“Just wait here, darling,” Rarity says demurely. She would get up, but his hand is stuck in her mane. Except, it’s not really stuck, so much as his fingers are eagerly digging deeper into her neck. Rarity imagines that Applejack loves it when he does this, and finds it increasingly difficult to tell him to stop. Her back arches slightly, her eyes half-lidding; she certainly wouldn’t want to break him of this habit!

“So, do you have sourcebooks?” Doug asks, voice dripping with anticipation. He sits up, setting his bottle to the side. His second hand joins the first, now working both sides of her neck. She doesn’t seem to mind when he splits her meticulously styled mane, thumbs pressing along her spine as he takes his sweet time getting to her withers.

“I believe I have the triple R upstairs.” Rarity can almost feel his eyelid squishing together, just his hands grip into her and then stay put. “Roles, Rolls, and Rules.”

“Yes.” Doug’s hand lightly slaps Rarity’s flank, and she automatically lurches forward with a slight gasp. “Go get that.”

“As you wish.” Rarity’s tail flags just the barest amount as she trots out of the room, a mischievous smile as she takes the glow of her horn with her.

This leaves Doug’s gaze free to wander around her darkened storeroom. Ponnequins loom in the windows like creatures of the night, serrated wings of cloth spreading as if ready to pounce. He shudders, takes another swig of his cider, and folds his legs against himself. The creaks and groans of the store don’t help his nerves, coupled with the dull throb of his legs. The occasional thump, or sharp tap, or dull thud of a hoof on the floor comes from above, or one of the storerooms, or perhaps right behind him; it’s difficult to tell with the echoes and the dark.

All of a sudden a light in the back room clicks on, illuminating the mare standing in the doorway. Her mane curls to stylized perfection, elegantly draping down the black silk dress that peeks out from under her maroon trenchcoat, a blue book tucked in a pocket. Smooth fabric hugs her barrel like a jealous lover, a long slit down her chest revealing a sleek, stainless white figure. A similar cut lets her tail sway freely, barely kissing the floor with every shake of her shapely, if concealed, flanks. A dark fedora graces her head, tilting up to let her fully take in Doug’s stunned reaction.

Doug’s mouth opens just a fraction. He struggles to find the words, just taking in the sight. He eventually raises an arm to point, his eyes widening in suppressed glee. “Is that?”

“Do you like it?” Rarity asks demurely, basking in the adoration. She gives a sultry wink as she strikes another pose just by shifting to the side. “All you have to do is ask.”

“Can I?” Doug asks breathlessly, his hand beckoning. He turns to fully face her, legs crossed in his seated position.

“As you wish.” Rarity takes short, agonizingly slow steps, relishing the rumbling groan of the human. She stops just outside of his reach, delicately raising one foreleg as if pondering something. The ‘what’ isn’t important, only that she can revel in the way his body leans towards her. After a short delay - she doesn’t want to torture him too badly, not yet - she takes those last two steps. Hands come up to briefly brush against her cheeks before running along her neck. She moans as he hits the dress, feeling a bit lighter as one hand slips a single finger inside. She can barely keep her eyes open as he traces along her chest, and Rarity can imagine that moon-cursed appendage travelling all the way down her barrel if only nothing was in its way.

“This is amazing,” Doug says, almost to himself, absentmindedly running his hand through the soft fur.

“Mm,” Rarity purrs, luxuriating in his touch. If he was using both hands, she’s sure, she would have succumbed already! She leans forward, just slightly, her muzzle wet with anticipation.

Except she runs into his forehead instead of his lips.

Rarity opens an eye to the crinkle of paper turning. She glances down, spotting her blue rulebook open in his lap. He’s opened it to the table of contents, his unoccupied hand marking his place as he skims through the chapters. Fingers deftly flip through the pages, briefly pausing at various tables and charts. She frowns, about to say something until she notices his twitching mouth and barely repressed smile and the way his eyes flick up to hers and then immediately break away. She can’t tell, the book blocks her view, but by his uncomfortable shifts she is guessing he is sporting quite the impressive erection.

Role-playing already? Well, two can play at that game.

“Oh, yes,” Rarity moans out in her best besotted voice, sloppily kissing the short mane. She pushes forward, carefully stepping around his bent legs, pressing his hand into her chest. And push back he does, like he’s trying to keep a clear line of sight to the book. She flexes her forelegs, up and down, forcing his hand to mimic the motions.

“T-this looks like a really interesting system,” Doug shakily states as Rarity’s horn lights, her trenchcoat ripping away - carefully, of course, she wouldn’t actually rip anything that wasn’t designed to - and exposing the black dress that perfectly accentuates her full-figured flanks.

“Tell me more,” whispers Rarity seductively, her head trailing kisses until she gets to his ear. She playfully nibbles, her tongue flicking out to run across the outer edge.

“W-well, there’s a lot o-of emphasis on skills.” Doug lets her chest fall, slipping the book out from between them as she rests against him.

Rarity grins as she lifts one foreleg and wraps around his chest, her weight pressing him further back. “What kind of skills?”

“Um,” Doug says as he falls back, awkwardly flipping through the pages of the book he’s holding up with the same hand. The other strokes Rarity’s head and mane, keeping her somewhat locked against him. “Profession, knowledge, disguise.”

“My favorite,” Rarity whispers in his ear as a hoof reaches towards her belly, “is charm.” She grins as she finds his member, even larger than she imagined.

“Yeah?” Doug winces, his whole body tensing. He flips another page, nonchalantly saying, “Oh, there it is.”

Talk about a natural one. Rarity frowns before she nearly slaps herself in the head with a hoof. Of course! I’m going about this all the wrong way! She pulls her hoof away from him, gently standing. He releases her without complaint, but she can see the question in his eyes. She gives him a soft nuzzle. “I’ll be right back.”

