Part 1 - Sweet Apple Pie

Waiting in the Manehattan bar where you had first met Matterhorn, you take the seat that you had occupied previously and ask the bartender for a beer. Tonight, the bar is very busy, ponies from all walks of life having descended upon this watering-hole for a night of alcohol fueled debauchery.

"No beer for you, Archie. You're a scotch stallion now." the over-confident voice of Matterhorn says, "Fillies can tell a lot about you by what you drink. That's the first rule, beer is the drink of slobs looking for a quick lay."

"I thought you were teaching me how to GET a quick lay?"

"For the love of Celestia, Archie. Are you really THAT stupid? Mares don't want stallions who are looking like they just want to get laid, they think they want the stallion they can take home to their parents, heck, a lot of the time, parents can be great leverage."

“What do you mean?"

"Oh, please, you've never heard the term 'Daddy Issues' before? Well, at least you suited up."

"Daddy issues?" you ask, raising an eyebrow,

"Daddy issues." he responds, "You know, where a mare idolises, misses, or even hates her daddy so much that she subconsciously looks for his traits in every guy she gets close to."

"Right."

"Alright, well, you remember I banged the Elements of Harmony? This actually reminds me of the time I managed to bag the element of Honesty, and boy did she have some issues."

"Please, don't tell me the story Matterhorn, I just want to learn how to approach mares."

"Tough. Listen up, Archie."

So, this was back in about one-thousand three, I was in Ponyville on business, or pleasure or something, who knows. I was suited up and looking LEGENDARY.

Anyway, there I was, when this nicely toned piece of mare with hind legs like tree-trunks sits down next to me at the bar. The unicorn serving us obviously knew her, so he pours her a drink without her even saying a word, and it was the same kind of scotch that I freaking adore.

That was the first indication - ordering a “guy” drink; well, actually, there is another reason that a mare would order a guy drink, but that’s a different lesson and a whole new play entirely. I’ll teach you how to deal with that kind of chick later on. I also noticed what she was wearing - namely, a hat.

“Shush, Archie. Stallions are talking.”

The important thing about this hat was all in the design. It was brown felt, a stetson, the kind normally not worn by the type to be doing the down to earth work, more closer to that of the owner of the farm. Looking at her hooves, and especially those hind legs, I mean, damn. Filly’s got plot, y’know? Anyway, yeah, the hat was pristine, but everything about this mare said hard-working and in need of a good spelunking.

“Pfft.”

As I was saying, so, I turned to her, and dropped my voice an octave or two. Pay attention to that, Archie - mares love a deep-voiced stallion, says something to their primal instincts.

“Long day, huh?” I asked her, sipping my scotch.

“They always are.” she replied. Her voice was lovely - one of those cute rustic accents where all the I’s sound like ‘Ah’, it was smooth, but strong; like the scotch funnily enough.

“Y’know, my dad always says that a hard day’s work is a reward to itself when the day is done.”

“Mah pappy once said the same thing.”

“He sounds like a wise stallion.”

“Was a wise stallion.” she replied, looking into her drink again.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“S’alright. Ah’m Applejack.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m Matterhorn.”

“Well, Matterhorn, Ah should really be goin’. Ah’ve got an early start tomorrow, gettin’ the fields ploughed ready for planting some barley.” she said, pulling a couple of bits out of her saddlebag and tossing them into the jar behind the bar. The barpony tipped his flat cap to her, and I downed the rest of my drink.

“Mind if I walk you home? It’s a cold night.”

“Sure, that’s mighty polite of ya, Matterhorn.”

It turned out that her home was this freaking huge farm, quite a distance outside of the little town. We talked a little more, and I could tell that she was definitely going to be ‘climbing the Matterhorn’ tonight.

When we finally got to hers, it was absolutely freezing outside. I could see my breath and everything - but, well, I was watching AJ’s rump in front of me. You’ve got to remember to keep your eyes on the prize whenever you think things are going to get too tough.

“It was kinda sweet of ya to walk me home, you’re a decent stallion, Matterhorn.” she said, opening the door to the barn, rather than walking back to house itself, “the kind that my pappy would’ve wanted me to bring home someday.”

“Well, you have brought me home.” I said, inching closer, my face less than a foot away from hers. I could smell the whiskey still on her breath, but she wasn’t drunk - which was impressive.

