My favorite thing about living in Ponyville is the third Sunday of every month.

That’s the day of the month when I head to Cheerilee’s house in the evening and we host our regular book club meetings. Well... book ‘club’ is a bit strong. Really, it’s just the two of us. We sit around, talk, share girly thoughts, and usually share a bottle or two of wine over the evening.

It’s nice. Relaxing. It almost feels like I fit right in, which is a bit difficult considering how different I am. It’s not a personality thing. I can make friends. I do an okay job at talking to folks. But when everyone else is a fancy-colored talking horse, and I’m a human... well. I don’t blame them, in any case.

Having someone to talk to makes me feel a little more at home. After spending days puzzling over my appearance in Equestria, along with the best unicorn scientists Princess Celestia could conjure up, none of us were any closer to understanding why I turned up here in the first place, or what to do to send me back.

With that in mind, I’ve tried to make the best of things.

Cheerilee and I clicked almost immediately. She’s just fun to be around. She reminds me of my friends from back home – or one in particular; Mandy, who I used to spend every other Saturday night with. We’d watch a movie and get ice cream and do the usual ‘girly get-together on the weekend’ thing.

Well... mostly usual.

I know normally weekends for girls my age are reserved for going out the bar, meeting boys and bringing them back home to... you know. That kind of thing. I don’t know what it is, but the idea of a ‘date-a-week’ never really appealed to me. I think most guys are kind of... not ‘icky’. What’s the right word? They’re just... boring. Like, yes, you have a very nice haircut and a fast car, I’m very happy for you, but that doesn’t mean I wanna bring you back to my apartment and let you put your thing in places and act like I’m enjoying it.

I think guys could pick up on that. Even though I’m nothing hard on the eyes, it seemed like any guy coming up to drop a line or give me his number was either doing it on a dare from his friends or second-guessing himself the whole time. I mean, I don’t think I’m that bad to look at. I keep my hair long, just below my waist, and I haven’t dyed it away from my natural blonde once, which you assume guys would appreciate. Plus, even without wearing something completely skanky, I’ve got enough to look at upstairs. You figure a set of double-d’s would be the same under a sweater or in a low-cut top, right?

It might be that I could stand to lose a few pounds. I’m not exactly a super model... staying in on the weekends with a tub of Ben and Jerry’s probably helped me pack on a few. Still, I think a girl without any curves is a bit worrying. I mean... yeah, a diet wouldn’t be a terrible idea, but I’m comfortable with my pudgy-pudge. It keeps me from freaking out over a skeleton in my mirror when I wake up, in any case.

Maybe, aside from all of that, it was just the fact that guys could tell I wasn’t interested.

I tried to play nice once or twice, pretending to myself that I wanted so badly to meet some guy and bring him back to my apartment for a roll in the hay – especially during the time of the month when I got particularly riled up – I have a naturally high sex drive to begin with, but you know what I’m talking about.

But the thing is that most guys, even after all that trouble, weren’t worth the effort. They were boring, usually kind of greasy, and just not... fun. Plus, a lot of them... well. I feel like if I’m gonna spend my evening with the whole of my attention focused on not just someone, but something, that ‘thing’ should at least be worth my time. None of the guys I found seemed to be, though I have reason to believe from the porn I’ve watched that I just might have some unusually high standards. When the term ‘giant cocks’ pops up in your search history just after the typing letter ‘g’, it’s pretty easy to believe you might have a certain preference. I dunno if that makes me a size-queen, or just someone with unrealistic expectations, but it means guys in general didn’t seem to be worth the effort to me. I’d rather spend the evening chilling out or spending time with a friend anyway. Someone like Mandy.

Mandy was my best friend, but she was also really... cute. She had a short, bouncy hair-cut, and freckles to match her hair. She was small, but not too small, round where it counted, and wore shorts all the time, even when it was cold.

In my defense, I’ve always had a thing for redheads.

The first time it happened, I don’t think either of us expected it. We were watching some stupid romantic comedy and curled up in my bed, both of us in our pajamas. I remember noticing how warm she was pressed up against me, and how soft her PJs were.

I don’t remember who did what first, but pretty soon the movie was rolling credits and she had her head between my legs after yanking my pajama bottoms off.

