Now that the Derby was over and done with, Luke couldn’t really regret his choice of attire so much, especially considering the unusual—even for Canterlot—warmth of the night. Celestia had lowered the sun probably an hour or so ago, but a humid warmth still hung heavy in the air. If he’d have worn a suit, it would have been clinging to him with sweat by now.

Late night patrons of the many bars and clubs dotted the streets of Canterlot, their swivelling ears seeking out the muffled sound of thumping, repetitive music like little fuzzy radar dishes. Being a Friday night, they were no doubt eager to blow off some steam, and probably the majority of their wages as well.

Luke may have been inclined to do the same, but all of his finances had been going towards a small savings account, the end goal of which was to get him the hell out of the dilapidated shithole that was his current apartment. Had he been a pony, the small endeavour of saving up for a mortgage deposit might have been an easy feat, especially with the crazy amount of bits Fleur was paying him.

But, Luke was not a pony.

This, coupled with the fact the Crown Bank was run pretty much exclusively by nobles nowadays, meant he didn’t have a pegasus in a thunderstorm’s chance of ever having quite enough.

Four times. Four times they had inexplicably raised the deposit percentage on the modest little apartment uptown he was trying to buy, with a ridiculous thirty five percent being the latest requirement. The place was perfect, as well. Practically a stone’s throw away from work. Celestia might’ve had something to say about their obvious prejudice, but the mere thought of yet another bail out invalidated the fuck out of the pitiful remnants of his man card. She had got him the job, and that had been more than enough. Of course, the option of just renting a nicer place remained, but that just seemed like a waste now that the bits were flowing in.

Rounding the corner of a small apothecary, a mini heart attack presented itself in the form of a certain long-legged siren standing there on the lime-tinted cobble, a large grin on her face, those huge eyes and that oversized purple bow making her look like something from a Japanese anime.

“Jees, woman! Are you trying to scare me to death?”

“I thought you did not like me teleporting right in front of you, no?” she quipped, wiggling her hindquarters mischievously, so that her tail swayed hypnotically from side to side.

“Yeah, the slendermare approach isn’t really much of an improvement,” Luke observed, trying to tear his wandering eyes away from her ass. Seeing as her cutie mark was effectively a famous brand logo, it was kind of like she had designer flanks. The fact he found that notion so… alluring made his cheeks redden in shame.

“Do I have something on my flank?” Fleur half-squeaked, worriedly glancing back over her withers.

Crap. Luke was quick to flick his gaze to an advertisement for traditional herbal medicines in the shop window. “Other than a fashion icon, no,” he muttered. She’s your boss, she’s your boss, she’s your boss—stahp staring at her butt! With quick clearing of the throat, he went for a casual lean against a standing floor sign belonging to the apothecary. “So, how’d your little meeting go with-ahhfack!”

CLATTER.

Turns out the sign was quite a bit lighter than first envisioned.

“Oh, my!” Fleur spluttered, her face throwing out equal measures of mirth and concern. “Are you ‘urt?”

Luke barely managed to sit up before she was sat on her haunches right by his side, forehooves already checking for injury and horn charged up in readiness.

“M’fine,” he grumbled, internally cursing the stupid thing with the foulest language he could think of. As if she had just caught him staring at her ass, then he’d fell on his ass right in front of her. Real smooth, Luke, you fucking pillock!

Fleur’s cheeks puffed out, hooves still roaming his form for any sign of cuts or bruises, eyes brimming with restraint.

“Go on, you can laugh. Someone might as well.”

Her ears fell, as did the rest of her. She ended up leaning heavily into his side, mane haphazardly falling on his shoulder, laughing her flanks off in the middle of the street. Several ponies stopped to have a good rubberneck at the commotion. The ones that weren’t drunk started pointing hooves and whispering to each other in hushed, excited voices.

“As much as I hate to interrupt your amusement at my expense, we should probably get out of here before somepony snaps a photo of us rolling around in the street,” Luke muttered, his arm instinctively wrapping around the still giggling unicorn so she didn’t end up face-planting the ground herself.

“Oh, Luc… Forgive me,” she snorted, her muzzle bumping the underside of chin more than once. “I ‘ave not laughed like zat in quite some time.”

“Yes, well, at least one of us got a kick out of it,” he muttered, quickly getting to his feet and uprighting the downed sign. Fleur’s laughter died at the sudden absence of bodily contact, and her ears dropped a shade, as well. He might’ve felt a little guilty for not letting the little kinda-sorta cuddle continue, but it was important to remember that she was a supermodel. A supermodel with a lot of die hard, psycho fans that would probably make it their number one priority to hunt him down with torches and pitchforks if the editors of the many bloodthirsty gossip magazines plaguing the city ever got their grubby hooves on a pic of him with an arm wrapped around her.

