So Crook and I went to Close Shave’s. I gotta say, I was feeling pretty good about… well… everything. Crook had pulled a little public shame show over on Applejack, and I was no longer giving myself an aneurism worrying about Derpy. Crook was seemingly distraught, and wore a frown as we made our way towards town.

“What’sa matter?” I asked, my Manehattan accent rearing its head.

Crook’s concerned visage twisted further. “I dunno, Guilty. I’m not so sure about this old guy.”

“You mean Close? Why? Not scared of him, are ya?” I teased.

Crook punched me in the shoulder. “I’m not fuckin’ scared. I’m just worried I might not have both my ears after this. Guy that age? Prob’ly senile. Prob’ly has cataracts. Prob’ly both.”

I scoffed. “Geez, Crook, the guy’s sixty-somethin’, not fuckin’ ninety. Besides, I’ve been gettin’ trims from him just about since I came here. He knows what he’s doin’.”

A wicked grin began to spread across Crook’s lips as he roped me into a half-hug. “There’s the Manehattan Guilty. I’ve been missin’ him ever since mama gave us those fuckin’ etiquette lessons.” He chuckled and smiled warmly at me. “You oughtta drop that fuckin’ ‘proper’ voice, more often; you sound better this way.” He noogied me affectionately.

I failed to suppress a smile. “Fuck off!” I almost chuckled as I managed to throw the stallion off of me. “At least the lessons even stuck for me. She gave up tryin’ ta get you to drop the accent.”

“Hey… it’s part a’ my charm,” he explained. “I’m a package deal, my friend. You take away one part a’ Crook… you lose the whole thing.”

I face-hoofed. “You’re fuckin’ retarded.”

Crook feigned offense. “Well, fuck you too, then.” He shook his head. “Geez, ya think ya know somepony.”

Soon enough we arrived at the barber shop. Crook swallowed purposefully as we stepped in the front door. He’s such an ass sometimes.

I love that about him.

Close was busy trimming some young colt as we walked inside. He snuck a glance at us and immediately scowled. “Where in fuck have you two been? I been waitin’ on you since I opened. I said first thing in the morning, ya fuckin’ mooks.” He returned his attention to the small child who now wore a wide-eyed expression of shock. Close caught sight of the mortified child and cleared his throat. “There’s a sucker in it for ya if ya don’t tell yer dad about that,” he said, tugging guiltily at his collar. The colt’s face immediately lit up as he mimed zipping his mouth closed. “That’s a good kid.” Close chuckled heartily as he continued to snip away at the child’s hair.

“Sorry, Close. I had chores to do. Somepony’s gotta clean up after Crook, here,” I explained.

“Yeah, well… don’t let it happen again. I’ll finish up with Hammer Head, here, you two go take a seat.” He swiped around the scissors in the air and pointed them at us menacingly. “And don’t fuckin’ break nothin’!”

I sighed. “Close, the only thing in your waiting room is a gumball machine and porn.” Crook perked up and the mention of smut and wordlessly left for the waiting room.

“Well, then, don’t fuckin’ break ‘em!” he called as I turned to follow Crook.

As I entered the tacky little waiting room, Crook let out a low whistle, already nose deep in a years old issue of Playcolt. He sat on the opposite side of the room from an awkward looking stallion who was almost certainly the kid’s father. He was blushing rather fiercely, and sat with his legs crossed.

See, this is why I wear pants.

“Guilty, you remember this issue?” spoke Crook.

I eyed the rag in question. A rather attractive orange mare wearing white lace adorned the front. “Can’t say I do.”

“Do you remember, uh… oh, what was his fuckin’ name…?” Crook brought a hoof to his chin as he perused the antique smut. “Salty somethin’.”

“Salty Shores?” I offered. He was an old classmate of ours.

“Yeah. Do you remember how he had that Playcolt he was so proud of?”

I scanned my memories. “Vaguely. Why? Is that the issue?”

He shook his head. “Nah, nah… he got it stolen this one time. That guy Curly took it.”

I cringed. I remembered Curly. Curly was this fucking tool of a child. He was held back two years so he was big stallion on campus, literally. He was a head taller than anyone in school. He also had this bright red curly mane that you could see a mile away. He was a bully, pure and simple. He actually knocked one of my teeth out, once. Crook tangled with him a few times. I don’t think either of them ever had a definitive victory, though. Crook was big, but Curly was bigger.

That said, I certainly had my own personal victory over Curly. After I’d started working at the stable I didn’t go to school all the time, but I did go on occasion. One day in high school, he and his girl at the time had a fight. I happened to be there for the fallout, and I managed to be her immediate rebound. She and I got frisky in a utility closet, and I managed to seal the deal. She told me that even if I was shorter, I was bigger where it counted.

I don’t often win in the size department so I was very pleased to hear that.

Thinking on it, she was actually the first mare I ever went down on.

*Sigh*… nostalgia.

Crook’s continuation of his story snapped me out of my reminiscing. “So anyways, I told Salty that I’d get it back for ‘im. So I march on over to Curly and tell him to fork it over.” He put down the magazine to focus on his story-telling. “So after some back and forth with, he tells me that his mom caught ‘im with it, and took it away. So now I’m goin’ Shit, I told Salty I’d get it back. What am I gonna do now? So get an idea.”

I chortled. “I’m sure it was stellar,” I teased.

“Fuck you, and yes it was. Now, see, I knew that just last week the principal had taken a girly-mag from that girl Primrose.”

I raised an eyebrow. After all, Primrose was a girl. “Why did she have a girly-mag?”

He waved a hoof dismissively. “She was a dyke. S’not important. What was important was that I knew where she put the shit she confiscated. So, I figured if I couldn’t get back Salty his magazine, I’d just get him another one.”

I face-hooved again. “Why was that your first instinct? You coulda just bought him another one. Or, hell, you coulda even pulled the money outta Curly to buy it. That woulda made the most sense.” Crook is such a fucking half-wit.

He just waved his hoof again. “Doesn’t matter. So anyways… I waited ‘til the old broad left her office, snuck into her desk, opened the drawer with all the confiscated shit in it… and I strike gold.” A shit-eating grin began to spread across his face. “Not only was there the issue I knew about, but six others. There was also a pack o’ gum and an action figure or some shit, I don’t remember.”

Crook cleared his throat a little and shifted in his little folding chair. “So anyways, I nab the porn and I bolt. But, see, know I’ve got a new dilemma.”

