The Sweetest Music

Chapter Fifteen

Three O'Clock Blues

***

"Maybe we could go to a bar tonight?"

Lyra lit up a cigarette as she downed a glass of rye - not her drink of choice, but Bon-Bon didn't have a wide choice of hard liquor. It had been a week since the... 'treatment' started (If 'treatment' stands for daily sex, Lyra remarked delightfully), and Lyra was pretty delighted with it: they had had a few customers, she'd made a couple acquaintances (though she could not remember their names, only faces), and, of course, the amount of loving and tender care she received from Bon-Bon in private was divine. And sex, Lyra reminded herself. Can't forget that.

Still, her soul craved for some blues: Bon-Bon's record collection consisted mostly of jazz, and, while she had grown to love jazz - at least in Bonnie's company - blues still held a dear place in her heart. Lyra was sure that, even if her newfound love for jazz eventually surpassed her previously-established love for blues - if only because it could be associated with her old life, the life she was trying to forget or, at least, pay no attention to - or, pay as little attention as she could; even if... Well, she would still love blues in a very special way: once a year, maybe more, maybe less, she would put on a blues record or two and indulge in a little whisky and tobacco.

Besides, she wanted to treat her mare out - funny how she'd quickly grown to see Bon-Bon as 'her' mare, and was sure than Bon-Bon thought of her the same - even if they would go out as just friends. Technically, their relationship had never been put to words, and Lyra assumed that it could, with a little help of alcohol and good music - after the bar, at home, of course.

"You know, a small place where they play blues and serve booze?" Lyra elaborated, chuckling at her pun that was met with an unamused stare from Bon-Bon.

The confectioner rubbed her chin, looking out of the window. It was way past eight - the time she - they - closed the shop - and evening was already crawling onto Ponyville, and into the dimly-lit living room they were sitting in. "I don't think we have one in Ponyville..." she replied slowly, trying to think of an establishment. Suddenly, an idea hit her. But of course!

Bon-Bon smiled. "I think I know just the place."

***

"The place" wasn't quite what Lyra had expected.

Contrary to Canterlot's basement-like, sub-level, sub-floor club-bars, this one was just a one-storey building that looked more like a pub - or even a restaurant, with the abundance of tables and the whole... cleanness of the establishment. If it weren't for the stage (which was too big for a bar stage), Lyra would have assumed that this was a restaurant - not a fancy one, but still a restaurant.

Bon-Bon placed herself on the chair, straightening the folds on her dress - that made Lyra want to pounce her right there right then - while Lyra just took off her scarf (it didn't itch any more, as it seemed; or she'd got used to the itch), having decided against wearing clothing. Not that she had much.

Lyra glanced at the menu that the waiter had conveniently supplied. She wasn't really hungry, but she could do with a drink. The whisky range of this bar was incredible; way too incredible for Lyra, who liked to just come to a bar and order whisky, and expect that she was served whisky - because what's the need for different sorts?

Meanwhile, Bon-Bon had decided on her order, tapping her hoof against the table. "A daisy salad with yoghurt topping, lettuce soup and... a bottle of rose wine, Bordeaux." The waiter nodded, turning his head towards Lyra.

"For you, ma'am?"

Lyra sighed. Bon-Bon already ordered a whole bottle of wine... But there was never too much to drink, was there? "An Old Fashioned," the mint mare ordered.

"Anything to eat, ma'am?" the waiter suggested. Lyra raised a brow. In Canterlot, a waiter would never infringe like that; and she didn't really like it. Let waiters be waiters, and customers be customers. After all, the waiter didn't look like a maitre d'hotel in a fancy establishment.

"No, I'm good." Lyra closed the menu, watching the waiter collect it and go off to the kitchen. "Who's performing tonight?" Lyra wondered, watching Bon-Bon look at the stage, around which several stallions were already gathering, dragging guitars and equipment. The show was about to begin, as it seemed.

"It doesn't work that way in Crossroads," Bon-Bon explained with a smile. The name of the bar, generic as it was, held some meaning to Lyra: in a way, Ponyville itself was the crossroads that made her make a choice. And that choice was made in Bon-Bon's favour: in the favour of love. Not just Bon-Bon's love, but love in general: her mother's love, family's love, still remained. "Blues guys gather and jam for a while," the cream-coloured mare elaborated as four stallions sat on the stage, cross-legged, their guitars taken from the cushions.

The show began, offering a 'king of the blues' and his three companions.

Lyra had to admit, the music was very nice. It was a smooth, slow blues, and the guitarists really knew how to play: tasty licks supported the raspy vocals, the groovy rhythm was outstanding, and the solos merged perfectly. The performers took turns in their improvisations, but not solitarily: their solos supported one another, made each other stronger, sturdier.

The drinks and the food arrived, and Lyra lit up a cigarette. She had even brought her cigarette holder. Now I just look classy, she chuckled to herself as she sipped on her drink. She didn't really share Bon-Bon's fondness for wine, and the sweet mare knew it.

Once the improvisations had been dished out, the raspy singer gave way to one of the other three stallions to sing a few lines. Still, the four seemed to realise that the 'king of the blues' had a voice superior to his fellow musicians, so he took the lead again, his guitar supporting the vocals.

