Laying in bed, Tarnish contemplated the serendipity that had brought him here to this place, to this society, to this wonderful apartment, to this wonderful bed… and the mare that he shared it with. Yesterday, he had seen a whole new side of Maud—seeing her in the formal gown had been a real eye opener. She was a stunner, no mistake.

He started to get up and out of the bed, but two forelegs closed around his neck and pulled him back in. He wiggled, struggled, and then said, “It’s time to get up, Maud.”

There was no reply, nothing verbal anyway. Maud’s forelegs wrapped around his neck even tighter and he realised that there would be no refusing her. It was almost nine o’clock in the morning. He squirmed a bit, trying to get comfortable, and Maud redoubled her grip, letting out a sleepy grunt as she did so.

“Maud?”

Still no reply. Not a word. Tarnish felt the pony sharing the bed with him snuggling up against his back. He could feel the faint, soft, distracting, and even a little arousing tickle of Maud breathing on his neck.

“Maud, what comes next? How long are we staying here?” Tarnish asked.

He heard a sigh behind him and then he was almost crushed. His eyes went wide as all of the air in his lungs shot out with a wheeze. He felt Maud’s moist, damp muzzle pressing against his neck. One of Maud’s hind legs slid over his hip and he felt her whole body pressing up against him. He felt another source of warm, moist heat against his spine.

“Long enough to make a memory, Tarnish.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Tarnish, something bad happened. Something really bad. I’m not leaving this place until we have a few good memories to balance out the really bad memory that I don’t want to remember.”

“I see.”

“We’ll have a nice dance together, make a nice memory, and then we’ll go home.”

“Okay.”

“After that, we’re on the road again. I feel the itch, Tarnish.”

“I do too.”

“Tarnish…”

The colt felt Maud shifting up against him. Her hind leg wrapped tight over his hip and he felt himself pulled closer. Maud wiggled against his back. He gulped as he felt her grinding up against him.

“Tarnish… I have another itch. I woke up with parts of me feeling rock hard, Tarnish.”

Shuddering, shivering, Tarnish felt Maud’s teeth clamp down upon the edge of his ear and give him a tug. His mind flashed him a picture of Maud in the gown. He thought of Maud’s reaction to him in his tuxedo.

In the days of old, unicorns raised the sun with their magic. Right now, Tarnish was raising something else and he didn’t need magic to do it. The bed was far too warm and he wanted to fling the blankets off. He wanted to feel cool air against his feverish skin.

Taking a deep breath, Tarnish prepared himself to give Maud a memorable moment…

Sticking his head out of the door, Tarnish looked left, then right, almost as if he was a colt crossing the street. He stepped out of his apartment, his hooves clattering against the tile floor, and Tarnish was certain that he was making too much noise. He hoped that he wasn’t disturbing any neighbors.

Maud pushed him out of the way, having no such worries, and she took off down the hall, eager to go and have a good long look at the Stiff Upper Lip Society’s geological archives. Tarnish watched her go—she wasn’t wearing her usual smock, but instead, she had on a dark forest green dress that had a long, flowing skirt around her hind legs that hung down to the bottom of her hocks. Her curly mane was tied up into a loose bun; well, most of it anyway, a portion of it was already spilling out, refusing to be contained. Something about her dark green dress made her neck appear to be slender and even more graceful.

Tarnish pulled the door shut behind him and took off down the hall, not knowing what he was going to do, where he was going to go, or even how he was going to spend his day, but he was determined to make the most of his time here.

The library was huge. Tarnish, wide eyed, couldn’t believe all of the books in this place. Maps too. There was a bit of everything to be found, even stone tablets and wooden plates. He didn’t even know where to begin looking, not that he knew what he was searching for. Maud was in the geological archives, the next series of rooms over.

Tarnished walked down between the aisles of books and found himself in a comfortable alcove filled with comfortable furniture, an ideal spot for reading. There was a portrait upon the wall. Stepping closer, he had himself a look.

There was a painting of a pink pegasus mare that seemed oddly familiar. Tarnish couldn’t put his hoof on why though. She was wearing thick glasses with dark blue frames and a pith helmet in the painting. She had light purple eyes behind her glasses and her mane was a dark, dusky shade of violet with pale pink streaks. Her neck was long, slender, and graceful.

He stepped a little closer and noticed a brass plaque beneath the painting. He stared at the ornate letters, the fancy, flowing script etched upon the brass. Squinting, he read the words inscribed below the painted portrait.

Dove, the letters said. He kept going. Cartographer of the Great Northern Expanse, explorer of the arctic reaches, and noted benefactress. This library was made possible through the generous donations of Dove, one of our most magnificent members.

Blinking, Tarnish couldn’t help but feel that something seemed familiar about her. He stood there, staring, and was suddenly in the mood for a Cadance~Cola. His mouth felt dry and he was thirsty. He dismissed the whole thing with a huff, thinking to himself that he associated pink with refreshment or something pleasurable. There were parts of Maud that were pink…

He gave himself a shake, his ears flopping.

“She’s an amazing pony.”

Turning, Tarnish found himself looking at a pegasus. A blue pegasus that had the most spectacular soft voice, perfect for speaking in a library. A little startled, Tarnished blinked.