“Which one do you give to Salty?”

He brought one hoof to his nose and pointed another one at me. “So I find a quiet spot to mull over the issue.” Read: Masturbate. “And, I’m lookin’ though the magazines and I get to…” he pulled out the magazine again and flipped through the ladies for a moment. “… this page, and what do I find? Two tickets to the Wonderbolts.”

Now I remembered. I have fond memories of that Wonderbolts air-show. I’d forgotten he’d found the tickets in a magazine. I began to nod. “Yeah, yeah, yeah… I remember now. That was this magazine?”

“Yup,” he chirped with a grin. “Right between that ass, and that ass.” He gazed fondly upon the mares in question. “I may just have to swipe this.”

“Behave,” I automatically chastised. “I’m on thin ice in Ponyville as it is; I don’t need my best friend criminalizing the town.”

Crook just clicked his tongue in response.

At about that time the colt from earlier came galloping into the room with a lollipop in his mouth. “All done. Ready to go, dad?”

The stallion in question began to sweat. The poor guy clearly still had an erection. “S-sure thing, son. I’m just going to *ahem* use the bathroom first.” Read: masturbate.

“Guilty! Get out here!” came a bellowing voice from the other room.

Crook was still content to flip through the mountain of erotica before him, so I left him to his devices.

Close was sweeping up the leftovers of his last guest’s mane as I returned. “Siddown. I got a good cut in mind for today.”

I took a seat in the sole barber chair, and the smock floated itself around my neck. “I’m sure it’ll look fine, Close. You’re not half as senile as you seem.”

“Yer such a shit, you know that?” he asked rhetorically as he began to squirt the sides of my hair with his little spray bottle. Soon he was combing and snipping away, and I just closed my eyes and let it happen. I’m never disappointed by how a haircut feels.

I’ve said this before, but it still stands, getting a haircut is like being pampered. Someone is taking the time to do exactly what you want. I suppose it’s not so dissimilar from my service.

Oh, fuck me. I just imagined Close Shave as an escort.

Now there’s an image I didn’t need.

And now I’m thinking about stallions.

Mother fuck.

*sigh*

Anyways…

So, Close systematically began removing the hair from my head. I allowed myself to relax into the trancelike state I often enjoy while being trimmed. Of course, it wasn’t long before Close knocked me out of it.

“So how’s that girlfriend a’ yours, huh? Had any nice little dates lately?” he asked, barely hiding a snicker.

I swallowed audibly as my poker face failed me.

Close began to grin. “You fuckin’ did go on a date with ‘er.” I could sense what was coming, and it was far from enjoyable.

“It wasn’t a date. I just… hung out with her and a bunch of her friends,” I explained, vainly hoping that that explanation would suffice. I knew better, but it felt good to hope.

“So she’s showin’ you off ta all her lady friends, huh? Sound like you’re in deep, Guilty,” he teased, relishing my misery. “I swear, kid. Yer actually gonna fall for this girl if y’aint careful.”

I don’t know what, exactly, but something in my face betrayed me.

And Close caught it.

His grin grew tenfold. “Oh… ohohohohoho… You. Are. Shittin’ me.” He spun my chair around violently. I reeled as I came face to face with him. He was practically gaping. “You’ve got fuckin’ feelings fer this one.” He punctuated his little revelation with a jab to my chest.

I strategically rolled my eyes. “Close, you don’t know what you—”

“The fuck I don’t,” he interjected. “You fuckin’ like this mare.” He began to chuckle loudly. “I don’t fuckin’ believe it.” His chuckles grew into full blown laughter.

I groaned. “Okay… I am… not even discussing this you.”

“Fine,” Close managed between laughs. “Don’t talk, then. Just listen. I got thirty-plus years a’ marriage experience, that your clueless ass desperately needs.”

I buried my head in my hooves through my smock. “Close, I really don’t need—”

My head rather suddenly was jerked back up by a field of magic. “Keep yer fuckin’ head straight, and yes you fuckin’ do.”

I began to plead. “Close, I’m serious. Can we please not—”

“Rule number one,” he began, ignoring my pleas. “Don’t fuckin’ cheat, or I will, personally, beat you shitless.”

“Opening with a threat. Very classy.”

“Rule number two,” he continued, still cutting away at my mane. “If she mentions that she needs something off-hoof. You go fuckin’ buy it first chance you get.”

“Are you really going to mention every conceivable piece of advice you can think of?”

“Rule number three. Learn to go down on a mare. They love that shit.”

I scoffed. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I was almost offended. “Close Shave, I am a professional bed-mate. I have forgotten more about giving head than you will ever know.”

“Language,” he chastised.

“You are so full of—”

“Rule number four: Keep yourself fuckin’ groomed. Keep your hair and beard short, or she’ll think yer a dirty fuckin’ hippy.”

“What is it with you and long hair?”

“It’s for girls. That’s what.”

“How very close-minded of you.”

“Rule number five,” he proceeded. “Shut the fuck up. I’m serious about that one. Half the time not saying anything when your girl’s fuckin’ upset is the smartest fuckin’ thing to do.”

“You’re enjoying this far more than you should.”

“Rule number six.” He put down his scissors and undid my smock. Our eyes met through the mirror. “Be yer fuckin’ self, kid. Make her fall for you, not somepony you think she wants.” His expression was… earnest. He really meant that last one.

I inspected my new haircut. I looked pretty sharp, not that I expected anything less than that from him. “Thanks, Close.” I gave a somewhat defeated sigh. “I suppose I owe you for the advice, don’t I?”

“Fuck yes, you do. That’s some triple-digit-valued advice right there. Let’s see a fuckin’ stack, Guilty.”

I handed him thirty. “That’s for me and Crook.”

He glared at me.

I stood my ground. “Don’t push your luck.”

He grunted menacingly and took the bits. “You’re such a fuckin’ ingrate it’s disgusting, Guilty.”

I ignored him. “You want me to get Crook out here?” I asked.

“Yeah, get yer boyfriend. I’m gonna make ‘im look like he fuckin’ oughtta look.” He seemed bizarrely hostile towards Crook. Then again, they’d almost come to blows the day before, so I suppose it wasn’t totally unjustified.

I found Crook in the waiting room right where I’d left him. He’d dropped his issue of Playcolt for what appeared to be a lingerie catalogue of some kind. “Crook, time to take some off the top.”

He looked up at me and his eyes shot open comically. “Woah… yer alive. I thought that old guy’d killed you for sure.”

