Jeanie the Genie

Copyright Oggbashan August 2015

Edited September 2015

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.

The information about genies is fictitious. Don't try any of the information on your neighbourhood genie. September edit is to correct a minor plot error.

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For mid-morning on Sunday in early August on the North Thanet coast the weather was appalling. There had been a severe storm from the North East last night, and although the wind had reduced there were heavy showers. It was raining hard as I parked my car.

Since my retirement a couple of years ago I had become a beachcomber, looking for items to turn into works of art. Whether they were actually art was dubious. I tried, but I'm not really competent. I have great ideas. My execution is a long way short of the ideas. I'm improving yet I have butchered some interesting beach finds into parodies of my intentions.

Normally I beach comb in the winter when there are fewer people around and more items thrown up by storms. Last night's storm and today's bad weather gave me an unexpected opportunity. If I went far enough from the car park any interesting flotsam or jetsam would be mine. I unloaded my trolley, my small sports holdall and added a plastic tarpaulin to the pop-up angler's shelter. I might need to cover whatever I found. If in my shelter, no one else would take it.

Why did I bother? The car park was empty. No other idiot would be out in this driving rain. I thought, if she knew, my ex-wife Alice would be laughing at me. She used to complain that I had no interests apart from my work. That was the main reason she gave for leaving me. I think she lied. Alice had met Jason, her toy boy, years before she asked for a divorce. But she had been right. Work had been my only interest. Even now, beachcombing was a pastime, not a real interest. Making an art work was more satisfying, or would be if I was even slightly skilled.

How far should I go? Did it matter? Anything washed up during last night wouldn't have been taken. Even the most dedicated dog walkers wouldn't have gone further than they had to. I started walking, scanning the shingle beach from the top of the sea wall.

After half a mile I had a few pieces of twisted tree roots in my trolley. None of them really inspired me but they might do for practice. A few hundred yards ahead was an indentation, a small cove, as the sea wall diverted inland. That cove caught most of the interesting stuff. I pulled the hood of my anorak down as I stomped into the driving rain. At the cove I turned around so my back was to the wind and rain. Only then could I see an accumulation of debris.

I lifted the shelter and tarpaulin off the trolley. I would be here for an hour or so, and the shelter would be pleasant whenever I took a break. I erected it in a couple of minutes in my usual place, a grassy level area well above high tide. The tent pegs slid into the sodden ground. I used more pegs than usual because of the wind. I threw the tarpaulin into the shelter and set off towards the debris.

The storm had eroded the shingle beach to a steeper curve than normal. As I scrambled down towards the flotsam my feet dislodged stones in a series of mini-avalanches. I heard a crunch as if I had trodden on a plastic bottle. I didn't look back. Why should I? I'd see it when I left the beach, and that debris looked very interesting.

"Sam? Are you going to ignore me?"

That voice raised feelings I hadn't had for years. It was sultry, sexy and alluring. I spun around, nearly falling over.

Standing halfway down the shingle bank was a woman dressed in translucent harem pants, a short top and a half yashmak partly covering her lower face. She had a very large transparent shawl or veil over her head and shoulders. The rain was beginning to soak her as I watched. I was speechless. Where had she come from? She can't have walked from the car park because she had been virtually dry when I turned round.

I stumbled my way towards her.

"You'd better get into my shelter," I said. "You're not dressed for this weather."

She wasn't. She was barely dressed at all. Her attire might be suitable for a bedroom in a hot climate but not for a wet English summer. It looked like a 1950s Hollywood costume for an exotic dancer, not real Eastern attire. Except for her bra, panties and open waistcoat, everything was translucent. Her yashmak and veil were almost transparent with a tinge of pink.

"Is that an invitation?" She asked. "I need an invitation."

"Be my guest," I replied automatically.

"Your guest, Sam? Thank you."

She went up that bank and into my shelter as if she was on level ground. I scrambled and slid after her. She was sitting cross-legged at the back. I grabbed my holdall to pull out a towel. I handed it to her.

"I think you need this," I said.

"Thank you, Sam. Please come in too."

There was barely room for both of us in there. I shed my wet anorak and pushed it under the tarpaulin. She was towelling her hair, masses of long brown hair reaching down to her waist.

"Who are you?" I asked, "and why..."

"I'm Jeanie, of course, Sam," she replied. "Can't you see my brown hair?"

As she dried it I could see it was light brown hair.

"Jeanie with the light brown hair?" I asked, stupidly.

"Yes, Sam. I'm Jeanie the Genie with the light brown hair."

I thought I'd humour her.

"And what is Jeanie the Genie doing here?"

"You released me from my bottle, Sam."

"I did? When? How?"

"When you went down to the beach. You broke my bottle and here I am."

"I didn't know I had. What does that mean, Jeanie?"

"It should mean, Sam, that I owe you three wishes."

"Wishes? Don't they usually end up badly?"

"Sometimes, Sam. It depends on the wisdom of the person making the wish."

"I'm not sure about making a wish, but if you have magical powers, surely for your own sake you ought to do something about the rain, Jeanie. And perhaps find some more suitable clothing. Is that possible?"

"Clothing, yes. Fixing the English weather? That's probably beyond my capabilities. How would you like me to be dressed, Sam?"

"It's not what I want," I emphasised, "It's what you would be comfortable and dry wearing. I think I have a spare lightweight anorak in my car. I could get that but your legs would still get very wet, Jeanie."

"This is the traditional female Genie costume, Sam. It's supposed to give you ideas."