I always looked forward to ‘girl’s night’ after that.

Things with Cheerilee are different, of course. She reminds me of Mandy, in a way, but she’s a different mixture of laid-back and ‘detail-oriented’. She teaches at the local school, which I find fascinating ‘cause I’ve always sort of wanted to be a teacher. She’s also well read, which means that even though I haven’t heard of any of the books we end up discussing, as long as I have a week to catch-up, we can talk for hours about the tiniest details in whatever she’s picked for the week. It’s great. I wasn’t a complete book-nerd before I showed up in Equestria, but now I hardly do anything else in my spare time.

Cheerilee’s a sweetheart. She’s got the cutest laugh, and this look on her face that she saves for special occasions that’s a kind of a mix between a question and a tease. Like, she’ll smirk and raise one eyebrow just a little bit, like she’s saying “Really?”, but daring you to go on regardless. She uses it when I start in on a particularly raunchy joke, or when I tease her about still being single. A lot of the time it’s almost like I’m still back home.

But there’s one particular instance that’s made me feel just right-as-rain when it comes to belonging in Equestria. Something that made me feel like I really was back home spending my weekend curled up with my best friend until we both got distracted by something more interesting than our movie.

It happened last week.

I was at Cheerilee’s, and it was Sunday. I’ve always made the time to visit her on other days of the week, her being my best pony-friend and all, but Sundays are special.

We were around her living room table, each of us with a glass of wine and a copy of the book Cheerilee had picked for the week (my experience in Equestrian literature being more than a little lacking). Cheerilee’s house is quaint, but pretty spacious on the inside. She’s got nice pictures hanging up on the walls, some of them drawn by her students, and a host of enough rooms to keep company over: a kitchen stocked with all kinds of cooking gadgets and fancy utensils, a living room with a fireplace and perfectly positioned windows... and other rooms, I guess, ostensibly. I’ve never seen the bedroom myself.

As usual, the conversation drifted off-topic; which, really, wasn’t a problem. The ‘book club’ meetings are really just an excuse for us to hang out and drink until everything we say is funny, and then both pass out and nurse each other’s hangovers away in the morning. That’s the way things usually go, anyway.

“Sooooo, Cheerilee,” I started, already angling to my most favoritest topic of conversation. “Meet any likely looking stallions lately?”

“Oh, Samantha, stop. You know I’m not interested in what’s on the market in Ponyville right now.” Cheerilee was already sounding a little giggly, which meant she was on her third or fourth glass of wine. I was on my second.

Oh, and my name is Samantha. Just in case that needed clarifying.

“What’s wrong with the Ponyville market? Are you waiting for some prince to ride into town and sweep you off your fee–hooves?” I still had trouble remembering half my favorite sayings needed translation before they made ‘pony-sense’.

Cheerilee shook her head with her wine-glass between her two front hooves. A little bit spilled out and onto her table, which was fine, because she’d long ago taken the precaution of laminating it for just that reason.

“It’s not that there aren’t some very nice stallions in town... very nice, I mean...” Cheerilee leaned forward to emphasize her point, and I held back a giggle when I noticed how glazed over her eyes looked.

“It’s just that none of them is what I’m interested in. Maybe for a... a roll in the hay, perhaps”–I giggled at that, and Cheerilee gave me a jokingly agitated glare–”but nopony who’d be right for settling down with.”

“Why does it have to be someone to settle down with?” I asked, pouring myself a third glass of the vintage red that Cheerilee had selected for the evening’s enjoyment. I noticed my aim was a little off as I poured, but I managed to keep the majority of the wine inside the glass. The rest sprinkled onto the table next to Cheerilee’s. I was more interested in getting the rest of what was in my glass in my mouth instead of where the rest of it happened to end up, so I barely noticed.

Cheerilee looked at me curiously as I swallowed a large mouthful of wine, and she smirked as I felt my cheeks redden a little. They always do when I get a bit tipsy.

“You know, I just mean... I mean, I mean, you don’t have to start looking for someone to move in with and marry and start making babies with...” I get a little bit repetitious when I’m drunk, which means Cheerilee was used to hearing me say the same thing one of several ways over and over again.