I rolled my eyes. “Ha Ha… now get out there before he starts shouting.”

He pulled himself out of the chair. “You actually don’t look half bad, Guilty,” he remarked. “Maybe the old guy’s not totally blind.”

I rolled my eyes again. “He’s not blind at all!” I protested. “Just sit down and let him trim you, aright?”

He waved a hoof reassuringly and stepped out of the waiting room.

I had several minutes to myself, so I decided to have another little think.

I thought about Derpy, of course. I thought about what it would be like to have a relationship with her, just the technical details of the whole thing. I’d almost certainly have to stop charging her for sex. Would she move in with me? Would I move in with her? How would Dinky even come into the equation? There were a lot of loose ends to tie up with this sort of thing, and I wanted to make sure I considered everything before I made a decision about the whole thing.

I didn’t have long, otherwise I would’ve thought about quite a bit more. When Crook returned he had a big smile on his face. “Whadaya think?” he asked, clearly expecting approval. He looked pretty snazzy, I will say that. His hair was short and neatly cut, but was styled up and back with a bit of mousse or gel or something. “Not bad at all.” I gave an approving nod. “You good to go?”

Crook nodded and we took our leave, passing Close on our way out. “You think about what I told ya!” He shouted at Crook.

“Yeah, yeah…” replied Crook, uninterested.

Stepping outside, I turned to Crook. “What was that about?”

He shook his head. “Nothin’ important.” He wasn’t looking me the eyes. He was hiding something. He can never look me in the eyes when he’s hiding something

I raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said rather finally. I decided to drop it.

“So what’s the plan?” he asked. “You’re free all night, right?”

“Yeah. Early one tomorrow, though, so don’t bring anypony over tonight.”

“Fine, fine. Hungry?”

I decided that I was. “I could eat.”

Truthfully the rest of the day was largely unveventful. We ate, we drank, we laughed and had fun. Crook expressed multiple times his desire to go grab Pinkie Pie so we could fuck her together. Every time, I reminded him that I had an early client.

Time flew, and soon we both found ourselves exhausted and ready for sleep. We shared the downstairs bed again, and I slept like a log. The next day morning was really no different. The two of us had years of catching up to do, we just talked for hours.

The time for my appointment grew close, and rather than hide upstairs again, Crook decided he’d get out of the house. It was one less thing for me to worry about, so I was perfectly happy with it. Once he left, I made the bed and put on music and tidied my house in peace.

So, I waited for my client, another first-timer. I’d received an anonymous message several days prior. It was written on a scroll, which was interesting. Cryptically, it didn’t have anything written on it except a date and a time, so I was rather curious to see who was showing up. Eventually, the much-anticipated knock came at my door and, act prepared, I eagerly answered it.

And for the second time in as many days I found somepony I was not expecting standing at my door. “…Zecora…” My act was shattered. I lost all semblance of professionalism as I couldn’t help but freeze up. I’d put all possibility of bedding Zecora out of my mind just days ago, so I was totally unprepared for her presence. But there she stood, golden jewelry glittering in the sun, a brown cloak draped over her back, a satchel at her side.

She smiled… uncertainly. There was a hint of worry or doubt hidden in her features. She pretended not to notice my utter lack of composure as she greeted me. “Greetings, Mister Guilty Pleasure, buyer of my escort’s treasure.”

I had to catch up. I had to get back in the act. ‘Zecora’s here, the mare who is theoretically forbidden from having sex. She’s here. She’s here, now! Say words, Guilty. Do things! Get it together and greet your fucking guest!’

I shook my head slightly. I had to snap out of my shock. I forced a smile. Ears up. Friendly voice. “Zecora. What a pleasant surprise. Come in.” Bid entrance. “May I take your cloak?” Casual physical contact as I remove her cloak. Usher to table. “Please take a seat.” After having been dropped, my act came back in force. I was on top of my game, every movement and action and word considered carefully yet quickly. I was in the zone.

“You are sure you don’t mind? You are truly too kind,” she quipped, seating herself at my table.

Reassuring tone. Calming smile. “Of course I don’t mind, Zecora. Would you like something to drink? Tea? Hot chocolate?” She simply shook her head. “Well, I’ll leave the kettle on, and if you change your mind you’re welcome to it,” I said with a grin. A real grin. The thought-lost possibility of sleeping with the drop-dead sexy Zecora was quickly becoming very real.

“I assure you, you don’t need to,” she said, her luscious verse like candy for the ears. “Please sit, if it’s not too much fuss. There’s much that I wish to discuss.”

I quickly put a kettle on the stove and obliged her request. Giddy as I was, I managed to notice the sullen look on her face. She stared heavily at the table’s grain, a scowl adorning her banded face. I opted to continue with my normal line of questioning for the time being. I would address all her worries in time. “I’m glad you came, Zecora.”

She gave a single nod, and nothing more.

I cleared my throat. “Before we get started, may I ask you a few questions?”

“I would surely be remiss, if I did not allow you this,” she responded, her head still bowed and expression still sour.

“First, is it okay if I call you Zecora?” I asked plainly.

She cocked her head to the side. “I do not see why that would not be.” The question seemed to baffle her slightly. If nothing else it replaced her sour expression with a confused one.

“Very good,” I said with a grin. “Second, there is, of course, the matter of payment. Have you prepared any bits?”

“I’ve many coins stored. I can surely afford.” She has a rhyme for everything. I love it!

With any other guest my next question would be how she had heard of me, but I already knew the answer to that. I’d told her myself, after all. So, I moved on the my final, and favorite, question. “Excellent. Well in that case, Zecora… what can I do for you?” I omitted my normal, suggestive, tone in lieu of a slightly more concerned one.

After several silent seconds, she spoke. “I am… unsure, Mister Pleasure.”

‘Well that’s… a new one.’ I’d honestly never had a client say that. When a mare comes to me she usually has at least some idea of what she wants: a lay, a date, a conversation, something. I didn’t even have a proper response to that. “Ummm… what?”

She brought a hoof into the table to rest her troubled head. “If I may be sincere… I am not sure why I’m here.” She gave a somewhat defeated sigh, and sunk her head further into her hoof.

My mind was scrambling. ‘What’s the angle, Guilty? What do we know? She’s a gorgeous zebra mare with an ass that won’t quit. Okay, that’s fun to think about but it probably isn’t relevant. She’s an apothecary. Also, probably not relevant. What do we know about her personal life? She lives in the Everfree forest. She’s a shaman—’ It hit me. I’d been so happy to have her in my home that I’d forgotten what I’d learned just two days ago. She wasn’t supposed to be in my home. She was supposed to be refraining from pleasures of the flesh.

