panting and digging into my marehood with my hoof while waiting impatiently for her to charge it, watching as she put a small vial of powder and a measured amount of water into the cooler's chamber. She shook it in her aura to mix it, and then magically heated it until it was just the right temperature and consistency, cuddling me while running it along the length of my slit to get me ready again… hearing me moan and gasp repeatedly as she teased my entrance with it…

Teasing me with the promise of pleasure and satisfaction to come.

She wasn’t a stallion and it wasn’t a real stallionhood, but as desperate as I was, it was close enough for me at that point. “Are you ready?” my new unicorn marefriend asked, poising the cooler’s flared head at my entrance, the blue glow of her aura illuminating both it and the area between my legs.

“Put it in me…” I pleaded, and I could sense her smile as she did so, pushing it in with tantalizing slowness, letting it slowly fill me; letting me feel every delicious inch. I tensed and took a sharp breath as it worked its way in—it was the perfect temperature and texture; she was even making it pulse rhythmically with quick magical squeezes at the base—and she didn’t stop until it was halfway in, almost to the medial ridge. She paused there just long enough to turn my head around to kiss me before she began to pump the cooler in and out of me, starting slowly and gradually moving it with increasing speed and power, occasionally shifting its angle or slightly twisting it to increase the stimulation. And yet, to my amazement, she still had enough leftover magic and focus to rub my clit and tweak my teats with separate tendrils of her aura!

When I asked her about it later, she told me magical multitasking was something she’d had to learn to do as a dentist, in order to be able to hold up and use multiple instruments at once. But at that moment, lost in my own pleasure and need, such questions were beyond me; I just didn’t want her to stop! Her sense of timing and control were perfect; she brought me to the cusp of climax and then backed me off repeatedly, taking me a little higher each time. And all I could do was lie there and take it, savoring every moment of ecstasy and every delicious inch of the cooler, every kiss of her magic and caress of her aura against my body.

As I lay there alternately panting and gasping, lost in the hot haze of my soon-to-be-sated heat, all I could think was… her stallion said she was a BAD lay? By Celestia, her mating magic could give Snow Lily’s a run!

Finally, after what seemed an interminable but delicious amount of time—two minutes? Twenty? I’d lost all track—she let me go. “This is for you, Five Stars of Manehattan,” she whispered in my ear as she pushed the cooler in as deep as it would go and squeezed its base, causing its head to flare against the entrance of my womb and my body to tense, the symbolic act finally pushing me fully over the edge. “Happy Hearth’s Warming,” she cooed as I felt the shaft expand and warm, gooey liquid squirt deep inside me, giving my body what it so desperately craved…

I screamed in pleasure and called Celestia’s name.

I came back to my senses some minutes later to find I was still being held in a pair of light blue hooves, my head gently cradled against their owner’s chest. “Better?” my new friend asked again, giving me a nuzzle.

I looked at her in amazement and responded with a kiss. “You have no idea…” I managed, turning towards her and making out with her again, the rear end of the cooler still hanging sloppily between my legs. I was sweaty and the sheets were a bit of a mess, but… who the buck cared? “You know… for somepony who says they’re not into mares, you did that suspiciously well.”

“You know… for somepony who says they’re not into mares, you enjoyed that suspiciously much,” she rejoined with a lopsided grin.

My cheeks went warm again. “Well, it’s not like I never have…” I admitted. “It’s just…” I turned brooding for a moment.

“What?” she asked in concern, sensing my sudden change in mood.

“Nothing. Never mind,” I told her, not wanting to burden her with my own issues. But then again, hadn’t I already?

“Tell me,” she implored. So I took a deep breath and did so, recounting the story of what had happened with Autumn the day Discord returned.

“Oh…” was all she could say afterwards, blushing; I couldn’t tell if it was over my story or over the memories of what had happened to her that day. “I’m actually glad you didn’t tell me about that earlier then. I probably wouldn’t have offered to help if you had.”

“Good thing,” I chuckled, a sardonic note in my voice. “I meant it when I said I’m not really into mares, but before that happened… once in a while I enjoyed being with my herdmates. Afterwards…” I shook my head regretfully.