Stallion’s Weekly had already heavily implied that their relationship was “perhaps more than that of the average employer and employee,” and that was without a scrap of evidence. Luke paled at the thought of what they would write if they ever knew the truth. As far as he knew, Fleur didn’t really make a habit of hanging around with her employees after working hours. Well, with the exception of ponies like Photo Finish, and perhaps the make up mares whose names he kept forgetting. But even then, they were still doing a job.

“So, where would you like to go for zat drink, mon cher?” Fleur practically purred, undeterred by his minor evasiveness, it seemed. She was on her hooves again, already trotting a few paces down the street, ears rotating left and right as she scanned the various shop fronts with mild interest.

“Somewhere where you won’t get papped?” Luke hopefully suggested, dragging his feet along after her. It would be nice to find a quiet bar to just sit down and relax, without being bothered by the press, or starstruck fans, or ponies that just wanted to know what a hyoo-man looked like up close. If he had a bit for every colt or filly that trotted up to him and give him a lengthy blast of wholly inappropriate staring, he’d have… well, four bits. But that wasn’t the point. Sometimes the parents were there as well, and did they tell their annoying spawn to maybe cut that shit out? No. Of course they fucking didn’t.

“Well, zat narrows things down to the company ‘eadquarters, the inside of my estate, provided we stay away from the perimeter, of course, and maybe a couple of the stricter honourable mares’ clubs in the Equinox district. Zey tend to keep the paparazzi out, but I cannot say what their stance on you will be,” Fleur pondered aloud, trotting in slow, small circles around him, not unlike a curious feline might around a new toy. “Zey aren’t going to say no to somepony like me, but zey probably wouldn’t be good company for someone like you,” she said, her grin perhaps a little wide for his liking.

“In other words, they’re full of narcissistic ‘noble’ asshats, then?”

“Zat is one way of putting it, oui.”

“Well, that rules that out.” Of the ponies that frequented the Equinox district, even those on the ‘bearable’ end of the noble spectrum were bad enough.

“I actually own a nightclub, but it is being restored at the moment. Hmm… ‘ow about zis,” Fleur proposed, a bottle of wine materialising in front of her in a flash of pink. “We ‘ave a clandestine drink in the street, while I… um, walk you ‘ome?”

Luke blinked. “Walk me home? Isn’t that supposed to be the other way around?” he queried, paling a little. The thought of potentially being invited back to Fleur’s huge mansion was… well, terrifying, but exciting at the same time, mainly because of what might occur there. Not that he was implying anything would, of course. But, Little Miss Water Demon could potentially show herself. Maybe, she’d have free reign to come out and play? Such a notion should have scared him, and it might well have done, a few weeks ago…

“Well, of course not! The mare always walks the stallion ‘ome. It would just be silly the ozzer way around,” Fleur countered, trying to pass the conviction in her tone off as a playful facade. He knew she was just testing the waters.

It had quickly become apparent during Luke’s short time in Equestria that the nation was primarily mare dominant. There was a reason the place was ruled by Princesses, after all. Luke hadn’t a clue what it was, but certain gender roles appeared to have swapped sides. Stallions were big, masculine enough to fit the bill of being a bodyguard for a pretty mare, and most of them generally acted pretty similar to the human versions of the gender back home. But, at the same time, mares would often go out of their way to be the main breadwinner of a family, fight for the right to be with the stallion of their choosing, and just generally be the main instigators of things such as relationships.

“You know I’m not a stallion, right?” Luke reminded her.

“And you know zat doesn’t matter to me,” Fleur coolly replied, her eyelids lowering over that slightly blue tinted gaze.

And, there it was, as expected—that look a mare sometimes gets when she simply will not accept ‘no’ as a viable answer. This would have been fine. Great, even, were it not for the fact Luke currently resided in the indoor equivalent of a dumpster. This mare had grown accustomed to luxury beyond the average pony’s wildest dreams. What the hell was she going to think of him when she found out he lived like a fucking squatter?

“Eh… Maybe we should-” Luke began… but, no. That wouldn’t work, either. If he suggested going back to her place, then it would just come off as pushy and way too forward… Or, would it? Taking into consideration the gender role flip—would it perhaps be like a chick wanting to go back to a guy’s place back home? It was weird as shit to think of himself as the ‘chick’, but to Fleur, he might well be just that very thing. It was almost like she was putting the moves on him. Fuck… it was just so confusing.