So, I slowed down. I’d been a little too eager, as I often am, and I needed to take things at a more delicate pace. ‘Okay, Guilty, how to go about this? A direct approach? Cut to the heart of the matter?’ I swiftly decided that it was probably the best course of action to reveal what I know, at least to some extent. “Is that because you’re a shaman?”

Aside from the slight perking up of her ears she gave no indication she’d even heard me. After several seconds she spoke. “Well, you seem to know more than you look. Spending some time with Twilight’s books?”

“A bit,” I responded coolly. “You’re not meant to partake of my more… unsavory services, correct?”

“Carnal joy is, to a shaman, taboo. However, I find myself… drawn to you.” She pronounced it ‘shah-min’; I’d been saying ‘shay-min’.

“Well, in that case, Zecora, what can I do for you? We can chat, if you like. I can prepare some refreshments, as well.” I maintained an amicable atmosphere. Best not to make her feel pressured.

“A bit of company sounds nice to me. I don’t often get guests in Everfree.” A hint of a smile pulled at her lips. Progress.

I couldn’t help but smirk. “Well, shall I get some tea for my guest then?”

Zecora chuckled. “You have convinced me. Go get your tea.”

We sat and drank for a while. We chatted about the town and her customers. We talked about her homeland and her family. We spoke of the Everfree Forest, in all its terrifying wonder; I learned quite a bit more about timber wolves than I ever really wanted to.

On a side note, I only filled her glass of tea once, but it didn’t run out. It didn’t seem like she was sipping daintily or anything. I don’t know. It’s probably not important; it just seemed weird.

Eventually, the opportunity presented itself for me to ask her what, exactly, a shaman was.

She cringed. “I’m afraid my answer’s not so plain. There’s quite a bit I must explain.” She took a deep breath as she prepared her explanation:

“Not that much is known about the magic that we hone.

Zebra magic’s not so clear as the magic ponies rear.

To learn this cryptic art, in meditation we take part.

To truly master zebra magic, one must accept a fate most tragic.

A shaman, as we call these masters, must place themselves into disaster.

A pilgrimage, they undertake, to a land with much at stake.

They cleanse the chaos from the land, so that order once more stands.

Once this cleansing is complete, the shaman’s managed quite a feat.

They return to their place of birth, and are entitled ‘Guards of earth’.”

Her poem was rather moving, there was such weight and emotion in her voice it was hard not to feel… I don’t know… Impressed? Still, that didn’t stop me from analyzing it in my way. First of all, she referred to shamans (is that how you pluralize it?) in the third person. She all but admitted to being a shaman a moment ago, so there was definitely some sort of hang up there. Most likely she wasn’t feeling so shamanly(?) lately.

The second connection I made was this ‘land’ she referred to. Honestly it sounded a bit like the Everfree Forest. That place is a mess. As far as Equestria is concerned, that place is probably as chaotic as it gets.

Lastly, there was just something I noticed. She mentioned something about a ‘Guard of Earth.’ Honestly, that just sounded interesting.

So, I had a lot of new information to work with. ‘Should I ask her some more about Everfree? Should I focus on the fact that she isn’t talking about shamans in the first person? There are so many potential courses of action.’ I had to act quickly, I couldn’t just sit there and contemplate my lines forever. I opted to keep things simple. “So you’re trying to… fix the Everfree? That sounds… hard,” I said with a chuckle.

Zecora chuckled herself, and an actual smile spread on her face. Rather than respond she nodded again.

“So that’s what you’re doing out there? Trying to… bring order back to Everfree Forest? Wow, that’s… amazing.” I figured acting impressed wasn’t a bad move. Flattery seldom backfires in my line of work.

“It’s a quite tough job, to be sure. But I shall make that forest pure.” I saw a hint of a blush in her cheeks.

‘Okay, we’ve buttered her up a bit. Time to ask some tougher questions.’ “So, Zecora…” I took a sip of my tea. “… why exactly isn’t a shaman supposed to… you know… have sex?”

She winced. I expected her to. “The elders say: lewd acts, a shaman’s mind, distracts.”

I mulled that over. “That seems… I dunno… odd.”

She cocked her head, expecting elaboration.

I fed her some lines I thought she might want to hear. “Well I mean. I would think that not being able to… you know… would be more distracting than anything. It would for me, at least.” I shrugged. Hopefully I’d taken a stance that would ingratiate me a little more. Every bit helps.

Zecora scoffed angrily. “Exactly.” I was expecting a second verse, but there almost wasn’t one. She caught herself and threw together a rhyme. “That’s as I see.”

A bit forced, in my opinion.

“So, do you find yourself distracted, Zecora?” Raised eyebrow. Suggestive smile.

“There are times, I find, that it fills my mind.” No embarrassment, no blush. She wasn’t ashamed of her needs at all. It’s somewhat admirable to admit that you’re horny.

Well… at least in her circumstances.

I cleared my throat. It’s good to do before asking a delicate question. “If I may ask, Zecora, why don’t you just… do it? What’s stopping you from just finding a handsome young townpony and doing what comes natural? You’re more than attractive enough to grab any stallion you want.”

She blushed again. “N-no matter how tempting that prospect may be. Such actions are truly forbidden to me.” I think she was blushing at the compliment more than my hypothetical.

I cocked my head. “If you get laid are you going to suddenly stop trying to fix the forest?”

“Why would I stop? Such a task, I won’t drop!” She actually shouted at the prospect.

I instinctively scooted back a bit at her outburst. She promptly apologized.

“I’m serious, though,” I explained. “If it’s not going to stop you from completing your quest, why does it matter if you find yourself a little companionship?”

She frowned. “If the elders were to discover—”

“How would they?” I asserted. “They’re a nation away. Would they really send some poor zebra all this way just to find out if Zecora got a little amorous?” It was time to press her; I could feel it.

She was starting to get flustered. “Th-though, unlikely this seems—”

“Even if they did, they’d have to find the exact stallion with whom you’d done anything.” I wasn’t going to let up. These were doubts she already had, I was just giving them a voice.

“N-not impossible, this would be, c-considering…” She racked her brain to find a rhyme. It wasn’t even a particularly hard one, but she was a bit shaken.