“Understandable,” my new friend and lover said, wrapping me comfortingly in her arms and aura. “I never really tried anything with the mares in my herd. Wasn’t really a need since our stallion tended to sleep with somepony different every night,” she explained. “Everypony, that is, except me,” she said in a quiet, trembling voice that spoke of remembered pain. “I was lucky if he rutted me once a month.”

I shifted around so we were belly to belly—that’s actually a slightly awkward pose for two ponies—and kissed her again. “He didn’t deserve a pony as wonderful as you,” I told her, wrapping her in my own forelegs and squeezing her tightly.

She managed a wan smile. “You’re just saying that…”

“No, I’m not!” I told her insistently, and meant it. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. What you just did for me took a lot of skill and talent… to say nothing of compassion. It’s his loss—and not yours—that he let you go,” I told her, planting kisses on her cheeks between every few words.

“Th-thank you…” she told me, tears welling in her eyes, though I still sensed a measure of doubt in them as well. How do I prove it? How do I restore her confidence? I wondered again, and the immediate answer I came up with was…

I suddenly rolled on top of her, pinning her down gently with my earth pony strength. She looked up at me in some surprise. “It’s your turn,” I told her, gently kissing the sensitive base of her horn—the essence of a unicorn, and the source of my own relief and pleasure. She took a slightly ragged breath at that, her horn starting to glow gently blue again with channeled magic. Snow Lily once told me that unicorn horns had to be charged with magic before they became sensitive, but gentle stimulation could induce them to do so automatically, much like bringing a stallion to erection by rubbing their sheath. It was a lesson I’d taken to heart during our occasional nights together; I’d gotten quite good at giving her horn jobs over time…

As my new friend was now quickly learning. “But…” she said slightly breathlessly as I began to lay licks and kisses along its entire spiral length, closing her eyes and biting her lip at the steadily increasing pleasure she was feeling, her horn glow intensifying with each fresh touch of my tongue.

“No buts,” I told her just before taking her entire horn in my muzzle. “It’s my responsibility as a server to make sure guests enjoy themselves,” I told her around my mouthful, bobbing my head up and down on it like a stallionhood—which in many ways a unicorn horn is. “And you will enjoy yourself,” I promised her huskily, resolving I would both repay her for her earlier efforts and show her how wonderful and special a mare she was.

It was how I was raised, after all. To always pay my debts. To always do right by others, and to always give my all. My name and cutie mark represents not so much a talent as a character trait and philosophy…

Five Star Service in everything I do.

So it was here. Over the next hour, I put everything I had into making love to my new marefriend, and for that power, I thank you, Willow and Snow Lily—it was you two who taught me how to properly give and receive a mare’s pleasure. I put those skills to good use here, had her alternately calling to Celestia and screaming my name as I used my muzzle and hooves to work her horn, slit and teats in turn… and occasionally all at once; her horn in my muzzle while my hooves dug into her neglected marehood, giving her the attention and pleasure her sorry excuse for a stallion had so long denied her…

Actually, I think it was then I realized how much I enjoyed that—hearing my name called in throes of passion.

I told her over and over how beautiful and wonderful she was, how any stallion would love to have her and how her previous one didn’t deserve her. She ate it up as eagerly as I ate her up, her horn erupting in multicolored sparks with each orgasm like a Minotaurian fireworks display—or perhaps more appropriately, a Hearth’s Warming Tree—over and over. In time, we traded off again and she returned the favor with her muzzle and magic, servicing and sating me with all the aura and ability she could muster.

Each time she got me off she seemed to grow in confidence just a little more, getting more and more bold to the point that she tried some other spells on me, including one that enhanced sensitivity and another that made me lactate(!), causing my breasts to swell and redoubling their sensation—between the two enchantments, she began suckling me and got me off on that alone! “I learned these to try to entice my stallion,” she told me later that day. “He never appreciated them.” Well, I did, and let her know that, amazed at how good she was making me feel.

After snowing all night, Hearth’s Warming Day dawned bright, cold and clear. In between my phases and our attendant lovemaking, we showered together, we talked, we ordered room service for lunch, then later that afternoon took a trip out on The Street to see the holiday sights—it was a slightly surreal experience walking through a snow-covered desert city, seeing palm trees and cacti holding up a blanket of white. We even managed to find presents for each other; she got me a warm red scarf from a local griffin-run clothier, so I returned the favor with a matching white one. Later on, we stopped by the Mystique gift shop to get a pair of jeweled casino chips etched with our cutie marks—a small little memento of our time together…

For the record, I still have her chip now, in a small frame in my apartment.

