“And so... ha ha, and so, he says to me, Clip, sweetie, not only is the water cold, but it’s deep too! AHAHAHA!”

All of the ponies at the dinner table threw their heads back and laughed. Rarity laughed too. She laughed loud enough to make sure she was heard, but not so loud that it sounded forced. There were other ponies at the table. Bischoofburger. Clip Klop and him seemed inseparable. There were also two models. Normally, Rarity might feel competitive in the presence of two young, beautiful females, especially while she was in heat. These two girls, however, were only models, not designers. They weren’t competing with her, at least not professionally.

“So!” Clip Klop finally said after finishing a dessert. It was easily the finest restaurant Rarity had ever eaten in. “You’re new in town. That’s marvelous. I know you’re going to go far. But listen, I don’t know if you know how the business works in this city.” Rarity leaned forward and batted her eye lashes. “The thing is, when someone new comes to town, somepony with talent - somepony like you - that pony needs to be seen and heard. Now, the only way that can happen is to be associated with someone that’s already established. Someone famous. Someone like me. But it’s quid pro quo, dear. You see, tired old moguls like me, we need young ponies just as much as they need us. For ideas. The thing is, when you get to the point in my career, it’s not about coming up with new ideas anymore, it’s about recognizing good ideas in others. Good ideas like yours. You see what I’m saying, dear?”

“Absolutely. You’re crystal clear, Clip,” Rarity said. She still couldn’t believe she was on a first name basis already.

“Good. Good. So have your agent call my office in the morning. We’ll have everything worked out for you. Now, how long have you been in town?”

“Why, I just got here this morning.”

“Ohohoho! Are you serious? Oh, how droll. This must be like a dream come true for you, dear. Well, we’ll have to get you out of that hotel and into a condo as soon as possible. I hear the market is good right now. Listen, since you just got here, is there anything you need? Anything at all?”

She grinned slyly but didn’t answer directly.

“Oh ho, so there is something you need, you little minx. Well, do tell, do tell.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she sat back in her chair. “It is awfully... personal.”

“Ha! Oh, puhleeze. This is the fashion business. There aren’t any secrets in the fashion business. That story I told you earlier about Hoof and his problem with his you know what? Oh, I tell that one to everyone I meet. Hoof doesn’t mind, do you Hoof?”

“No, Clip.”

“‘No, Clip’ he says. See? And Creamy over here?” He gestured at one of the models. “I can tell you what pills she took this morning, and what time she threw them back up. Like I said, there are no secrets. So. Just tell old Clippy about your little problem, and I’ll get you taken care of. I promise.”

“Well,” said Rarity. “As you know, I’m not from Manehattan. Originally.”

“Uh huh. And where are you from, anyway?”

“Now that’s the thing, Clip. I’m from just a little spot on the map called ‘Ponyville.’”

“That sounds delightful!”

“Well, I’m not entirely sure why. Maybe it has something to do with the weather, or the drinking water. But as it happens...”

“Yes?”

“Well, Clip. Rutting season has come a little early to Ponyville.”

“OH!” Clip Klop exclaimed. He sat back in his own chair. “OH!” he said again, gesticulating with his out-stretched hooves. “It all becomes clear. I know exactly what you’re going through.”

“You do?” she asked. Of course he didn’t know.

“Oh, rutting season. It’s always a disaster. Most of the industry is mares of course And they’re absolutely useless for about two weeks. Can’t put on shows. Can’t do anything. So... that’s your problem.”

“Well, I don’t know if this is exactly dinner talk, but yes, that’s it in a nutshell.”

“Ah.” Clip Klop started to scratch behind his ear. He looked as if he was concentrating on some strange new thought. “So you... want to get this problem taken care of. What you’re asking for is... sexual release.

“Well...”

“In the form of sexual intercourse.

“Well...”

“But that’s what you want? Sexual intercourse? With me?”

“Well, I never said it had to be you, Clip.

“But still, sexual intercourse! Fucking! That’s what you want!”

“Be that as it may, I...”