“And if, of course, this stallion’s job were to keep the secrets of those who came to him, it would be literally impossible, wouldn’t it?” I teased suggestively. She wanted to respond. She opened her mouth but no words came. I continued to grin like a bastard. “Hypothetically, of course.”

Her mouth closed. She stared at me for a second before her lips curled into a wicked smile. “You make quite an argument, Mister Pleasure.”

I didn’t break my expression. “That didn’t rhyme,” I said, playfully.

“That did not rhyme,” she mirrored almost darkly. This was suddenly taking a pretty bizarre turn. Her gaze was low. Her breath was slow and deliberate. Her mouth was scrunched into a… I dunno, it’s hard to describe. She seemed almost disappointed at something.

I was at something of a loss. I had the feeling I’d stumbled into something that was a bit larger than anticipated. I’d been playing the role of the tempter, giving her every reason to give in to her urges. It’s a bit of a risky strategy, but a valid one in given the situation. When a mare wants it, and she knows she wants it, sometimes all it takes is to convince her that nothing will go horribly wrong if she gives in a little. I was worried I’d overplayed my role, come on too strong and made my seduction obvious. Perhaps I’d made her upset. “I’m sorry, I haven’t offended you, have I?” I asked in a concerned tone.

She sighed. “No, Guilty. I think I have been offended for some time now; you simply helped me to realize it.” ‘Oh… well… sounds like I did good. Works for me.’ Thinking on it, she had probably all but made her little revelation (whatever it was) without me. I threw a bit of doubt onto her long held beliefs, but I’m sure there was already plenty to be had.

Still, I decided to air on the side of caution. “Are you okay, Zecora?”

She let out a sizable sigh of relief. “Apparently,” she said, almost surprised.

“Are you okay?” I asked again, trying to get on the same page. She’d clearly had some sort of breakthrough while I was trying to break the ice, and I wasn’t exactly sure what it was.

She looked me in the eyes. “Guilty, I have been speaking in rhyme for over eight years now. I was expecting breaking that practice to be a bit more… climactic.” She looked somewhat disappointed.

“Would you have preferred to… I don’t know… explode?” I joked.

She laughed. “Nothing so drastic, I just… I did not expect prose to come so naturally,” she admitted.

“So… feeling good then?” Things honestly seemed to be going too well. I was torn between my teachings as an escort and my baser instincts. I learned that when things are going well, roll with them. Still, some part of me was suspicious that she was going to completely lose her shit at the drop of a hat.

You inevitably service some crazies in my line of work. I’ve had some bad experiences.

“Good? Yes, I suppose I am,” she decided. “I feel… relaxed. For the first time, in a long time, I do not have to plan everything I say. It is… nice.” She smiled widely. I reciprocated.

It was then that I noticed a wicked gleam in her eye. “Do you know what I would like to do?” she asked, almost hopping in her seat. “I would like to drink some beer. Do you have any?”

I chuckled. She sounded so innocent. “Yes, I have some beer. Let me go bring you some.” I left my seat and made for the kitchen, as Zecora gave a gleeful little click of her hooves. I took a quick inventory. I’d forgotten how much Crook had drank, but he stuck to the cans. Thankfully, I still had some brown ale in bottles.

I returned with two open bottles of ‘Trottingham’s Finest’ and placed a bottle in front of each of us. “I take it you haven’t had a drink in some time. Was that another rule for you? No alcohol?”

She nodded, but her attention was on the brew in front of her. “I have not had beer in some time. I used to partake quite often.” She tittered. “I was quite the rabble-rouser.”

“You’re not going to start a riot in my home are you?” It wasn’t a great joke but she laughed anyways.

Zecora grinned. “No, Guilty, I suppose I just feel like breaking some rules.”

I had a bit of a flashback. Crook’s said that to me quite a few times, and almost every one of those times has a story tied to it.

Zecora took a hearty swig of her beer. “Not so strong as I would like… but good flavor.”

I took a sip myself. I actually find myself loving this beer. I bought another case after Crook left.

I digress.

For several minutes Zecora took happy sips, savoring every drop. I found myself thinking about some of my adventures with Crook. We used to break the law all the damn time. Crook shoplifted a lot. He never really did it for the thrill, he always stole stuff that he wanted: booze, porn… that’s actually about it. He also had a bit of a knack for dice. He made quite a few bits back in the day.

I wasn’t much better. I was always his little accomplice. I’d be a distraction or a look-out or whatever he needed.

I actually started thinking about this brief period of time where Crook was an… well… there’s no other word for it: enforcer. After about a year of working in the stable, Crook was approached by some old schoolmates who wanted him to “put the hooves to somepony,” as it were. He actually did it a couple times before the madame found out and chewed him out. He stopped after that.

I think the two of us are probably lucky as hell to have it as good as we do. As odd as things are now between Cherry Smile and me, I do have to thank her. She was good to me… to us. If it wasn’t for her Crook would almost certainly be a career criminal. And me?

I don’t even know.

I take that back, I know exactly what I’d be.

Geez…

So, anyways…

Fuck me. Where was I?

Right. The beer.

Zecora finally finished off her drink. With a contented smile, she brought a hoof to her chest. “I have missed this warmth.” Her face began to redden as the booze flowed through her. “I enjoy this drink. It’s much smoother than that of my home.”

I nodded in agreement. “It’s good beer. Can I get you some more?”

She looked unsure.

“Perhaps… something a little stronger?” I offered.

Her devilish little grin was priceless.

I stood to move. “I’ll make you something.”

I took a quick stock of my liquor cabinet. I had a lot more to work with after Crook’s recent purchases. Looking, I wasn’t sure exactly what to make her. ‘Okay, what did she think of the beer? It was weak, but smooth. So maybe something a bit stronger but no less smooth. A stronger beer would be perfect. Hmm… even with Crook’s purchases I don’t think I have anything like that. Maybe something sweet? No, she seems to like the taste of liquor, no point it covering it up. This is tough. A cocktail with beer is propably my best bet. What do a have? Tomato juice. Nah, a red-eye’s pretty out there. I’ve got plenty of hard liquor. I could do a boilermaker or a dog’s nose. Hmm… not feeling it. I’ve got… wait, is that fucking champagne?’

I almost did a double take. I still do not know where that came from. I must’ve had it for a while since it was pretty dusty. I guessed it got moved in the cabinet’s recent re-organization. Now, I should probably note that I feel champagne is a celebratory drink, something for special occasions. That said, it was just what I was looking for. A black velvet would be sweet, yet savory, and a bit stronger than the beer.