“S-sure,” Doug says, hoping he didn’t go too far. He tentatively goes back to the book as Rarity leaves, sighing to himself. He briefly gets up, sitting against the wall so the single light shines on the book a little better. He idly flips through, not really focusing on anything in particular, until several minutes later a shadow darkens the pages. He looks up, an unconscious smile quickly spreading.

Rarity stands in two pairs of thick boots crafted for climbing, not couture. The back pair have a long spike running along the outer side, able to be extended. Each looks sturdy enough to pierce into a rock wall and then support a stallion’s weight. The front pair have a different configuration, the sharp end pointing backwards. Tightly cinched around her barrel is a set of saddlebags, each with a zippered top instead of the loose fold on most styles. A cloth plate covers her belly, her back exposed. Her mane and tail are both drawn into a tight ponytail, spilling out like a waterfall from their bindings.

“Wow,” Doug utters dumbly, staring at the transformed unicorn. He rests the book by his side, and it’s quickly forgotten.

“I remembered what you said,” Rarity says quietly as she shows off the boots. Doug takes one hoof in his hand, running his fingers along the spike and heavy-duty laces, though they aren’t tightened down completely. She grins, especially as he tries to tuck a finger inside, mostly ending up tickling her leg. “About liking the ponytail.” She reaches back, balancing on two hooves, to flick her mane. “It’s a very utilitarian style, that shows somepony who is more interested in practicality than perceptions. And I figured I’d extend it to the whole look.” She smiles down at Doug, the human still enraptured. “Do you like it?”

“You look beautiful.” Doug pulls her closer, running a hand along her saddlebags, again slipping between her and the straps. “It seems awkward, though.” He glances up at her. “Is that what you wanted to do on our next expedition? Go climbing?”

“Correct, but only for a short, if necessary, distance. There are a number of caves, in the same area that we went last, that I’m hoping to explore.” She gives him a quick shake of her exposed flanks. “Unfortunately, not many unicorns are able to levitate another pony, much less themselves.” Rarity shrugs helplessly. “So, if I was to scale a cliff, I can’t exactly walk down. I would use my horn for the initial drilling of a hole, then jam these spikes in. Very slow, very methodical, alternate left and right about two hooves down each time.”

Rarity demonstrates climbing down on the floor, miming where she would place her hooves. The backwards placement of the foreleg spikes makes sense now, her body splayed out with her barrel along the ground. “I haven’t used them very frequently, and certainly not without a spotter.” She looks up at Doug. “Would you feel comfortable wearing something similar?”

“I dare say I’d be better at it than you,” Doug says with a quick wink. “Humans are practically made to climb things, and I’ve heard ponies have trouble going down stairs.”

“Yes, it does take some getting used to,” Rarity says with a bit of a chuckle. “Watching a foal learn to use a ladder can be an… entertaining experience, to say the least. As long as the floor is padded, that is.”

“I believe it.” Doug takes a long look at Rarity, reluctantly sighing. He grabs the rulebook, rolling over and propping himself up on Rarity’s side. His knees bend, propping the rulebook on his stomach as he lightly scratches at Rarity’s neck.

Rarity enjoys the scratches, no question about that, but she can’t help but frown at how engrossed Doug is with that rulebook. Even though she’s familiar with the material she sometimes has trouble with his quick pace, but that most likely is because he’s skipping through a lot of the fluff and longer descriptions to find new material. Her eyes narrow as a thought comes to her. “Were you really only interested in this book, and not in me?”

“Um,” Doug says nervously, letting go of the book to scratch at the back of his head. “No? I mean, the black dress looked good and all, but you were trying too hard.” He shrugs, going back to the book.

“And you like this look more?” Rarity frowns at the thought of adopting such an… Apple look as her own.

Doug turns his head to look down Rarity’s barrel in both directions. “Not necessarily,” he says after a bit of a delay. “They both look good, but that’s because you look good. And the other style takes more effort, I’m sure, and it’s unique to you.” He flips another page. “And it’s not like you use an excessive amount of makeup or anything, just enough to accentuate those eyes of yours.”

“Mm,” Rarity mutters. Nostallion has complimented my makeup usage before.

Doug flips another page. “So, was there anything else you wanted to do?” A snort accompanies his wry smile. “Applejack said I didn’t need to get back to the farm tonight.”

“Would this be your first sleepover, then?” Rarity asks, bemused.

“Nope,” Doug says, chuckling. “With someone, or somepony, of the opposite gender? Yes. Well, that I’m not herding with, that is.”

Rarity ponders for a brief moment. Her voice is serious. “Would you like to keep that streak going?”

“What?” Doug says, turning to look Rarity in the eyes. “I mean, sure, but have you thought this through?”

Rarity grits her teeth. “Now you sound like my sire.” She huffs, wanting to dig a hoof along the floor, yet it would scratch with her climbers on.

“Is that a bad thing?” Doug asks glibly. “I’m told that’s a common trait among women.”

“Mares, darling,” Rarity corrects, sighing. “And no, it’s not bad, per se.” She meets his gaze. “You like role-playing, yes?”

Doug nods with a superfluous, “Sure.”

“Then imagine this.” Rarity takes a deep breath, her breathing barely controlled. “You’re a stallion, who has learned that his precious filly has fallen head over hooves for somepony you don’t know.” She fumes at the injustice. “What do you do?”

“Hmm,” Doug says, matching Rarity’s tensed body with how she was acting when they met outside. “How about this.” He sits up, resting one hand on her withers. “You play the stallion, and I’ll play the prodigal young mare.”

Rarity’s eyes widen at the prospect, yet she finds herself nodding.

Next Chapter: Ch. 48 - Mask of the Spirit Drinker* Estimated time remaining: 9 Hours, 33 Minutes