“Of course not,” Cheerilee said, considering a swish of her glass before she swallowed a sip. “But I’m not exactly a young filly. If I’m going to spend my time courting a dashing suitor, I should at least make sure he’s going to be onboard for a while... or until I’m an old mare turning grey.”

I scoffed and gave Cheerilee a nudge with my hand, pushing her shoulder back. Miraculously, she kept her glass under control, keeping more drops of red from joining the small puddle already on the table.

“You’re not gonna be old and grey any time soon. I see the way the guys in town check you out when you walk by... you do that little tail-swish thing without even thinking about it, you know. It gets their attention every time.”

Cheerilee blushed and looked over her shoulder.

She has the most adorable tail. It’s a cute little bob of light-pink that matches her coat perfectly, and it has a kind of bunchiness at the end that makes it perfect for swishing back and forth, or just for staring at. It looks kind of like a swirly ice-cream cone. Sometimes I feel like I just wanna lick it.

Cheerilee gave an experimental wag of her tail, and I imagined in my head what a colt or stallion standing behind her might get an eyeful of with such an unintentionally sultry swish. She usually wiggled her hips a little too when she did it. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was asking for the attention.

I touched a finger against my cheek and pulled it away warm.

Maybe I’d had more to drink than I thought.

“See what I mean?” I said, leaning back in my chair and finishing off my glass. Cheerilee was blushing harder than I was, and she tucked her tail under her legs like she was embarrassed by her accidental sexiness.

“I don’t see how having a well-kept tail and walking the way my mother taught me is any evidence for being the focus of a few stallions’ attention...”

“What did your mom do for a living anyway?” I asked.

Cheerilee scrunched her mouth for a minute, struggling to pull up the information through the wine clouding her thoughts.

“Hmm... you know, I can’t seem to recall exactly what her job was. She just... well, she was always very well-dressed, and well-mannered besides. She seemed like a proper lady, and money was never an issue, even when my father was laid off from the cloud-factory for several months...”

“Your mom sounds like she was a whore,” I said matter-of-factly, and set my glass on the table.

Cheerilee’s mouth dropped open, and I couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

It took me a while to stop. By the end, I had to wipe a tear away from my eye, with Cheerilee glaring at me the whole time.

“I’m sorry,” I said, still coming down from my giggle-fit. “I’m sure your mom was a wonderful pony with a perfectly respectable job.”

Cheerilee bit her lip, as though she’d suddenly recalled an incriminating memory she didn’t want to let go.

“Well...” she started, looking away from me towards the wine-splattered table.

“What?” I asked.

Cheerilee kept staring away. She was blushing pretty hard.

“What is it?” I repeated, giving her shoulder a nudge with my hand. Her fur felt warm and soft, and I felt like I wanted to keep my hand there for a little longer than was necessary.

“Well, I don’t recall anything exact... but I do seem to remember my mother had a number of stallions who were particularly fond of her. Several of them even stopped by the house on occasion, bringing her gifts, or just to say hello. And my father never seemed to be upset by it...”

“Do you think your mom really was a prostitute?”

Cheerilee glared at me, but quickly turned her face back to her normal unoffended smile.

“I’m not sure. I certainly don’t remember her ever telling us what she did for a living, in any case.”

“Well, maybe that’s where you got it from. Maybe the reason you don’t want to waste your time on ponies you know you won’t settle down with is because you know, in the back of your head, that if you do, you’re gonna be sucking a non-stop parade of dicks until you’re the biggest town bicycle Ponyville’s ever seen.”

Cheerilee gave me the look. It killed me every time. I couldn’t help but bust up, laughing harder than I think I had in ages.

She still had the look on her face when I finally calmed down, which made stopping the rest of the giggles welling in the back of my throat even harder.

“I do admit that I miss the idea of finding a ‘special somepony’ to spend my evenings with... not that I don’t find your company wonderfully enjoyable.” Cheerilee stretched out a hoof and put it on my hand reassuringly. Just like her to switch from ridiculous discussion about her mom’s theoretical prostitution right back to a semi-serious conversation about the semantics of dating.

I could see where she was coming from though. As much as I loathed dating back on Earth, the complete lack of human interaction was starting to get to me. And, as content as I was to spend my days by myself reading and finding other entertaining things in a world filled with magical talking ponies, at the end of the night, a pillow and blanket set made for a pretty shoddy companion to fall asleep next to.