I poured a bottle of beer into two glasses, and topped them off with champagne. Bubbly, flavorful, exotic… splendid.

I returned to Zecora, who’d been taking the time to admire my home. “I think you’ll enjoy this. It has a unique flavor.” I placed the glass in front of her. She carefully examined the golden brown liquid, before ultimately giving it a testing sip. Her face positively lit up when it hit her tongue.

“It is sweeter than I expected.” She licked her lips and took a large swig. “What is this brew? Do I detect grapes?”

“It’s the beer from before with some champagne,” I explained, taking a sip myself. “Do you like it?”

She nodded. “I have heard of champagne, though never tasted it before. There are no grapes in my homeland.” She took another sip, as the liquor started to make its way to her face.

We drank for a while. We ended up finishing the champagne, which Zecora took quite the liking to. She told me some stories about her homeland. Her stories sort of reminded me of my own. She seemed to have raised some hell in her hometown. It also sounded like she’d left behind a whole lot of friends when she came here, which I can also relate to.

She ended up talking to me about Applejack, oddly enough. Apparently she took issue with Zecora when she first came to town as well. Also she was apparently shrunken down to a diminutive size thanks to some magical plant. This amused me.

So after a few back-and-forths and we ran out of stories, Zecora was seemingly elated. The way she was smiling told me she hadn’t had this much fun in years. She was laughing to the point of tears. “Whoo… I think… I am glad that I came here, Guilty.”

“I should hope so.” For a moment my gaze met hers, and I could see it. That special mix of hunger and a tiny bit of shame that tells me a mare is ready. ‘Time to move.’ “So, Zecora… you said you missed the warmth of liquor, yes?”

She nodded, cocking her head to the side. She seemed unsure as to where I was going with this.

Little did she know, I’d had a brilliantly corny line prepared for the past half-hour.

“Are there any other… warmths… you’ve missed? Is there any way at all I can… warm you up?” Shit-eating grin. Exaggerated raising of eyebrows. Sometimes a bit of humor is just the tail-raiser you need.

Zecora tried, and failed, to contain her laughter. She unwillingly fell back in shrieking mirth. It was more of a reaction than I’d expected, but by no means a bad sign. She managed to squeeze out a few words in the midst of her hilarity. “I…I have been waiting for quite some time. And when… and when you finally ask… you ask…” the rest of her thought was lost as the giggles returned.

When her mirth subsided, she let out a long relaxed sigh. “I think the time has come for you to rut me. I’m worried if we keep talking you may send me into another fit.” She seemed determined.

‘How very forward. Not going complain. Makes my job easier.’ I stood, adjusting my newly style mane for a bit of flair. I grinned knowingly at her. “Come,” I instructed. I love when I get to say that. It’s a single word, but it holds so much promise.

She obliged, almost rushing to her hooves, as I trotted off with no small amount of swagger in my hips. I led the eager zebra onward, swishing my tail and flaunting my goods. By this point she wanted me. Everything was coming together. All that remained was the best part.

I won’t lie; I was just as eager as Zecora. The idea of digging into that gorgeous zebra was just so appealing. The moment I led her through the bedroom door she swiftly began to shed her jewelry. “Someone’s very eager,” I teased.

She laughed in response. “It has been eight years, Guilty.”

‘A fair point.’ “Well, before we begin, some rules,” I half-insisted. It’s important to never skip the rules. “Rule one: no kissing on the lips.”

Zecora’s mouth twisted into a worried little frown. “A shame,” she lamented. Her features softened slightly. “But… acceptable.”

“Excellent. Rule two: If either one of us says ‘stop,’ we both stop. No exceptions.”

“Of course.” She nodded.

“Very good,” I smiled just as she got the last of her jewelry off. “Then, let us begin.” I moved swiftly. In my experience zebras appreciate it when you make the first move. I hate to stereotype but it’s served me well. Before she could even make it to the bed I attacked her neck with a series of kisses.

“AH!” she cried as pleasure rocketed through her. Each kiss elicited gasps and shudders and exclamations of “Oh, Guilty!” I gently guided her towards the bed as my assault continued. The two of us clamored up onto the cloud, Zecora practically tripping over herself. I embraced her as we did, but as soon we as hit the bed Zecora spoke up. “Guilty… I… I think I’m going to fi—” she trailed off as her body literally shook with orgasm. Her muscles trembled as her whole system reacquainted itself with climax. Her face was a mix of surprise and delight as she shivered and squirmed and writhed in what I assumed to be her first climax in nearly a decade. I couldn’t help but smile. I love when a mare comes so soon. It usually means she’s going to come a lot.

She spoke as drool began to trail down her lips. “I am… *huff*… sorry, Guilty. I have finished *huff* already.”

I giggled. Her blushing, drooling, post-O-face was cute. It made me wish I’d actually seen it while she was coming. “Zecora, trust me. You’re going to ‘finish’ a lot more, before we finish. After all, I’m a professional.”

“Truly?” she asked, apparently non-believing.

With a delicate guiding hoof I rolled her onto her back. “Truly,” I said, parting her hind legs and catching an eyeful of her gorgeous marehood.

If I may be candid, Zebra pussy is a beautiful thing.

And Zecora’s was no exception. Cute, little black lips, dripping with desire, parting ever-so slightly, giving a peek of her tight pink entrance. All smack in the middle of her supple, round, banded ass.

I’d hang that pussy on my wall.

Wow, that actually sounded like something a deranged serial killer would say.

Uh…

I’d hang a photo of that pussy on my wall.

Yes that’s much less terrifying.

Zecora cocked an eyebrow as I licked my lips. “Are you—?” Her question was cut off as I dove in. I gave a long, firm lick along the length of her sex, giving a purposeful flick across her stiff little clit. She was in heaven, and so was I. Her eyes rolled back and her back arched as another orgasm claimed her. She was insanely sensitive; I suppose eight years will do that to a mare.

Rather than give her a chance to catch her breath, I decided to make good on my promise to help her ‘finish’ a lot more. I licked, and slurped, and kissed, sucked, and lapped over and over, her wanting flavor attacking my senses, as my tongue attacked hers. I felt her legs cross behind my neck as a pair of hooves gripped my head, pulling my hungry muzzle into her equally hungry entrance.

Her words came ragged and forced. “Do not… *huff*… stop!” she commanded, desperate for more.

