He came from a bottle. No, you heard me right, a real life twenty-first century genie in a bottle found discarded at the side of the road. At first glance, it resembled a phallic, pinkish-peach flower vase. Even the base was like ceramic testicles. I picked it up and even though it was a cool summer morning, nothing like the humid Georgia heat that would come with the afternoon, the bottle had the warmth of human flesh. It gave the same sensation as would a lover rising from sleep and rustling his way out from underneath a den of blankets.
Nah, it was just my overworked, oversexed imagination getting the best of me. I slipped it into my bookbag next to the June issue of Playgirl Magazine and my little mint green vibrating friend. I worked slow, lingering nights - midnight shift - in an answering service boardroom all by my lonesome. I had to have something to do to pass the time.
Once inside my apartment, I pulled it out, feeling its length a little more, then placed it by the old Smith Corona on my writing desk and went on the first of my morning rituals - the search for food. A leftover slice of double pepperoni and mushroom pizza...ah, the breakfast of champions.
I nibbled on a cold piece of pepperoni, savoring the spiciness and the memory of the lover I'd shared it with the afternoon before. After the main course, I had turned the delivery boy into dessert. It was easy enough to do. Just answer the door naked and see if that slightly- past- puberty college boy doesn't stick around, even if you don't tip him. It's the perfect opportunity to make a couple of his little frat boy fantasies come true.
A loud crash coming from the living room created a sudden halt to my pleasantly erotic memories. Oh, no! Please tell me that loud commotion was not my new toy falling to the floor and splattering into pieces with a guilty looking cat standing over it.
I have a giant black and white tom cat, Steve, with a passion, bordering on obsessive infatuation, for bottles and jars. His logic, "Why should I play with all the little cat toys Caresse's friends give me for Christmas when it's so much more fun to destroy something valuable?"
The pizza forgotten, I dashed into the living room and found a cloud of smoke coming from the top of the, thankfully still in one piece, vase. Steve took off in a hurry, suddenly deciding it was time for him to go out. I didn't have time to chase him; someone had to turn off the smoke detector.
When I turned around, I found a beautiful man in shimmering gold Arabian attire and white cowboy hat. I'm not lying! He had thick, inky black hair and the most beautiful almond colored eyes, physique straight from a romance novel cover, and somehow making his mismatched costume look downright sexy.
"Ma'am, I'm the genie of the bottle and I'm here to grant three wishes to the person who has freed me."
"Ma'am? Somehow I never pictured anyone being called ma'am in Scherezhade's versions of your story."
"No. That was a long time ago and a long way from here. I only ask that when you get your wishes you leave the bottle here in this place you call The South. I have come to have a deep love for this place and wish to remain."
"A southern genie? Cool!"
"What would you like your first wish to be?"
"Anything?" Officially, my cat rubbed the bottle, but what my new cowboy genie didn't know wasn't going to hurt him. Besides, where was the little furry monster now? You snooze, you lose...
"Yes, Ma'am."
"I wish for mindblowing sex!"