For a while, Lyra just stared at the musicians, a sense of wrongness welling inside her. Maybe this was just the place - or the fact that she'd listened to jazz for a while - but the performance seemed way too lewd to her. It felt as if the musicians weren't performing, per se; it felt as if they were having an orgy, just letting the audience watch and tap their hooves against the floor.

Lyra scrunched her face with a sigh. "Can we go away, please?" she whispered to Bon-Bon, who was finishing the salad.

The cream-coloured mare only needed to take one glance at the pained, tired face of the wonderful minty mare to reply, "Yes. Just let me get the bill."

***

They had split the bill - like friends do. Though, Lyra would rather have paid for her mare; but, outside of the relative safety of home, they had to put on the masks.

Lyra kicked her hoof against the snowy ground as they trotted home along the night road. "I'm really sorry, Bonnie." Now that they were alone - Ponyville fell asleep pretty early, Lyra had come to understand - she could speak freely again. "But I just couldn't stand it. The performance, I mean," she explained. "It felt like those guys were just having their way with some mare and we were made to watch." Now that she actually said it, it sounded ridiculous. But true. "There was no connection with the audience; it was... bawdy." Lyra paused, searching for words. "Not in the good way; in the disgusting way. It made me want to leave. Maybe it reminded me of Canterlot," she observed. There was some truth to that. She wasn't just making excuses, was she? "I swear I'll treat you out to dinner, in a non-musical place," Lyra promised. "Just a restaurant." She realised they would have to split the bill still. But maybe they could make a show of Bon-Bon having left her purse at home?

"Sure, honey," Bon-Bon agreed, maybe a little too readily. Of course, she did understand Lyra's fragile state; but... of course, she was rather disappointed. Not because she didn't get to finish her meal or because they'd managed to listen to only one song - she hadn't found the music particularly appealing - but because she had been hoping to make Lyra happy. And now the wonderful minty mare - her mare - was disappointed.

Lyra understood Bon-Bon's emotions. At least, she thought so. "Listen, Bonnie... The night's not over." She smiled. "Let me get my lyre and we can spend a nice romantic evening, maybe? I'll play for you. We could just do that at home, of course." And then have some nice romantic sex.

"That would be lovely," Bon-Bon smiled. "And, if you don't mind playing outside, I know a nice place. A place that you'll really like."

***

"I do really like this place," Lyra observed aloud as she looked over the nice, tranquil spot that Bon-Bon had led her to, just outside town. They were alone on the snow-covered plains - just Lyra, and her mare, and the music. Constellations smiled at them from the sky: the observers that wouldn't mind two mares expressing their emotion. And that, they could do, being away from the city, away from the ponies, away from everything.

The lyrist nuzzled her mare and unpacked her instrument, gazing at it lovingly. Her very first - and her favourite - lyre, the one that was bought by her mother and her grandparents - at her mother's side. She did love her grandparents, even though her grandfather could be rather grumpy - but he was so wise - and her grandmother would occasionally call her 'lee-ra' instead of 'lai-ra' - but she was one of the sanest ponies (were there any?) she knew. Of course, there was a possibility of her father also providing bits, maybe indirectly, but Lyra didn't want to think about it. Or him. Not because she wanted to forget - but because it was simply not worth mentioning. If Bon-Bon asked, she'd tell her; but she knew there would be no emotional attachment to the topic.

"I... I've never performed that song before, even to myself," Lyra admitted. "I composed it a couple days ago, but never picked up the lyre since I came here from Canterlot. I wrote it for you." The mint mare blushed slightly. "It's not long, and it's not blues or jazz-"

Bon-Bon silenced her mare with a breezy kiss. And that was all the inspiration and encouragement needed for Lyra to take up her instrument and play.

The song started out a simple tune - just playing over the chord, tugging at the strings with her telekinesis; but is soon grew into a development, and a quite powerful one; or, at least, so it seemed to Bon-Bon. Lyra herself didn't pay attention to it, lost in the sad, yet hopeful, serene melody. She had written it as a lullaby to her mare - and the said mare, she noticed out of the corner of her eye, was smiling through tears.

Next came the chords, heavy, longing, desperate, even, but the melody, the solo gave them meaning, and a way to develop. A pause - and, with a reprise, Lyra finished up the song on a chord.

For a moment, both mares lay still, Lyra suddenly feeling the weight of her mare's head in her lap. She instantly relaxed, remembering that there was nopony around to see them. "This was so lovely," Bon-Bon whispered, kissing Lyra's knee. "Thank you, honey."

"I wrote it for you..." Lyra paused, unsure whether to continue. Ah, to hell with it. Just say it already! You know that's true!  "Because I love you." The unicorn kissed the top of her mare's head, inhaling the soft smell of her mare, the cold having nothing against the two lovers.

Not even a tiny second had passed before the meaning of the words sank in. Bon-Bon smiled happily. "I love you too, honey." She nuzzled her mare's knee. Finally the words were said. Did it change anything? No? Maybe? Did it even matter? Did it matter, now that she could lie in her lover's lap, breathing in the fresh night air and say those sacred words?

"I love you."