For dinner, I treated her to a nice traditional holiday meal at the Mystique buffet—using my employee discount and somewhat stingy holiday bonus, I could afford that, at least—where we ate and chatted for a while, discussing our hopes, plans, and futures—before heading to a downstreet theater to take in a traditional holiday pageant, one of Las Pegasus’ many circus performing troupes putting on the story of Hearth’s Warming. Not a bad production, I decided as the curtain came down and my new friend agreed with me, noting it was certainly one of the more acrobatic versions she’d seen.

We ended the starry evening at a coffeeshop sharing a spiked peppermint eggnog before heading back to the hotel, still wearing the holiday-colored scarves we’d bought for each other; just two friends shoulder to shoulder on a cold winter night.

To this day, I don’t think I’ve ever had a better Hearth’s Warming.

We spent her remaining vacation together, at least outside of my work hours. While I wasn’t available, she played a few games and seemed to be having some success at the slot machines and 21 tables, I noted, but more to the point, seemed to be genuinely enjoying herself. I was as well; she was always there to relieve my heat when fresh phases came along, our nights together weren’t quite as… intense as the first, but enjoyable nonetheless. Even without them, her company was good; she was the first real friend I’d made since I’d been there. But all good things must end, and three days after Hearth’s Warming, it was time for her to leave.

I saw her off that morning from the train station, giving her a goodbye kiss on the platform. Before she boarded, I was surprised when she presented me with a large money pouch containing what appeared to be several hundred bits. “These are my winnings,” she explained. “I’d like you to have them, Five Stars,” she said, hovering the bag before me.

I blushed at that—was she paying me for our time together? Treating me like a comfort horse? I wasn’t at all comfortable with that, and said so.

“Then consider it a gift to a friend,” she told me with a smile, using her aura to put the pouch in my saddlebags. “And a thank you for making what was going to be a very lonely Hearth’s Warming special. You saved me, Five Stars. Saved my vacation, if not my very sanity,” she told me, tears in her eyes.

Now what could I say to that? I just hugged her back. She’d helped me too; even aside from her being there to give me holiday company and relieve my heat, I no longer felt defined by my previous herd or what happened with Autumn Leaf—and that was the best holiday present I could ever receive. Our time together at an end, I invited her to keep in touch and look me up if she ever returned to Las Pegasus. She promised she would, but in my heart and I daresay hers as well… I knew we would probably never see each other again.

But as the saying goes… what happens in Las Pegasus stays in Las Pegasus. In the end, I don’t regret it and don’t believe she did either. We were just two hurting souls who needed each other one snowy night, a pair of emotionally wounded mares who found comfort and rediscovered their confidence lying in each other’s hooves. I helped her, she helped me. We got each other through a difficult time and gave each other the strength to move forward with our lives…

So I guess for that one night, we were each other’s comfort horse. And you know what? It was exactly what we both needed.

So what is the job of a Gentleman?

Put simply, it’s everything that two lost and lonely ponies were for each other one icy Hearth’s Warming Eve, far away from their homes and everything they had ever known.

It’s to fill a need.

To lend an ear and a friendly shoulder.

To provide companionship and comfort, even if just a for a night.

To restore lost confidence.

To heal wounds.

To make a mare feel like the very special somepony they are.

So to anyone, person or pony who believes that a single night can’t change a life, or that a gentleman is little more than an exotic comfort horse, I simply point back to one cold Hearth’s Warming Eve, when two mares from very different walks of life found each other. They had no expectation that it would be any more than one or two nights together, no pressure or inclination to form a relationship, or that it would continue in any real form afterwards. There were no strings attached, nor any asked… just mutual needs, both physical and emotional, that the other could address…

Much like what happens when a mare hires a Gentlemen. Sometimes that kind of casual encounter is needed far more than a commitment or a herd. Sometimes it takes a total stranger to see us for who we actually are… and show it back to us.

Humans, I’ve found, are quite good at that... both individually and as a species.

Thanks to Derecho for the pre-read! As always, feedback is welcome...

And yes, I've been to Las Vegas a few times. Can you tell?