“I’ve had the privilege of meeting her,” the pegasus said to Tarnish. “My name is Peafowl and that over there”—the pegasus pointed with his wing to an earth pony mare with a pinto brown and white pelt sitting at a study table a short distance away—“is Scramble Patch, my esteemed colleague and pack pony.” The pegasus lifted his head high and his eyebrow arched as he looked up at Tarnish.

“Hi, my name is Tarnished Teapot…” Tarnish’s words trailed off into nothingness as he didn’t know what else to say. The pegasus was educated, very much so, that much was obvious, and Tarnish could not help but feel a little out of place. “Pack pony?” Tarnish thought about the words and decided that he wasn’t quite comfortable with them.

“Oh yes, she is an amazing pack pony. Never will you find a more sure stepped companion anywhere. She prides herself on being able to go pronking about on the side of some mountain under a full load.” The pegasus paused and then shook his head. “Oh dear, I just realised how dreadful that might sound to somepony that doesn’t know us or our arrangements… dreadfully sorry.”

Blinking a few times, Tarnish relaxed. The blue pegasus looked mortified and took a step backwards. Tarnish looked over at Scramble Patch, who had her nose buried in a book. Something about the mare reminded him of Maud.

“Earth ponies… fine companions out in the field. I’m a weakling, a shameful admission, but it’s true. I have trouble carrying my own canteen. It fatigues me just thinking about it.” Peafowl’s feathers fluffed out and the pegasus let out a frustrated huff. “Scramble Patch makes it look so easy… just a hop, skip, and a jump indeed.”

Tarnish’s ears filled with soft, musical laughter and he realised that Scramble Patch was laughing at her companion. Hearing laughter, he was now completely at ease. He even allowed himself a little laugh.

Peafowl snorted.

Hearing Peafowl’s snort, Scramble Patch began giggle-snorting and she pressed her face down deeper into her book to muffle herself. Tarnish began grinning from ear to ear. He no longer felt out of place or out of sorts. These were his sorts of ponies. He could associate with them. He found himself liking them.

“If you will excuse me, I have much that needs doing. It was pleasant to meet you, Mister Teapot.” The perturbed pegasus with ruffled feathers glanced at his giggle-snorting companion, rolled his eyes, and shook his head.

“It was nice meeting you,” Tarnish replied, “maybe when you’re not busy, I could introduce you to my wife.”

“Oh, that’d be lovely.” Peafowl’s head bobbed. “I’ll be attending the ball… I shall see you then, Mister Teapot…”

After wandering through the building, Tarnish heard music, lovely music. He strode down the hall, his ears twitching, almost hypnotised by the sounds of strings, woodwinds, and brass. His heart quickened in his barrel and he wondered if he was hearing a live performance.

He pushed his way through two wide double doors and discovered much to his glee, it was a live performance. He stood silent, trying to be respectful, and looked around the room. Right away, he saw Octavia, but she wasn’t playing. She was sitting at a small round cast iron bistro table in the corner, sipping some steaming drink from a delicate, tiny cup.

Turning his head, he saw a white unicorn acting as a conductor. She had a brilliant snow white pelt and a cobalt blue mane. She was standing at a conductor’s podium, waving around the little wand that conductors used to make the magic happen. A wide, manic grin was plastered to the mare’s muzzle. She was wearing glasses that concealed her eyes.

Tarnish didn’t know who the white unicorn was, but he was entranced. She moved this way and that way and flicked her conducting wand around with reckless abandon. The orchestra, about two dozen ponies, almost seemed to be under the white unicorn’s spell. With a flick of her wand, the white unicorn coaxed some sassy, brassy sounds out of the horns. A stallion sawing away on the strings of his double bass let go of something almost jazz-like.

There was a snort from the bistro table. Octavia watched the goings on with a raised eyebrow and shook her head. The white unicorn, grinning, turned and waggled her backside at Octavia, hiking her tail high and stomped her hind legs as she continued to conduct the band.

Tarnish found himself struggling not to laugh as Octavia rolled her eyes and shook her head. She looked so dignified, so cultured, so refined… and so defeated. The orchestra picked up the tempo at the white unicorn’s urging and the music was becoming a cacophony of sound. The double bass player was no longer running his bow over the strings, but was plucking them with abandon. The brass horns were blowing hot, sassy notes. The oboe player sounded as though she was somehow heaving an orgasm through her instrument.

“Ugh, jazz is the sound of musicians masturbating!” Octavia cried. “Orchestras should not play jazz music! Vinyl! You are such a bad pony!” Octavia rose to her hooves and took a step towards the white unicorn. “This was supposed to be a practice session for the ball!”

When Octavia took another step, the white unicorn’s conducting wand fell to the floor, clattering as it bounced about, the white unicorn’s muzzle split into a wide grin, and her orange tongue dangled out. She took off at a run, glancing over her shoulder at the frustrated grey earth pony mare.

“VINYL!” Octavia bellowed. “You come back here and take what is coming to you!” Stomping through the room, Octavia took off in hot pursuit of the fleeing unicorn, the cause of much musical mischief.

The band collapsed into total mayhem as the two mares fled the room…

Author's Notes:

Soon... romance.