Eq Renaissance Part 12 (Ed)

Big City Lights

    The line stretched from the door all the way around the block.
    This line was not a problem for the group of young men who approached the door.  The bouncer saw them coming, unhooked the velvet rope, and let them pass.  The crowd standing in line didn’t even grumble; they were awed by witnessing celebrity.  The men pushed their way through the wide double doors of the entrance, were momentarily slowed by the second bouncer, who normally collected the covers, and then they passed through a second set of double doors into the club itself without paying a dime.
    At this moment, on this night, it was the single hottest night club in Canterlot City, and thus Equestria.  Two separate bars on either side of the club were tended by the best bartenders money could afford.  There was a narrow strip of tables and chairs that ran, u-shaped, around the front of the place and each bar.  Directly in front of the entrance, a set of stairs led down to the wide, open dance floor.  It was packed full of people dancing and grinding to the thumping beats.  They didn’t quite dance as energetically as the dancers at the clubs out by the university, or as furiously as in the clubs over in the inner city, but they danced nonetheless.
    Past the dancers, past the floor, rose a steep wall of powerful speakers and other audio equipment.  There were banks of lights, and smoke machines.  Above this, and just off center, was a little alcove, a stage where a woman stood and watched the crowd.  Of all the people in the club, she was the one who was really in charge, and they never even saw her.  Her small stage was itself packed with turntables and keyboards and jungles of cables.
    In the pitch black of the recess, the only thing that betrayed her presence was a small red LED on her headphones and mic.  It occasionally shook left to right, as she checked her equipment, or bobbed up and down in time with her own beats.
    She looked out into the club and noticed the group of young men descending into the floor of her house.  She pulled out her cell phone, flipped it open, and dialled.  The blue-glow of the screen illuminated half of her face when she lifted it up to her free ear.  Her cheek and chin were a pale white.  She always wore her large, purple sunglasses, even in the darkness.
    “Yeah,” she spoke into the phone.  “He’s here.”
    Vinyl Scratch listened to the voice on the other end of the line.  “No, he’s with his entourage.
    “Yeah.
    “Yeah.
    “I say you’ve got about thirty minutes before he hops to the next club.
    “Right.  Five.  You got it.”
    She snapped her phone shut and put it away.  It was time to get to business.
    Blueblood, his royal highness, prince of Equestria, danced his ass in the middle of the floor.  Like any of a number of men his age and social and economic stature, he didn’t dance particularly well.  He just sort of shook and flailed his arms, and all the women fawned on him, and tried to dance with him.  He turned from one to the other, judging them.  They all swung their hips better than he could ever hope to, but then again, he had the money and the birthright, so his opinion was the only one that mattered.  He couldn’t make up his mind on which he liked the best.  He wouldn’t remember their faces, let alone ever learn their names, but he did see them shift their gaze towards the door.
    As Prince Blueblood turned to see what was happening, the music sank.  That was the only way to describe it.  It didn’t lower in volume, it just turned muddied, and tinny, as if he were listening to it through a long tunnel.  It was just distorted base, thumping to a tempo that made it seem as if time itself had slowed.  When he turned, he saw her.  She was standing there at the top of the steps, just starting to descend.  She reached the dance floor and people parted out of her way without even seeing her.  Any other person would have had to dodge and weave her way among the crowd if they didn’t want to get struck by a swinging hand, or get knocked to the floor by a grinding hip, but not her.
    The woman walked, swaggered, across the dance floor with all the confidence in the world.  It made her seem otherworldly, as if she rose above all the others present.  Her hips swayed left and right, as her high heels stepped forward with the grace of any model.  They swayed perfectly in beat with the music, although if Blueblood noticed, he never would have suspected it was anything but coincidence.  Her cleavage left exactly enough to the imagination of the tantalized viewer, and her large, firm breasts were held in place by a perfectly tailored dress.  It was all white, pure; a perfect compliment to her angelic countenance.  Her hair was dark.  Blueblood knew it was deep purple in the light, but in the dim night club it looked jet black.  Whether angel or she-devil, Blueblood didn’t know.  He hoped it was the latter.  Around her neck was a necklace of baby blue sapphires.  It was a bauble to him, but he knew enough of the outside world to know it must have cost her everything.  He appreciated somebody giving so much, just to catch his eye.