“I... Ah don’t know, sugar cube, Ah mean, mah granny ‘n sister ‘n-”

She was babbling, so I kissed her. She tasted great, and soon had her forelegs wrapped around my neck, pulling my tie off whilst she dragged me into the barn to lay in the warm, dry hay with her. She sure was... enthusiastic, she even ripped my shirt right off - really, I should have told her about the buttons, but I was a bit too preoccupied with those beautiful legs. I levitated the hat off of her, and tried to remove the loop from her mane, but that was a little complicated considering that my little cowgirl was trying to get into a certain positio-

“Pfft. Fine, you can have the ‘teen’ rated version.”

Anyway, we woke up in the morning with this HUGE red stallion standing over us. He did not seem happy - my first assumption was husband... don’t look at me like that, Archie - She didn’t mention him.

“You’ve got thirty seconds before Ah introduce you to a whole world of hurt, boy. Applejack, you’re late for helping with the ploughing, why?”

“She was getting ploughed.” I replied, winking at the blushing mare who was struggling to get all of the hay out of her mane.

I don’t think I’ve ever galloped faster than I did when running from that guy. When he eventually gave up, I found myself in the middle of freaking nowhere.

“Alright now, Archie - take a look around the bar, what do you see?”

You look around, and see a white earth-pony mare in the corner of the room with her friends. You think that it’s simply her gorgeous jet-black mane hanging around her face that has you so enticed, until you notice the drink by her hooves - a pint of cold apple cider, opposed to the fruity and exotic looking drinks of her peers.

As she bursts into laughter at one of her companions, she brushes her mane aside to reveal several ear-piercings. Looking more, you also see a set of silver dog-tags hung around her neck.

“Bingo.” Matterhorn says, “I’ll get her friends away. When she’s alone, just go and talk to her, okay? I’m not expecting you to score, but from what I’ve seen of you so far, just a phone number would be a result.”

Without skipping a beat, Matterhorn gets up from his seat, and trots over to the giggling group of fillies, who all look him over, you notice. Full of confidence and charm, you hear him ask the mares to go with him.

“Hello, ladies. I’m hung like a horse, and looking for some mares to entertain tonight. How about...” he points at three of the four, “You, you and you, come with me?”

“Oh? Why not me?” The mare you had been looking at asks,

“Well, firstly, there’s only one of me,” Matterhorn says, grinning, before grabbing you and dragging you in front of her, “Secondly, haaaave you met Archie?”

You try your best to smile, and greet her shakily whilst Matterhorn trots out of the bar, mares in tow. She looks you up and down, and smiles back, her blue eyes looking into yours.

“Hi, I’m Songbird, it’s nice to meet you, Archie.”

Panicking slightly, you try to remember what Matterhorn had taught you, sweat beginning to form beads on your forehead. Glancing at Songbird, she simply smiles, and brushes her mane to behind her ear.

“So... uh, would you like another drink?” you ask, giving up on the lesson learned. Songbird giggles, and points her hoof at the three-quarter full glass of cider in front of her.

“I’m alright, but thank you, maybe I’ll take you up on that later?”

“Oh...” you reply, saddened at being rejected, and you turn away.

“Hey, hey, I’m all alone, don’t you want to keep me company?” Songbird says, making you turn back to her. You sit next to her, and your nerves get the better of you, making you silent.

“First time talking to a mare in a bar, right?” Songbird asks, putting a hoof on yours.

“Y...yeah.” you reply, forcing your voice lower, as Matterhorn suggested.

“Y’know, I heard pretty much everything that your unicorn friend said. Sounds like quite a story, if I’m honest.”

“H...how?”

“My thing is acoustics. I have flawless hearing, and I’m quite a good lip-reader. I’m actually the sound engineer for Vinyl Scratch’s new tour.”

“No way? That’s awesome!” you exclaim, noticing that Songbird had once again run her hoof through her hair.

“Anyway, what your friend said about Daddy Issues, is mostly completely wrong, and just a little offensive.”

“I’m sorry...” you start, before a new idea comes into your mind, “So... how should I approach mares?”

“Just be yourself. You don’t need any fancy psychology, there’s somepony out there for everypony. I actually think the whole father-son thing you two have is kind of cute.”

“Father-son thing?”

“Yeah, him trying to teach you, and being so hopeless at it.” Songbird replies, giggling once more and leaning closer to you, “Also, scotch is terrible, would you like to try some cider?”

“Sure.” you reply, moving to take the glass.

Before you get chance, Songbird takes the glass from you and has a sip, before planting her lips on yours, completely to your surprise, her tongue invading your mouth and tasting of the sweet golden drink, made from delicious Sweet Apple Acres apples.

Next Chapter: 2 - Savaged by a Rare and Beautiful Creature Estimated time remaining: 10 Minutes