One trick pony

Slowly, I approached the second, the street light. Somepony stood beneath it, and as I approached I heard the strange city sounds building. Slowly, the mare came into focus. Her blue hide was a perfect match to P-21’s, but her mane was a pale blue white. She wore a gauzy dress of faintly discolored white lace that drew more attention to her intimate bits than concealed them. And there was shame, empty shame in her soft lavender eyes as she looked at me with a hollow smile.
“Hey. . . want to see a trick? Twenty bits.” As I stared at her, her smile trembled atthe edges. “I mean. . . fifteen?”

I was completely baffled. “Who are you?”

The question was a knife through her. “I’m. . . ah. . . Trixie. . . cause I can do. . . you know. . . tricks. . . ” I supposed the look she was trying for was ‘sultry’ but delivered ‘pathetic.’ “Twelve bits? Please?”
Trixie? Who the hay was Trixie? I opened my mouth. . . reconsidered. . . then forced a smile. “Sure.” I never saw a unicorn look so relieved to earn so little. I’d found that many bits just sorting through the trash.

“Thanks. . . you. . . you know. . . I’m really good. . . so maybe you might. . . um. . . pay more? If I am, I mean?” Somehow, it didn’t seem to register that I didn’t have any way I might be keeping money on me. Either she couldn’t tell in this. . . memory? Projection?... or she was just really bad at this! She led me to a near by motel just down the street.

“Rent’s due, Trixie,” the sour lemon buck said without looking up from his television. “Better fuck a gold mine out of her.”

I wanted to shoot him right then and there from the shame on her face. But she didn’t say a word. No comeback comment. Nothing. From the shame in her eyes, it was clear she was hoping to get a goldmine out of me. So to speak. . .

The dingy little room had a musty, musky smell to it, and the sole bulb painted everything in amber. Still, there were posters on the wall, aged and delicate things showing a mare on stage while bold letters declared “Behold the Great and Powerful Trixie!” There were pictures of her animating a rope, of summoning a swirling
lightning cloud. I looked away from the posters to ask about them.

She was trying to do a striptease. . . and was so bad at it that I hadn’t even noticed. “So. . . do you like what you see?” She said as she climbed onto the bed. I didn’t. I didn’t want to have sex with her. I wanted to hug her. . . but a hug would kill her. Still, I went though the motions with her.

It wasn’t good. This wasn’t good. No amount of sex should have that many quiet tears.

When we finally gave up and lay there together, she stared at my chest. I stroked her mane; it needed a good washing. “So. . . um. . . again? . . . baby?” she added as she dared to meet my eye. I killed her with a look. My expression crumpled her like a tin can as she shook. “I’m sorry. . . ” she whispered.

All I could be was kind as Trixie clung to me in that filthy room surrounded by walls of failed dreams. If things had been different. . . but I stroked her softly. I’d maimed her with my pity. “Not even worth one bit. . . ”