    She was heading in a beeline straight for where he was standing.  As she approached, the music started to change again.  There was a kind of high pitched wailing behind the deep bass thumping.  It was growing into a crescendo and all of the other dancers were raising their hands up into the air as if caught in the same syrupy slow motion as the music.  She got closer, closer, close enough to touch.  She raised her own hand, up to his face.  The music reached its zenith as she dragged the tips of her fingernails down the side of his chin.  Finally, she flicked her fingernail off the tip of his chin, turned left, and sauntered off to the bar as if he didn’t even exist.
    Blueblood watched her go.  The moment Rarity turned, Vinyl Scratch dropped the beat.  The music suddenly cleared.  That muddy, tinny quality vanished and the crowd cheered in ecstasy and excitement.  Blueblood wasn’t dancing at all.  All he saw was her beautiful figure receding, her butt shaking with every step.  He saw the laughing, smiling faces of his so-called friends.  They were punching him lightly on the shoulder.  Slapping him with the backs of their hands across his chest.  They were teasing him.  Mocking him, because for the first time they had seen their alpha not getting something that he wanted.  He wouldn’t stand for this.
    Blueblood, angered, approached Rarity from behind, where she stood at the bar.  She was chatting with the bartender.  He had a slight, professional smile on his clean-shaven, yet disgustingly working-class face.  It made Blueblood's blood boil to see him even think of flirting with a woman that was by all rights his.
    His frown vanished when he raised his hand up to his face, and brushed back the curly golden locks.  He had the same look he always gave for the cameras or his public appearances.
    “Whiskey sour,” he rapped his knuckles on the bar.  “And one for the lady.”
    “The lady’s already got a martini, buddy,” the arrogant, awful bartender told him, “but if you want to pay for it, that’s fine with me.”  The bartender fixed the drinks and departed towards some other customers at the other end of the bar.
    Blueblood looked and she was indeed sipping gently from a long-stemmed martini glass.  “Come here much?” he asked her, speaking loud over the noise.  A part of his brain told him that was a pretty stupid way to start a conversation.  She ignored him completely.  “I mean, I know the place is new and all.  But it’s one of my favorites.  Me and my posse come here a lot.”  She put an elbow on the bar, a finger and thumb on her chin, then turned to look at him.  She glared.  “What?” he asked.
    “You know, you sure have an awful lot of nerve to even speak to me again.”
    “Huh,” he asked, dumbfounded.  “What did I...,” he tried to think of where he knew this woman from.  There were a lot of women, he couldn’t be expected to remember them all.  “Oh, right,” he finally said, “the Gala!”
    “Yes,” she said, then turned back towards the wall of expensive bottles of liquor, “the Gala.”
    “You’re still mad about that?” he asked.
    “Didn’t any one of your handlers, or your tutors, or your proctors, or your governesses, or whatever on earth you call them ever teach you?  Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”
    “I’m...,” Prince Blueblood was unsure of himself.  He could have had any woman in the club, or any of the clubs.  Why was this one so important?  Nearly every other woman was drop dead gorgeous.  Sure, she might beat them all.  But was it really worth so much effort?  Was she really worth lowering himself to her level?  Was it all because she was playing hard to get?  Blueblood didn’t know, but he decided that he would always regret it if he didn’t at least try to figure out, no matter how embarrassing the effort might be.  “I’m sorry?” he asked, forcing out a half-apology.  This had better work, he thought to himself.
    The music changed.  The kicking amelodic dance music stopped, and was replaced by actually singing.  It sounded like it could have been some boys choir, singing something about romantic love as violins played.  Blueblood felt inspired.  The hairs on his arms stood on end.
    Rarity slowly set her glass down on the bar.  “That’s all I ever wanted to hear,” she said.  She turned to Blueblood and stared up into his face.  For a moment he thought she was about to slap him.  Instead, she reached up with both of her arms, and pulled his head downwards.  She kissed him, hard, on the lips.  Cameras snapped all around them.  The paparazzi wasn’t allowed to even get close to the front door, but everybody else was pulling out their phones.  Tomorrow Prince Blueblood’s new girlfriend would be the talk of the Canterlot social scene.
    Rarity broke the kiss, and lifted her lips up to his ear.  She whispered those three magic little words that he always loved to hear.  “Take me home,” she said.
    They left the club without a hesitation.  The limo pulled right up to the curb as soon as Blueblood came out the door.  He opened the car door before his plain-clothes body guard could do it for him, and in an unusual display of thoughtfulness, held it open for Rarity.  The limo quickly sped away.