Plus... well. Not having the internet was the cruelest joke of the whole thing. Memories of Mandy’s soft, slender legs and recollections of the videos I’d saved in my favorites bar didn’t quite cut it, and my hand was far less up to the task than the array of toys I’d collected for myself in lieu of a proper relationship.

“I know what you mean,” I said simply. “I don’t miss dating, or guys in general, but I do miss them... in specific, if you know what I mean.”

Cheerilee blinked at me, blank-faced. I wasn’t sure if the alcohol had taken its toll on her sensibilities or if she was just oblivious when it came to blunt discussion about the opposite sex. I didn’t think the latter was the case – Cheerilee was too pretty not to have been around the proverbial block once or twice.

I sighed.

“You know. Like... having time to myself is great, and just like you said, girl’s night is a blast. But sometimes, I... y’know. Wish I had a nice, comfy somebody to curl up next to. And to... do other things with.”

Cheerilee’s eyes flashed with understanding, and she nodded.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been... with somepony. So, I think I know where you’re coming from.”

We shared a smile, basking in the shared misery of our mutual singlehood. Cheerilee’s hoof was still on my hand, and it felt warm and comforting.

“I will say though,” I started, taking up the last of my wine with my free hand and downing it before going on, “that I don’t have particularly fond memories of the time I did spend dating. Maybe this is all just a life-lesson to convince me I should be an asexual spinster.”

“What was it about dating that was so unpleasant?” Cheerilee asked, leaving her own wine glass empty. There was still more than a quarter of a bottle to go, and I could tell both of us were set on finishing it before the night was over. Still, there was no rush.

“Just the guys. They were always so... disappointing.”

“How do you mean?” Cheerilee leaned forward a little, her head hovering over the table covered in red wine.

“You know. Like, some of them tried a bit, and I could tell they wanted to do well, but I just always felt like something was missing.”

Cheerilee blinked again.

“You mean... specifically in regards to being intimate–”

“Yes. In regards to the sex. It was... lacking.”

Cheerilee blushed again ever so lightly.

“Do you mean–”

“Yes. Mostly that.”

A moment of semi-awkward silence passed as Cheerilee considered where to take the logistics of the conversation next.

“Is that a problem with human males?” she asked. She sounded genuinely uncertain.

“I’m not sure,” I replied. I set my glass down on the table and lifted the bottle, pouring as much of it as I could aim steadily into the waiting crystal. I did the same for Cheerilee, and she gave me a nod as I finished off the bottle. She raised her glass to her mouth and took a long drink, letting out a little ‘ah’ before setting it back down on the table.

“I mean, I don’t really have a ton of experience. I got the impression from asking around that they weren’t that bad. But I dunno. I just always expected something... more.”

“How much more are we talking?” Cheerilee asked before swallowing another gulp full of wine. That must have been her fifth glass; it was the only explanation for her daring to step past her normal comfort zone of avoiding the specifics of my sex-laden conversational stylings. I was the sex-obsessed one, not her, so I could always tell when she’d hit her peak for the night when she could match me sentence for sentence in talking about my sexual history or hers.

I shifted my eyes to the side as I considered the question for a second, then held up my hand. I stretched my thumb as far away from my index finger as I could manage, then used my other hand to span the length and held it up to Cheerilee to demonstrate.

She looked speechless.

“That... is that all?” she asked. She almost stumbled over her words with her surprise. It wasn’t a reaction I was expecting.

Then again... I suppose I’d never thought about that. Horses were well known on Earth for being... big; so why didn’t it make sense that talking ponies would be along the same lines?

I’d never done the research before. Despite my usual ‘monster dick’ search tag, I’d never taken the idea into my head to stumble into the intimidating field of horse porn. The idea of getting held down by a giant, unintelligent beast, and spreading yourself open on its animal cock seemed... kind of gross. I’d certainly never considered it, despite my hankering for something a little more substantial. I’d never thought about talking pony dick either.

But now the idea was in my head. It didn’t seem as disgusting as the real thing.

“Mostly,” I replied, taking a small sip of my drink. “How big are... I mean, how does that compare to pony... thing?”