And kind of flattering. Like, holy shit—a freakin’ supermodel was trying to ‘woo’ him.

“Forgive me, Luc. I do not wish to be intrusive. It is just… the night is so young, and I like spending time with you,” she said, gazing up at him with weary eyes. Her ears had flattened a shade, and it may have been a trick of the light, but he could’ve sworn she was pouting a little.

Shit. It was hard to say no to that beautiful face. She was right—it wasn’t particularly late. But… If he agreed to let her ‘walk him home’, he could hardly turn her away at the door when they arrived. Perhaps a warning was required. “Alright. But, I should probably mention, my apartment is… modest.”

Fleur blinked, a peculiar smile spreading over her muzzle. “Zat also does not matter to me, mon cher.”

Luke gave the mare a comically wide grin. “Eh, heh-heh… hold that thought,” he muttered, giving her a solid boop on the snoot and promptly setting off along the street. Welp. There wasn’t any point wasting time. If she was going to see the cesspit de Luke, then it was perhaps better to get the ordeal over and done with so she could start judging him.

So much for his as-yet untarnished image.

Fleur blinked adorably, her grin widening and one of her ears flopping back against that ridiculously oversized bow. “I am sure it is not zat bad,” she laughed, breaking out into a slow canter at his side. “Where do you live?”

Luke drew in a breath. Shouldn’t she already know? She was his boss after all… Unless the admin staff took care of all that stuff. Yeah, they more than likely did. “Slateside.”

Fleur blinked, almost missing a step. “Oh.”

“Annnd, you’re judging me,” Luke confronted, holding his head high like the most righteous of snot nosed nobles.

“I am not judging you, mon amour.”

“Liar,” Luke shot back at her, his feet automatically turning left onto Stonesaddle street. It was one of the few roads that led into Slateside—a neighborhood which was pretty much the Canterlot equivalent of an English council estate.

“No, Luc—I-” Fleur began, but stopped dead in her tracks, eyes fixed on a small charcoal-coated bat pony sat on her haunches at the intersection.

Luke’s heart leapt up into his throat at the sight of the thestral. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fucking Stonesaddle street! How could he have forgotten? The adorable little bat pony’s pointy ears swivelled, her amber feline-esque eyes rolling upwards. Her little face simply lit up when she spotted him.

She’d went all out tonight. Long purple and black socks, lurid fishnets over her flanks, and her long, bushy purple tail hairbanded multiple times at the dock. Everything was on display.

Luke frantically waved a flat hand at his throat behind Fleur’s back, his expression manic. If Glory pulled her usual spiel of trying to get into his pants in front of Fleur, well… he wasn’t sure what would happen, and he wasn’t particularly keen on finding out, either.

“Hi, Luke!” the bat pony purred, flicking her tongue over her fangs. “Are you finally going to let me r-”

“Ahhhh-dah-dah-dah… Eh… heh… Glory… Hi,” Luke gasped, sweat suddenly running down his brow. Fleur’s puzzled look suddenly became very apparent.

“Do you know zis pony?” she asked, eyes flicking between them.

“Wait… Are you… you’re Fleur de Lis…,” Glory muttered, squinting through curly bangs. Her heavily mascara framed gaze flicked back up to him. “Luke… why are you walking through the red light district with Fleur de Lis?” she chuckled.

Fleur’s eyebrows raised even higher. “You’re on first name terms with a hooker?”

Luke flinched so hard he nearly stumbled. “Look—this is the quickest way home from work for me, and I’ve been pulling some late nighters these past couple of weeks, in case you hadn’t noticed,” he argued, levelling his boss with a stern look. “She kept, uh… saying hello. What was I supposed to do—blank her?”

“Ahem—I prefer mare of the night,” Glory interjected, sluttily flicking her tail with a lurid grin, little pointy fangs on display. Both Luke and Fleur ignored her.

“Why not take a carriage?”

“Carriages cost bits.”

“Tartarus, Luc, you can get all the carriage rides you want on your expenses account. Just use zat!”

“I have an expenses account?”

“Yes! Did Sunfire not give you your cheque book?”

“Wait… you work at J’adore?” Glory interrupted, her eyes lighting up like solar flares. “Here I was thinking your ass was broke,” she laughed, flaring her leathery wings. “So, how about it? You gonna put those bits to good use, stud?” The lewd bat pony flagged her tail like a broodmare in heat.

Fleur’s scowl turned into a blue-tinted glare. “Excusez-moi?” she growled, the deadly blue aura of her horn piercing the night, fangs a lot longer than the bat pony’s extending into view.