This was… perfect. My client was a gorgeous, interesting, friendly, and incredibly sensitive zebra mare. I was on the most comfortable bed I’ve ever known, with my tongue inside her. She was wet and wanting and delicious. This was a great session. This was one of those sessions that reminded me why I do what I do. I was making somepony feel good just for the sake of making her feel good, and that’s what I’m all about.

And I was enjoying myself just as much as she was. I was practically bursting out of my jeans, just reveling in the flavor of a wanting mare. I began to trace my hooves long the insides of her legs as I proceeded to eat her out to my heart’s content. It drove her wild. Her hips spasmed and gyrated; her muscles twitched beneath her striped skin.

“My g-goodness, Guilty. Wh…where did you *nnf* learn this.” I looked up at her face. She was chewing her lip furiously as wave after wave of carnal joy engulfed her. A thing of beauty. Mares are most beautiful when in the grips of passion, I feel.

I allowed her a brief break from my tongue as I took a moment to speak. “Have you never had a stallion go down on you before?” I asked. Rather than keep her dripping pussy wanting, I slid a hoove up to clop her gently.

She shook her head. “I h-have not.” She threw her head back as every muscle in her feverish body twitched. “I have n-never known pleasure like this.” She let out a long and contented sigh.

I smiled as I toyed with her still-warm sex. “Well, have you ever been with a stallion as… experienced as myself?” I asked.

She shook her head again. “No… For some, I was their first mare.”

“So, you were just a filly, playing with colts?”

She nodded.

“Well, today, you are a mare, and I would like to show you how a stallion does things.”

She grinned devilishly. “I can not waaaaiiiit!” I kissed my way down the inside of one leg, placing a peck on each stripe as I made my way back to her needy lips. “M-More?” she sputtered.

“If you like,” I answered, my mouth hovering just above her sex.

“I…” I tried to read her, but her face betrayed little emotion beyond her understandable ecstasy. “… I would like to join you,” she said, finally.

“Alright,” I slid myself to the edge of the bed. “I’ll grab a potion real quick, and then you can… reciprocate.”

She nodded tiredly before collapsing backwards into the sheets.

I was loving this. I practically skipped to my little chest. Hell, I barely noticed how bad the blue little phial tasted. I was In bed with Zecora. Zecora! I’d had a boner for this mare since the moment I’d seen her, and two years of waiting had paid off. There wasn’t a thing in the world that could ruin this moment.

‘Would Derpy be okay with this?’

I stopped in my tracks. ‘Where did that come from?’

Still, I could stop myself from considering it. I mean of course Derpy wouldn’t mind. She knows what I do. She even stood up to Applejack in defense of my profession. Why would I think that she would have a problem with me being with Zecora.

I waited for half a moment, partially expecting some inner voice to make a counterpoint, or something.

It never came.

“Is something the matter?” came Zecora’s voice from her lying position.

I inverted a frown I didn’t realize I was wearing. “Nothing at all.” I wriggled out of my jeans and returned to the bed, my erection bobbing slightly beneath me. I positioned myself beside Zecora. She barely took notice of me. She was too busy letting her long-unstimulated nerve-endings reawaken to the sensations of sex. “How are we feeling?” I asked.

Her eyes opened, and she briefly racked her mind for the appropriate word. “Euphoric.”

She started as I nuzzled her cheek gently. “Care to go on?”

“Yes.” She glanced around nervously. “May I… reciprocate?”

I wordlessly swung myself around, that she might get acquainted with my cock. (Incidentally, it put me face-to-pussy, for continued tasting.)

Lightning shot up my spine as I felt a gentle hoof brush lightly along my shaft. “Not so large as I remember.”

My heart broke, just a little, but I chuckled in spite of it. “I’m certainly not the largest of stallions,” I admitted. “But don’t worry; I can get the job done.”

I felt a warm muzzle caress my member softly. “I am sure.”

I continued my work between her hocks as she warmed herself up to my lower half. She started slow, with gentle pecks and probing licks. Soon she was wrapping her puffy lips around me, eliciting low moans from myself.

Bliss. A sideways sixty-nine with a zebra on a cloud with silk sheets, the smell of sweat and sex filling the room. My idea of a perfect afternoon. Zecora wasn’t too great at fellatio, but still… a blowjob’s a blowjob.

I continued to exercise my vast arsenal of oral techniques, and the two of us remained in position for quite some time. I’m fairly certain I managed to bring her to peak half a dozen times before the tenacious zebra’s novice tongue brought me over the edge.

My muscles clenched as I emptied myself into her mouth. Normally I like to give a mare a bit of a warning, but… the mood wasn’t right.

It’s hard to put into words. Sometimes I just know when not to speak up.

Once I unloaded myself, so to speak, the two of us flopped away from each other, exhausted from orgasm.

“Mmm,” Zecora hummed with a slight sense of urgency. I propped myself to find her pointing a hoof at her mouth. ‘Ah, she doesn’t swallow. Well… a chest for everything.’ I nodded and hastily scooted off the bed. I opened one of my many toy boxes and fetched a box of tissues.

Once I hoofed it to her she speedily pulled out several sheets and emptied her mouth into a crumpled ball. “Thank you.” It took the cum-ball and tossed into the trash pail in the corner.

Swish.

She then sprawled out on the bed, smiling like a fool. The smile was just priceless, too. True, genuine elation was just emanating off of her, and it was sort of contagious. It often is.

“So,” I asked, “have you ever done that for a stallion before?” I was just curious.

Her smile vanished.

‘Shit.’

She huffed. “Once.”

‘Do I press the issue, or glance over it?’ I debated internally. ‘If she sulks again, I’ll say something,’ I decided almost instantly.

As such, I changed the subject.

Or, rather… I didn’t change it.

“Not bad for your second time.”

“You enjoyed it, then?” she asked, hopefully.

I didn’t have to lie. “Of course.”

Her smile was back. “I am glad.” She seem relieved, for some reason. There was a story somewhere in there, I was sure of it.

“Well, I’m glad you’re glad,” I said to her with a charming smile. She was really quite stunning, just lying there. Her rustled mohawk. That sweaty coat. That fasciniating runic Cutie mark. Those hips. Celestia those hips. I couldn’t help but comment. “You know, you are a remarkably beautiful mare.”

She giggled. “I am already seduced, Guilty. Why do you flatter me so?”

“Simple. I say it because it’s true.” I traced my eyes over her reposed frame. “Your body excites me. Entices me. It makes me want to do all sorts of naughty things to it.” I grabbed a forehoof and kissed it gently, staring right into her eyes. A classic move. “Zecora, may I fuck you?”