Cheerilee looked at me, deadpan. Without her expression changing an inch, she held up her right foreleg and stretched it out. Then, she placed her left hoof on the tip of her right, and dragged it down her foreleg slowly until she reached the first joint; about the equivalent from the tip of my fingers up until my elbow.

I coughed a little on my mouthful of wine.

“Are you serious?” I asked, incredulous.

Cheerilee nodded.

Damn.

I’d never thought about it before. As weird as it was being around talking, sometimes magical, sometimes flying ponies every second of the day, I’d never even considered the mechanics of their sex organs, or sex in general. I’d reminisced, from time to time, about how close Cheerilee felt to my old friend, and what it might be like to tackle her to the ground after a couple drinks and plant a big kiss right on her fuschia coloured lips – but I’d never gone through with it, and that was as far as my imagination went. I’d certainly never contemplated the physical logistics of what it might be like to get fucked by a pony – certainly not how big they were, though I had a best guess based on the pictures that everyone managed to stumble into over the course of their internet browsing.

So why did the idea sound so appealing now?

The ponies in Equestria aren’t like the real thing; they’re talking, thinking, feeling creatures that may as well be human, aside from the whole ‘walking on four legs and being miniature horses’ thing. I’d met a few stallions, talked to them, even hung out with them once or twice – but I’d never thought about their dicks, or how big they must surely be, swinging around between their hind legs waiting for a mare to present herself at the right moment and get railed until the stallion filled her up with his seed.

I could feel myself turning red.

“That’s, uh... pretty big. Doesn’t it–”

“Hurt?” Cheerilee finished for me. “No, not particularly. Like most things, it does take some getting used to. But, all-in-all, I think it’s worth it. You just feel so... full during the whole thing. It’s a feeling not quite like anything else.”

“Huh,” I responded flatly. I swirled around my glass of wine, staring into the red liquid as it sloshed around.

I took a sip and let a moment of silence pass.

Cheerilee smirked at me.

“Don’t tell me you’ve thought about–”

“I haven’t,” I blurted, stopping Cheerilee mid-sentence. “I mean, I haven’t... until just now. Until you just said that, I hadn’t thought about it. I mean, how would that even work? It doesn’t seem like there are a lot of ponies who find the idea of a human girl attractive.”

“I think you’d be surprised,” Cheerilee said, setting her empty wineglass onto the corner of the table. She couldn’t tell yet, but I knew the second she stood up all that wine would rush right to her head and she’d be struggling to stand up properly, let alone form a coherent sentence.

“How’s that?” I asked, leaning forward a little more eagerly than I intended. Cheerilee leveled my enthusiasm with a smirk.

“There’s something wonderfully inviting about the idea of another species. I dare say there are ponies who already find the notion of being intimate with a Griffon or a Zebra attractive, though both of those two are a bit closer to ponies than you might be. Still... I’ve heard murmurs around town. The idea is a fair bit... exotic. I think if you asked around, you might find some willing candidates.”

I almost spat out my mouthful of wine.

“Willing candidates for what?” I asked, managing to swallow the bit of vintage red still on my tongue.

“Oh. Well, I thought you’d said since you were considering the idea...”

“I said I was considering... I mean, I was thinking about... that’s not what I said!”

Cheerilee grinned at me. She didn’t get mischievous like this often, and I could tell she was enjoying it. Plus, having the upperhand (upperhoof?) on me meant that despite her imminent drunkenness, I’d likely had more than a fair bit to drink as well – and I am not a quick-witted drunk.

“All I’m saying is that the option is there. I could think of a few nice stallions to introduce you to if you decide to pursue the idea further–”

The doorbell rang before I could lobby a response, whether defensive or compliant. It was a sound neither of us expected, which meant Cheerilee practically jumped when she heard it, and I shook my glass of wine in surprise, almost spilling even more onto the table fast becoming completely red.

“Who could that be at this hour?” Cheerilee asked, more to herself than to me.

I glanced at the clock. It was only just after eight, which meant normal visiting around Ponyville had stopped.

So, who was at Cheerilee’s door this late at night?