“Glory… please, I’m flattered, but no,” Luke quickly countered. Fleur was looking like she was about to go all murder-corn on the clueless mare. She had quite enough bad press flying through the grapevine at the moment without throwing ‘dead hooker’ into the mix. “C’mon, Fleur, it’s not far now,” he muttered, subconsciously trailing fingertips over her withers.

The delicate contact was just enough to chip away at the siren’s sudden mood swing. Her horn delaminated, eyes slowly returning to their usual violet, she allowed herself to be led away.

“What the… Are you a vampony, or something?” Glory called from somewhere behind them.

Fleur didn’t bother turning back, but her ears gave a noticeable flick, and her mouth was perhaps thinner than Luke had ever seen it. He made a mental note to speak to Sunfire the very first thing Monday morning regarding that expenses account.

Barely five minutes of silent strolling later, and Luke found himself gazing up at the four storey apartment complex, the washed out white stone looking even more drab and depressing than it usually did. The small patch of greenery leading up to the communal lobby was noticeably unkempt, populated mainly by various weeds and shrubs. The landlord only ever showed her face when sompony wasn’t keeping up with their rent arrears. Luke very much doubted even the simplest of horticulture would be very high on her list of priorities.

Fleur, effortlessly stunning knockout as she was, looked ridiculously out of place in front of the mundane building. Luke knew in an instant she was trying to keep her face as neutral as possible, but the subtle tells were there.

“Um… Would you like to come inside?”

The mare’s petit nostrils wriggled a bit, probably due to the overflowing trash cans beside the entrance, but she lifted her chin regardless. “I would like that very much, mon cher.”

She even managed to make the words sound sincere. Luke grinned at the sheer effort. Let’s see how long that lasts. Taking out an old brass key from his pocket, he jammed it into the lock. Several seconds later, the useless old mechanism finally gave the rusty click he was waiting for, and with a good kick, the door yielded, revealing the crappy interior.

“Come on in,” Luke said, stepping into the lobby with a smile, allowing Fleur to trot on tepid hooves past him. He closed the door after her, the familiar musty smell filling his lungs.

If Fleur had any reaction to the odour, she managed to hide it well. “Thank you,” she replied, violet orbs flicking from the mildly stained carpet, to the old set of mailboxes built into the hallway wall, several of them sporting large dents.

“My place is on the ground floor.” Stopping at the third door on the right, number seven, Luke took out a second, smaller key, though this one’s corresponding lock put up a bit more of a fight, as per usual. “Ugh… One moment,” he muttered, wrestling with the stupid thing. It was almost as if the apartment itself was ashamed of her very presence.

The door opposite suddenly opened, revealing an unshaven earth stallion wearing a tatty old nightgown, his brown mane and tail in a dishevelled state. He gave a wide mouthed yawn, blinking groggily as though he hadn’t seen sunlight for days. A strong smell of cider joined the must hanging in the hallway. “Oh, hey, Luke. I was wondering when you’d get back. I’ve ran out of sugar, you don’t happen to have…” he slurred, but the words died, his tongue falling out the side of his mouth when his sleepy gaze landed on the international billionaire supermodel stood casually in the hallway. Poor guy looked like he was about to have a seizure.

“I’ll take a look, Brockhoof,” Luke chuckled. “Just pick your jaw up off the carpet. You know old Iron Teats never has it cleaned.”

Click. “Ah. There it is.”

With a strained creak, the door swung inwards. Brockhoof’s jaw flapped a few times, but it appeared the gift of speech had temporarily abandoned him. Fleur’s friendly smile further sealed his sudden vegetative state. She deftly stepped inside.

Even as the door closed, the stallion stood like a petrified statue. “Is ‘ee going to be okay?”

“Eh, he’ll be fine. Probably won’t remember anything when he wakes up tomorrow afternoon,” Luke said, throwing his keys down on a small pile of scrolls on the side table. “Anyway, what do you think?” he asked, his grin wry.

The supermodel took a couple of steps, which was all her long shapely legs were able to without bumping into the coffee table. Muzzle scrunched, one of her ears gave a solitary flick, eyes surveying the room with increasing levels tongue holding. “You… You have a sink in your lounge,” she observed.

“Yes, yes, or… perhaps it’s a couch in my kitchen,” he countered, plonking himself down on said couch, though his grin soured a bit when one of the exposed springs gave him a good poke in the backside. Oww…

Fleur opened her mouth to say something, but then thought better of it. She looked a little lost, gaze still sweeping over the peeling wallpaper, a forehoof hovering in the air as though she was about to take a seat beside him, but couldn’t quite will herself to do so.

