Three wishes
She was a financial analyst, content with her life, not really happy but nothing to complain about. Just bored, really. She jogged early mornings so she could forget that for a bit, imagine her life was ok.
Stopped for coffee at a new joint, hadn't this been a dry cleaner? Order what's-the-point low-cal decaf dishwater, gotta keep the belly flab under control, stay lean and mean, keep the compact brown frame looking dangerous. No real reason; nobody to fuck, the guys at work all drones, the women fierce bitches, just like her really. Not gonna shit where she ate in any case.
Took the Grande cup to the sidewalk, sipped - ow! At least it was hot. Tasted bitter and watery. Like my life! she thought uncharitably. Where did that come from?
Next door down: a bookstore! Faded scratched painted letters on the glass, dark inside so she couldn't see anything. Looked like it'd been there a century or more.
Couldn't be here; been by a hundred times and never saw a bookstore. Well, a couple dozen times. Well, twelve times; it was easier to slack at home than actually put on the jogging shoes and compression shorts and do the damn exercise.
She went in, an ancient bell-on-a-springy-thing giving a tired jingle.
"Hello?"
Nothing; maybe somebody in a room behind the dusty counter but otherwise quiet, deserted, could be the only one in here, the only one here in years her imagination told her.
She almost left, then noticed the cards above the shelves, Romance, History, Health in hand-lettered calligraphy. And maybe further back - Investment? That could be interesting.
She wandered back, abandoning her pointless coffee-substitute on the age-fogged brass-and-glass counter as she passed, idly stopping here and there to look at a title. Nothing she recognized; no authors she'd ever heard of. Many in foreign languages!
The shelves had knick-knacks, bookends really, brass elephant and carved onyx paperweight and such. More interesting than the books. Here was a Bali dancer in dark wood, one leg in the air, arms raised with hands pointed at right angles, blank look on her face. Naked. She picked it up, ran her fingers over the carving. Detailed! She could feel the nipples, little nubs. Was that a clitoris? Fun!
She'd passed Investment, no longer really looking for anything, just exploring. Made her way to the back, the only light a grimy window onto an alley, morning light barely adequate. Idly stroked a tired brass tobacco jar? Anyway engraved, old, stained, once fine but now features worn, obliterated by time.
The lid loosened, seemed to jiggle on its own. Something inside? A spider? A mouse? She tossed it back on the shelf, stepped back, not scared but surprised.
It continued to rattle, turning under its own power, threaded or notched or something, doing some increasing vibrating dance like it was alive and twisting, unfastening, then with a jerk! it popped free, fell to one side, stilled.
Vapor inside, like a vape but darker and with little sparks and too much moving around. It gathered itself, disturbed and now coming out, lifting, growing, filling the air, filling the aisle, rising toward the vaulted ceiling!
She was ready to find the fire alarm, didn't you pull a toggle or break the glass or something? Nothing obvious, this place was too old, a fire hazard.
And it was coalescing anyway, becoming less wispy-spirit and more solid-thingy, maybe a person but improbably tall.
It formed, was suddenly very real. Virile, dark, bald head, hairless everywhere in fact. Bulging naked chest and that was nice, abs like she'd love to own, love to fondle, bulging crotch swaddled in silks and nothing else, gotta see what was under there at some point.
So. A genie. Who'd of thought it?
What now? She stepped forward.
"Do I get three wishes?"
The light changed suddenly, scaring her. Did the earth move under her feet? Did time and reality just shift? Read too many science-fiction stories bitch, get a hold on yourself.
He seemed saddened now, but the look passed. Decided to humor her, to speak.
"You have it wrong, whore. The old stories have been twisted into something ridiculous. In a transaction between me, a powerful spirit, a master of the mysteries of the Universe and you, a fragile mayfly of flesh and skin and base desires, who's wishes will be fulfilled, hmmmm?
"No it is I that have three wishes, three opportunities to satisfy my desires, three ways I will use your body and soul for selfish pleasure.
"Dormant a century, my lust has grown to terrifying heights! Fear me and my world-conquering will!" By which he clearly meant, his enormous dong, rising now from under those silks, nearly rampant.
He was really sexy when he got all I am the Master! She had a sub kink, who knew? She felt an answering pang in her twat and a trickle leaked out.
"I can deal. Let's get started!"
He reached for her, and she thrilled at his touch, a surge of venal attraction for this mysterious stranger who was clearly going to screw her proper, right here, right now in the back of this dark deserted bookstore.
Fuck yeah! Been too long.
He looked her up and down, smiled a little smirk. Well, she was fit and sexy, worked hard for that. Of course, he'd want her, want to get up in her, she was a hot package for sure.
"You will suck my cock, whore."
"No way! It's the size of my thigh! Never gonna get that in. How about I lick it? I could barely get around it with both hands!"
A toothy smile now; his hand released her shoulder and gripped her boob band, shredding it somehow and tossing the scraps into thin air.
She thrilled as he tilted his head, took in her naked chest, admiring his toy, his girl-flesh that he was going to have. Her taut belly; her glorious Hispanic hips, thanks Grandma for that!