Cheerilee stood up from her four-legs kneeled position, and immediately I could see the flush of the wine coursing through her body. She attempted her first step but stopped almost immediately, reaching out to steady herself by placing her hoof on a nearby door-frame and holding herself there for balance. If she didn’t take it slowly, it’d be a miracle if she made it the door.

So, I probably needed to give her a hand.

“Here,” I said, taking one of her forelegs and wrapping it around my waist. Her fur tickled a little against my stomach through my shirt, but I ignored it and did my best to pull her towards the door. I think it might have been a bit cruel to have her field a visitor in her current state, but I was in no better position to do so despite my relatively even-footed abilities. Besides which; it wasn’t my house, and I still felt nervous talking to ponies most of the time anyway.

Cheerilee didn’t bother to look through the peephole before she pulled the door open. She found the handle on the second try.

“Yes?” she asked cheerfully to the pony standing on her doorstep.

It was a big one. A stallion I recognized from town; tall, with a red coat. Big Mac, I think his name was.

“Hello Miss Cheerilee,” he said, shifting his weight to the side to hold the package in his saddlebag a little better. “Sorry to bother you so late at night, but I was tallying up the deliveries for the day and realized I’d missed one. Applejack’d have my head if I forgot a delivery to one of our best customers, so I figured I’d run it to you before the day was all the way over.”

Cheerilee blinked cluelessly in a standstill as Big Mac tucked his snout into his saddlebag and procured the object that had given reason for his trip; a green bottle with a fancy golden label wrapped all around.

“I know how you expect yer, uh, Apple Schnapps every month. Hope the late delivery ain’t too much of a put out.”

Cheerilee took the presented bottle between her two forehooves, luckily managing to keep it steady and not drop it onto the stone of her doorstep. She studied it for a minute as though she was unsure what it contained, but her eyes shone with sudden understanding when she read the label on the side.

“Oh, my. Thank you, Big Macintosh. I wasn’t expecting a visitor so late at night, but I do appreciate your commitment to your deliveries. I promise I wouldn’t have been at all upset if you’d had to wait until tomorrow, though.” Cheerilee did a good job of not slurring her speech despite the five glasses of wine coursing through her body. Maybe she had an extra reserve of composure saved up for situations just like this.

“Ain’t no worry. I wouldn’t forgiven myself if I’d let it sit. That bein’ said, I do apologize for botherin’ ya so late. I’ll let you get back to your evenin’, if that’s alright.”

Big Mac poised to lift his leg and turn to leave when I felt my mouth spring open.  I let loose the only word I could find that seemed appropriate.

“Wait!”

Big Macintosh did exactly that, holding his hoof in the air. Cheerilee turned to me as he did, both of them staring at me, awkwardly holding my hand up, my face still flushed from the wine I’d just downed.

What could I say?

“Uh, I mean... before you go, Big Mac...”–Big Mac seemed surprised I knew his name, though he only showed it with a single raised eyebrow–”...Cheerilee was just saying to me how she was hoping to have, uh, some other ponies over this month. For a get together, over drinks, sort of thing. And she was just, uh, feeling bummed that we had the whole night in front of us and no one else to spend it with. Weren’t you, Cheerilee?”

Cheerilee looked at me with empty eyes for a second before she picked up on the desperate blinking of the hidden signals hiding behind my pupils. She nodded curtly to show she understood, then turned to Big Macintosh with as earnest an expression as she could manage.

“Oh, yes, that’s absolutely right. I was just saying, how, um...” Cheerilee looked to me for guidance, and I scrambled to think of what I could say or do that might key her in on my plan. Even I didn’t know what my plan was, so that might be a little difficult.

‘Get Big Mac over for drinks’ might work as a summary.

Or, one of those other ponies Cheerilee had mentioned.

“...how we should have a dinner-party on short notice!” I finished for her, trying to sound as though we’d discussed the idea in detail before Big Mac’s arrival.

Big Mac, for his part, didn’t seem sure of how to react. He looked back and forth between Cheerilee and me, not letting on if he found our behaviour suspicious.

“Oh, yes, uh. An impromptu get-together, yes, that sounds like an excellent idea. Because–”

“Because you’ve been feeling, uh... lonely.”

Crap. Was that a good angle to play?