    Blueblood’s entourage was left behind to fend for themselves.  They had expected many more hours of clubbing and bar hopping.  They had each expected to find a woman and take her back to the palace.  Each had been hoping for a piece of the action.  Now they would have to find cabs to take them back to their lonely apartments.  Without Blueblood they were nobody.  Tomorrow, sure, they would be all jokes and smiles.  They wouldn’t be bitter about it, of course, at least to him.  He was their man, their alpha.
    As soon as the limo pulled away from the curb, Rarity hooked her leg over Blueblood as he sat in his seat and straddled him.  She planted her lips down on his, and kissed him as passionately as she had ever kissed anybody.  His clumsy hands fumbled at her hair and the back of her dress, and then her grinding butt.  The car drove through the center of Canterlot’s downtown.  Strange, spiralling towers rose high above the street.  Their glowing windows looked like jewels in the night.
    Rarity could feel his stiff erection through the crotch of his pants.  She reached down and began to stroke it.  He grunted in pleasure and his hands fell to his side.  He wasn’t trying to grope her any more, his pleasure was all that mattered.  The limo started up the long winding road towards the palace, which rested higher up the cliff face than the city itself.
    Rarity slid down his body until her knees rested on the soft, carpeted floor of the limo.  She carefully unbuttoned his jeans, then slowly, erotically, pulled down his fly.  His cock practically flew out his boxers, and she grabbed the warm shaft in her fingers, while cooing softly, as if impressed.  She looked up into his face as she started to jerk him off.  He gave out a single soft chuckle and his warm smile grew wider when he saw her purse her lips.  Rarity bent down just a bit and kissed his engorged head.  She only broke eye contact when she eagerly sucked his head into her mouth.
    The prince watched intently as his dick disappeared between Rarity’s lips.  Rarity could smell his cologne.  She could taste the fragrance of his body wash.  They were both cheap.  The kind of brands advertised on the dumb television shows targeted at young men.  The kind found in grocery stores, or even convenience stores.  Despite all of the money, despite the royal heritage, the man himself was shallow and crude.  Rarity ignored that thought.
    She realized she was in a position she had spent a significant portion of her life wishing for.  Marrying this man had once been her dream.  Rarity was no stranger to hard work, but she knew the Equestrian Dream was an illusion.  Some stations in life, the stations she truly desired, couldn’t be accessed by conventional means.  This had been the way to the top of the social ladder.  Now she was climbing up, and it was for a reason far better than she had originally imagined.  Rarity ignored that idea too.
    She refocused her attention on pleasing this man.  She ran her tongue around that stretch of skin that was attached to the underside of his head.  She sucked on the side, like a flute, while rolling her fingers across his sensitive head.  She took him in deep.  He wasn’t particularly well-endowed, yet she still had to struggle.  She held her breath and forced him down her throat until her chin rested on his balls, which she was playing with using her fingers.
    The car slowed as it approached the thick, wrought-iron gates of the palace grounds.  Rarity slowly slid him back out.  On her way back up, she looked back up to see he was still watching and grinning.  He enjoyed seeing the most beautiful, alluring woman in the world in this submissive position.  With the tip still in her mouth, she reached up and pulled down the hem of her dress.  Her large, pale breasts popped out.
    Rarity released him from her mouth, and wrapped her breasts around his hot, wet shaft with both of her hands.  She started to rub them up and down his cock.  She pinched her own nipples with her long fingernails; it was the only stimulation she was receiving.  For a moment, Blueblood watched his hard, pink head emerging and disappearing from between her pillowy, white flesh.  Then he rolled his head back in ecstasy and groaned.
    Rarity took the opportunity to look out the tinted limo window.  Despite the tint, she had a good view of Canterlot Palace rising above them in all its majesty.  In the day it was beautiful, but at night, when it was all lit up, it simply radiated power and glory.  It was probably the most amazing thing Rarity had ever seen.  She barely even noticed the warm, wet drops falling over her chest and neck and the bottom of her chin.  The lights looked like sapphires and amber.  It lit up the marble facade like it was one great gleaming torch that illuminated all of Equestria, and the darker regions beyond.  It was the greatest gem of all, the gem of the world.
    Rarity was finally there.  She had finally made it, and had used nothing but her own cunning and determination.  Soon everything would be in place.