She didn’t miss a beat. Normally mares are a bit surprised when I use an overly blunt line like that, but Zecora was unfazed. “I was beginning to think you would never ask.”

We both grinned as Zecora spread her legs. A well-executed spread eagle.

‘Face to face? It’s been a while. Fun.’ Face to face sex isn’t the easiest thing in the world, but it can certainly be worth it. Especially for making out during sex. Even if you don’t do that, you can nuzzle.

I placed my forelegs on either side of her head as I brought my hips into position. She was glowing. She was so happy to want and be wanted. Happy to give and receive pleasure. Happy to have allowed herself this warmth. She had needed this.

I proceeded gently. Softly rubbing myself up and down her entrance. Kissing at her neck. She shuddered with anticipation. I didn’t keep her waiting long.

I entered her slowly. She was so warm, so wet, so inviting. Her eyes lost focus and her mouth hung open. She said nothing as I began to gently gyrate my lower half. She was certainly feeling it, though; she was biting her lip again.

It felt… it felt so good.

All the gasping and moaning and sweating and fucking. It was just what I needed too.

I love my job.

Soft fucking became steady fucking, and Zecora became very vocal.

“Oh!” she cried. “It f-feels…. Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Don’t staaaAAAAAAHP!” Her legs wrapped around me. In fact, everything about her clenched violently as orgasm claimed her… including her jaw… which somehow found its way to my shoulder.

I hate my job.

I managed not to scream, but I did stop moving entirely. It was right as I was finishing up as well, so I came right as she bit me.

You take the good with the bad.

After what felt like hours Zecora’s body relaxed.

“Ow,” I said perfectly calmly, in a voice that was in no way, a pathetic little squeak.

Zecora gave me a tired, perplexed look, before realizing what she had done. “Oh my goodness!”

“Don’t worry it’s not that ba— oof!” In a panic she threw me off and out of her and scrambled for the living room, my jism dripping out of her.

“Wait wait wait wait, I have a salve!” she yelled as she disappeared beyond the door. A moment later she returned with her satchel. She hefted the heavy thing up onto the bed and began rummaging around inside. She was on automatic.

“Zecora, relax, I’m perfectly fine.” She continued unabated, producing a small wooden container. “Really, I barely even—”

She shushed me as she rubbed some sort of cream onto her hooves.

“I’m serious, you don’t have t— oooooooooohh,” I crooned as a hoof hit my throbbing shoulder, and all my pain vanished.

“Better?” she asked.

“Oooh, yeah.” I could barely believe how good it felt. Each stroke of her hoof washed away a layer of pain, until it was nothing but a memory. “What is this stuff?”

“My own blend. I make it from a moss that grows in the Everfree,” she explained. “I, uh… I feel I have killed the mood, no?”

“Hmm? Maybe a little.” I couldn’t help but chuckle. The moment she saw me hurt she was all business. It was rather sweet, all things considered.

“I am sorry.” She sounded very remorseful. “It is a rather unfortunate habit.”

“Biting when you come? Well, at least you didn’t do it when I was in your mouth.” She blanched. ‘Oh… that’s what happened.’ Again, I didn’t say anything. She was already mortified. “We can continue, if you like. I honestly feel great after that salve.”

Her head dipped tiredly, and she responded in an enervated tone. “I have been more than satisfied, Guilty. I would fear for my ability to walk home, should we continue.”

“Well, it was certainly enjoyable, wasn’t it?”

“Yes… exceedingly so.” She huffed furiously as her panic died. “I think I would like to lie down.”

‘Sounds awesome.’

So the two of us ended up spooning on the bed. I’m always happy to have my junk next to zebra ass, so I was pleased. We chatted again. Zecora actually ended up telling me about the time she accidentally bit a stallion’s cock. It sounded awful. Apparently he screamed, and a group of zebras came running. Half a dozen of members of her village saw her chomping on his member.

Thankfully she hadn’t bitten as hard as she could have, so he was fine.

Still, pretty traumatic. She confessed that blowing me had helped her conquer her fear that she’d do it every time. Actual sex, apparently, proved too much for her. All told, she was very candid about… well everything. She might get embarrassed about things, but she never shies away from them. It was nice, having on truly honest conversation.

I actually… ended up telling her about me thinking I have feelings for Derpy.

I didn’t use her name of course, I just called her ‘a client,’ but… it was nice talking about it. I only mentioned it briefly, and Zecora just gave me a ‘good luck,’ but even so, it felt good. It was nice knowing that it was… well…

Allowed.

The session was clearly winding down, and Zecora eventually decided it was time to take her leave. After all, she had to brave the Everfree to get home, and better to do so during the day.

“I think it’s time I left, Mr. Pleasure. Truly my gratitude knows no measure,” she said as she pried herself from the engrossing comfort of the bed.

“Back to couplets, are we?” I teased.

“Truth be told, a vacation was nice. But now I must leave this prose-paradise.” She smiled at the cleverness of her own rhyme.

“Well that’s just fine, Zecora. But remember, this little oasis of Pleasure will be waiting for you.” I smiled at my own clever wordplay.

“I owe you more than you know. And shall repay you so. Please take the coin you’ve earned. But to give you more, I yearn. A greater gift I must give to you. Something to convey my thanks to you.”

“You rhymed ‘you’ with ‘you,’” I pointed out, to which Zecora clicked her tongue. “And thank you, but you don’t have to give me anything beyond the cost of the session.” Ever professional.

“See the gift, and then judge. On this I will not budge,” she replied.

“If you insist.”

She nodded.

“Very well,” I relented. Well… relented makes it sound like I actually put up a fight… I really didn’t.

It’s probably just gonna be some potion or salve or something, I haven’t gotten it yet.

“Goodbye, kind escort, and good afternoon. I hope to be see you again sometime soon.”

“I sure hope so.”

She left. I waved goodbye. And she was gone.

Okay I have a tongue cramp. I’m gonna eat something cold and come back to this. I think I have some ice cream.

Author's Notes:

WOO! FIFTEEN CHAPTERS!

Thank y'all for reading. I heart my fans. Don't forget to like and comment and favorite and all that jazz.

Thanks as always to aquapunkchick, BlackSkulls, Jake the Army Guy, and coandco. They make my story shine the way it does.

Oh, and don't forget! Be sure to check out my blog for some sick fan art!