Cheerilee caught my eye for a moment. Her look of shock had vanished and was quickly being replaced by the red flush of her drunkenness, as well as a proper understanding of what I was hinting at.

To my surprise, she winked at me.

“Mhm, that’s right too. I have been feeling lonely...” Cheerilee stretched out the last word as she pried herself from the door-framing, standing sideways with remarkable coordination considering her drunken state. As I watched, open-mouthed, she shook her tail once or twice before moving it forward, wafting the tip right under Big Mac’s nose and tickling the bottom of his jaw, then pulled her tail back, giving her hindquarters a little shake in the process.

Big Mac didn’t show any noticeable signs of agitation in his expression, but I thought I saw a bead of sweat run down his forehead.

“...so, I was thinking it would be excellent to have a few stallions – lovely, handsome stallions like yourself – over tonight. Doesn’t that sound like a good idea to you, Big Macintosh?”

Big Mac eyed Cheerilee as she batted her eyelashes at him seductively. He didn’t seem like a stupid pony, which meant he could read the signs Cheerilee was throwing at him a mile away; what was uncertain was how he’d react to them.

I needed to jump in and try to seal the deal.

“I think that would be great too,” I said, ambling towards Cheerilee’s side and resting a hand at the base of her tail. I swore I felt her hips swoon just a little bit towards my touch, but I ignored it.

“In fact, I’d love to get to know you a little better, Big Mac. I always see you around town, and you look like such an interesting pony. Do you think you can make the time for us lonely girls tonight?”

I couldn’t tell if Big Mac was blushing, what with his coat being red and all, but he did swallow particularly loudly before he spoke.

“Well, I... I’m all done deliveries for the day. I suppose I could... say yes to a dinner party, if you’re havin’ one.”

Cheerilee clopped her front hooves together like an excited filly.

“Wonderful! We’d be thrilled to have you, Big Macintosh.”

“Yeah, we would,” I echoed lamely, my hand still at the base of Cheerilee’s tail. I picked it up as I felt her move, shifting sideways and then walking closer to Big Mac until her face was level with his.

“Of course, we would like to have a few more guests to make it a proper get-together. I don’t suppose you could think of another fine young stallion to attend our dinner party, hmm?”

Big Macintosh looked around nervously. His forehead still looked sweaty in the light from Cheerilee’s door-light.

“Well... my cousin, Caramel is on town. He’s a nice fella’, real polite and probly wouldn’t mind dinner with two real nice girls–”

“Nice girls? Why Big Macintosh, that’s so sweet of you.” Cheerilee beamed, and gave another swish of her tail, this time all the way over her back, on the other side of Mac’s face. I noticed him gulp again.

“That being said... I have another request, if you don’t mind. There’s one pony I’d like very much to have over tonight, and I was wondering if you could track him down...”

“Yes,” Macintosh blurted. I think his hormones were in control of his thinking at this point.

“Excellent!” With that, Cheerilee leaned in close and whispered something into Big Macintosh’s ear. I couldn’t make out anything, so I contented myself with leaning back against the wall behind me and hoping it wouldn’t decide to suddenly reorient itself to my detriment.

“Sound good?” Cheerilee asked at regular volume, pulling her mouth away from Mac’s ear.

“Mhm-hmm,” he said and nodded. “I’ll probably need a little while to find Caramel, and uh–”

“Take your time!” Cheerilee interrupted, patting Big Mac on the shoulder. “We’re in no rush, really. The more time you take, the more time we’ll have to prepare for such lovely guests. Isn’t that right, Samantha?”

I blinked as though I’d woken up suddenly and pried myself off the wall, trying to look as invested as possible.

“Oh.... yes, of course. We need time to, uh, get everything ready, anyway, so it’s okay if you take a little bit.”

Mac looked back and forth between both of us. Cheerilee’s face was perpetually sultry, and I tried to put on the best sexy pout I could manage. I think it worked.

“Okay,” Big Macintosh said. “I’ll be back as soon as I can manage.”

“We’ll be waiting!” Cheerilee said and closed the door as Big Macintosh turned to leave. She took a moment to steel herself against the door, watching Big Mac through the peephole as he walked off. When she was convinced he was gone she turned to me, eyes narrow, and a huge grin on her face.

“So,” she said. “What’s the plan?”