“Oh my Celestia! It is! HAHA! Can you believe it? Hey, everyone! Rarity wants sexual intercourse! HAHAHAHA!” The others at the table laughed. It was the exactly same laugh that they had been laughing with all evening. Phony as a three bit coin.

“I... I.. I don’t understand,” Rarity’s voice started to break.

“Oh my Celestia,” Clip Klop had to choke back laughter. “You mean you don’t know? And to think I almost hired you. Rarity. Child. Sexual intercourse. It’s just so... so... passé.” He burst into guffaws, and so did the others at the table. They started talking to people at other tables, who in turn started to laugh.

“I don’t get it,” Rarity was close to tears.

“Oh, do you even know what passé means? It means nobody does it anymore. Sexual intercourse? It’s SO two years ago.”

“But... but...,” Rarity watched as one of the models got up to tell the large crowd of Manehattan’s elite waiting for a table. They burst into laughter. They were looking and pointing. At her. A single tear rolled down her cheek.

“Yes,” he said, calming down. “It’s all gone the way of the dodo. Why, if you need sexual release it’s all asphyxiation and wheatgrass enemas these days. It’s the only way to release. Of course, you wouldn’t know what, being some hick from Podunkville. Now go on. Puhleeze. Don’t make me call the waiter over.”

Rarity stood up from the table and snatched up her saddle bag. Her throat was making little gasping noises, but there was nothing she could possibly say. She went for the door but it was blocked by a large crowd. They were all pointing and smiling. She turned and ran out the only other way, through the kitchen.

Rarity was halfway through the kitchen when she started to sob. She stopped in her tracks, not knowing where to go. A second earlier, the kitchen had been a cacophony of noise. Shouting chefs, knives chopping furiously on wooden blocks, banging pots, clashing dishes. All noises stopped, so did all the motion. Everybody in the kitchen turned to look at Rarity. “Back door?” she sobbed. A mule in a chef’s outfit held up a sharp knife, and pointed towards the door. Rarity went running out, and into the dark alley. Alone.

Rarity paced back and forth. She cried so hard that her throat hurt. She didn’t know what happened. She didn’t know what to do. She sat down on her rump and tried to gain her composure. Everything she had come to Manehatten for was over. She was ruined. She had never felt more humiliated. Her crying subsided. The back door of the restaurant swung open. The mule chef, the one who had pointed the knife, came out. She turned to look at him, mascara dripping down her white cheeks.

“Oh, bueno,” he said. “You’re still here. Listen, I wanted to tell you I threw those bums out.”

“You... did what?”

“Yup, I don’t want bums like that around here.”

“But... but... he’s not a bum. He’s Clip Klop. The greatest fashion designer in the world!” Rarity couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“I don’t care if he’s Princesa Celestia herself. He’s a bum!” the mule chef insisted. “Anybody who makes a lady or a child cry is a bum. Hmm. So I threw him out of my restaurant.”

“Your restaurant? But you’re just a...”

He looked at her suspiciously.

“... a chef,” she finished.

“Ha! Lady, I think you were about to say ‘mule.’ But that’s OK. I’m used to the low expectations. And to be honest, no, it’s not really my restaurant. At least, I’m not the owner. I just run the place. I’m the head chef.”

“Really? Well... my compliments. It was the best meal I’ve ever had. And... thank you. You’re very sweet. Where did you train? I imagine it must have been in Paris at the Cordon Bleu.”

“Ha, nope. Got a job as a dishwasher and worked my way up,” he said. “OY!” he shouted suddenly at the back door. A few second later it opened and another mule stuck his head out.

“Si, Chef?”

“Servilleta.”

“Si, Chef!” He disappeared and reemerged a few seconds later. He tossed the head chef a napkin made of fine cloth. He snatched it from the air and handed it to Rarity.

“Oh, thank you,” she said, and started to wipe away her tears and mascara.