Luke’s grin faded. This… This had been a dumb idea from the start. “I did try and warn you,” he gloomily muttered.

Fleur’s ears dropped. “Why do you live like zis, Luc?” she slowly asked, eyes full of something that looked a lot like sorrow. It didn’t make him feel any better. “I know you said modest, but zis… Am I not paying you enough? Because I can-”

“No, no, it’s not that, it’s just,” he began, the scrolls on the side table taunting him from afar. He knew he shouldn’t bother her with this. Fleur had much more important things to be dealing with.

“Just what?” she prompted, her eyes, so full of concern, looked even prettier than they usually did framed by those silky pink locks. Maybe he could tell her? It would certainly be nice to discuss the issue with a friend. It wasn’t like he was asking for a bail out, or anything. Advice was all he needed.

Fuck it. “I didn’t want to rent a more expensive place, because I’ve been trying to buy a place uptown. But, everytime I go in for a mortgage consultancy, they go and up the deposit. Just… take a look at that scroll on the side table. It should put things into perspective.”

Fleur frowned, her pink aura instantly grabbing the Crown Bank parchment. It floated through the air, unravelling itself and stopping in front of her. She read, and the frown deepened into a full blown scowl by the time her eyes reached the bottom. “Zey have no right to do zis! I cannot believe the Crown Bank would stoop so low. I shall seek out zis-” she glanced at the name of the mortgage consultant “-Equity Rose, and ask her just what in Tartarus she is playing at.”

“Fleur, you don’t need to do that-” Luke began, but the mare had already slipped into full on business mode. There was no stopping her now.

“If the buck stops with her, then she will lose her job,” Fleur all but growled, the scroll slipping out of her aura and landing on the coffee table. “If she is taking orders from the ‘igher ups—probably the more likely scenario, I am ashamed to say—zen the Crown Bank will not only lose zeir biggest client, but zey will probably earn the wrath of zeir founder as well, for I can guarantee she knows nozzing of zis,” she added, her accent flaring with the passion behind her words.

“Woah, hold on a second. You don’t need to go bothering Celestia with-”

“Luc, come with me tonight. I cannot in good conscience leave you to live like… zis!” the supermodel cried, waving her hoof overdramatically around the small apartment. “Especially considering zese ‘eartless ‘nobles’-” she spat, the word rolling off her tongue like snake venom “-are making up excuses to deny you the means to start a better life.”

“Come with you? What do you mean?”

Luke’s words finally gave her pause, the resultant ear flop suggesting she may have gotten a tad ahead of herself. “I do not mean to brag,” she began, quite a bit more quietly than before, “but zeir are seven suites in my home, five of which are unoccupied. You are welcome to use any one of zem you like until you are able to find a suitable place of your own.”

Luke’s eyes widened. Did… Did she just freakin’ ask him to move in with her? “That’s really not necessary… kinda feels like I would be imposing a bit,” he muttered, despite already picturing Fleur fresh out of the shower early morning, her wet mane and tail trailing on the floor. Perhaps they could even make a habit of walking to work together… Damn it.

Her lips thinned, ears perking right back up in defiance. “Luc, you ‘ave mice living in your walls, not to mention zat big ‘ole over zeir,” she argued, pointing to a football-sized crater in the plaster, through which a small patch of white stone could be seen, as well as a tiny bit of night sky.

“There’s normally a mirror covering that. It fell off the other day. I just haven’t got around to fixing the hook yet. And I do not have mice.” Probably not, anyway. Judging by the scratching sounds at night, it was more than likely rats.

Fleur’s horn flared, and an unnerving number of small rodents came crawling out of the woodwork, chased by the magically induced heatwave she’d just conjured inside the interior wall. That’s what it felt like, anyway. Fucking OP unicorns, man.

“Okay, so maybe I have a few mice.”

Fleur puffed out her chest, raising her horn high and levelling him with an annoying look that simply screamed I told you so. “Luc.”

“What?”

“Pack your essentials. I shall teleport zem ahead, then we shall walk to my estate, so you know where to find it,” she said, in a tone of voice that simply dared him to argue.

Luke, recognising a battle he would not win, merely let slip a tired sigh. “You’re not taking ‘no’ for an answer, are you?”

The supermodel smiled, simply beaming now she had gotten her way. “Non.”

To those of you that are wondering, there is a fairly high chance that lewd things may or may not happen next chapter.

Also, thanks to ScrambledCrackers for help pre-reading this chapter.

Let me know if we missed anything.