“Yeah,” he went on. “One day, though. One day, I’m going to have my own restaurant.” He held his hooves out wide, as if indicating a large canvas painting. “It will be even better than this place. Talk of the town, you know. Man, lady, I’d love to see the look on mi madre’s face when I write that letter to her.”

“What are you going to call it.”

“I dunno. Probably not Chez Gustavo,” he laughed. “Ah, I’ll think of something better. It will take me a couple more years, but I’ll get there some day.”

“That’s important,” Rarity said softly. “Having a dream.”

Gustavo turned to look at her when the door swung open again. It was another mule, with an unlit cigarette hanging in his mouth.

“Kitchen’s alright?” Gustavo asked.

“Mmhmm,” the other mule nodded and lit his cigarette. “Service died down after the thing in the dining room.”

“This here’s my sous-chef,” Gustavo told Rarity. “Carlos. Yeah, he’ll have his own restaurant too someday.”

Carlos grinned. “And who’s this pretty lady?”

“Why, this here’s... uh...”

“Rarity,” Rarity finally managed a smile.

“...Señorita Rarity. She’s a fashion designer.” Rarity hadn’t told him that, but he could read between the lines. “She’s the best in the world. And some day, the whole world is going to know it.” Rarity blushed.

“Well,” said Carlos. “I knew you were in fashion, uptown girl like you. But figured you were a model.”

Another mule stepped out of the kitchen. “Last plate just went out, chef,” he said.

Gustavo nodded. “This is my saucier, Jorge,” he said. Jorge and Rarity exchanged nods and smiles.

Jorge bummed a smoke from Carlos. “So what happened in there, anyway?”

“Oh, it’s so embarrassing,” Rarity said. It had been embarrassing, but for some reason she now felt like talking about it. These mules seemed so strangely sympathetic. “I just lost the job that I just got this morning.”

The mules all nodded and smiled, knowingly. “Ah, it’s just a job, lady,” Gustavo said. “Easy come. Easy go. You’re pretty. You’re talented. I’m sure you don’t need them. You’ll be a big star someday.”

“Well,” said Rarity. “It was more than just a job. It was THE job. It was a whole new class. Class mobility. For just a few hours today, I had moved up.”

“Nah,” said Gustavo. “Class? Listen. That ain’t class. Class isn’t about money. Class isn’t about fame. Class is an attitude. And lady? You’ve got class. I can tell. Those other bums? They don’t know nothing about class. Pinche gabachos.”

“Oh... well.. thank you. I... I guess I always knew that. I mean, about the importance of virtue over money and fame. I suppose I’ve just forgotten it recently. Oh, the last week or two have just been hell on me. My hormones are simply raging.”

The mules shuffled awkwardly for a moment. “Hormones?” Gustavo ventured.

“Yes, well, I’m in heat you see,” Rarity said. The mules were silenced by her frankness. “You see, I’m from a little town in the country called Ponyville. I suppose we’re a little backwards and do things a little bit differently out there. I can’t believe I embarrassed myself so badly. I should have known better. I committed the biggest faux pas imaginable. I had no idea that intercourse was passé. I’m such a rube.”

The mules looked into each other’s eyes, not sure what to say. They were half confused, and half amused. “Lady,” said Gustavo. “Please pardon my french, but what the fuck are you talking about?”

“I just didn’t know. I had no idea that having sex was out of fashion. And for two years? Why hadn’t I heard about that? I’ve never heard of a wheatgrass enema.”

Gustavo burst out laughing and the other chefs followed suit. “Lady, I don’t know what those pinche mariposas were telling you, but fucking ain’t out of fashion.”

“It’s not?” Rarity blinked in a sensation of confusion and relief.

“Oh, hell, no,” said Gustavo. “Man, we love to fuck, don’t we boys?” The others cheered in agreement. Rarity’s smile grew larger. She started to feel better than she had all day. “Lady? Listen, I don’t know how you really feel about mules. But hey. If you’ve got an itch that needs scratching? Me and the boys, well, we could scratch that for you. If you want.”

“Gentlemen.?” Rarity said, putting on as much airs as she could muster. “I’d be honored.”

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