"It does, Jeanie, it does. Ideas I thought were long gone. But it isn't very practical in the pouring rain. I don't want a Jeanie with pneumonia."

"But you do want a Jeanie? That's a good start for us, Sam. Turn your back for a few seconds, please?"

I looked out at the pouring rain. Was there a faint hint of lighter sky in the far distance? Or was it just my wishful thinking?

"You can turn round now, Sam."

Jeanie was wearing clothes like mine, obviously feminine, but waterproof. Her hair was bundled into a headscarf that was covered by her anorak's hood. She held out a neatly folded pile of clothing.

"Put these in your holdall Sam. I'll need them later."

I stared at her. She had shed her yashmak. Jeanie looked almost like my ideal woman, or perhaps better than my imagination could have produced. She had a wonderful face that was expressive and smiling. Only her eyes gave a hint of vast experience of the world. They looked as if she had seen everything. She waved the pile of clothes.

"Sam?"

"Sorry, Jeanie..."

I took the clothes and put them carefully in my holdall.

"Now, Sam, can we go somewhere to find some food? I haven't eaten for thirty years..."

"There's a pub..."

"I know there is. Come on. Put your anorak on, pack your shelter, and let's go. I'll make a couple of changes to my appearance if I'm going to be with you."

I reached for my anorak. It was dry. How? I didn't care. I had Jeanie beside me. She had changed. As I had first seen her she looked to be in her twenties. Jeanie still looked much younger than me but had subtly aged. She was still devastatingly attractive but a mature woman, perhaps fifteen years younger than me. The wet shelter was soon bundled onto my trolley. As I trundled it back towards the car park Jeanie's hand was tucked into my crooked arm as if it belonged there.

I loaded the trolley and its contents into my car as Jeanie stood in the pub's porch. As I looked at her, bundled up in wet weather clothing, she still looked like the most attractive woman I had seen in years. She was the first for a decade that had given me an instant erection. Her voice had done that even before I had seen her. Looking at Jeanie kept my erection hard.

She almost dragged me into the pub. I sat her down at a table close to the log fire. She was shedding her outer layers of clothing as I went to the bar to ask for the menu.

"We haven't got much today, Sam," the landlord said. "We weren't expecting many customers in this weather. You two are the first today."

"What have you got, Alex?"

"We could do cottage pie with peas and carrots. The vegetables will be from frozen but Mary made the cottage pie last night. That do?"

"Yes please, Alex. Two cottage pies. I'll have to ask her what she wants to drink. I'll have my usual. I'm driving."

"OK, Sam. I'll tell Mary to get the meals going while you ask your friend what she wants. It's just as well the pub is empty. She looks wonderful. All the lads would be crowded around her."

Alex disappeared through the door to the kitchen before I could reply. I went back to Jeanie.

"They only have cottage pie, Jeanie," I said. "I've ordered that. What would you like to drink?"

"Do they have any red wine?"

"Yes. It will be fairly basic but reasonably palatable, Jeanie."

"Then a large glass of red wine please. I haven't had a drink for..."

"...thirty years." I finished for her. "You don't look as if you've been waiting thirty years, Jeanie. You must have been very young then."

"Silly Sam. Genies are almost immortal. You don't want to know my real age. I can look any age I want. I chose this appearance just for you."

"And it works, Jeanie, how it works. You look wonderful."

"I'll feel better with a drink and some food." Jeanie looked pointedly at the bar. Alex was back.

"A large glass of red wine for the lady, please," I said.

Within less than a minute Alex brought my soft drink and Jeanie's red wine to our table.

"Welcome to my hostelry," he said to Jeanie. "You're new here, aren't you?"

I thanked him for the wine but Jeanie didn't answer his question.

"Mary says the meals will be ready in about a quarter of an hour. That OK?"

"Yes, Alex, thank you."

He went back to the bar, slowly, as if unwilling to leave Jeanie behind. I could understand how he felt. I didn't want to lose Jeanie either, but how long would a genie stay?

"Jeanie, how come you were in that bottle?" I asked quietly.

"Shh, Sam. Don't talk about that now." Jeanie whispered fiercely at me. "Wait until we are alone. You'd better call me Jean when we're here. You friend Alex would think you have gone mad if you talk about genies. Later."

"There will be a later?"

"Yes, Sam. We have to sort out your three wishes and our relationship. You've got a spare bedroom, haven't you?"

I nodded.

"Then I'm a distant cousin -- from Australia -- staying with you for a while. Your cousin Jean." Jeanie emphasised the 'Jean'.

"OK, Jean. You will be very welcome to stay with me."

"As your guest, Sam?"

"Yes, Jean. As my guest."

"Thank you, Sam. The word guest is important. I couldn't enter your house without your invitation. A guest has responsibilities as well as the host. As your guest I can't harm or hurt you. Unfortunately some of us don't stick to the rules and give us a bad name." Jeanie was still whispering, her brown hair caressing my cheek as she leaned close to me.

"When Alex comes back, introduce me as your cousin Jean from Melbourne." Jeanie continued.

"You're sure?"

"Yes, Sam. I'll sound as if I am from Melbourne."

She did. I introduced her to Alex as he brought our cottage pie. Jeanie had exactly the right accent and intonation.

Jeanie ate the cottage pie with obvious enjoyment. I had to order another glass of wine for her. I was slightly worried that two large glasses of wine would be too much. They didn't seem to affect her at all.

We left shortly after finishing the meal. No other customers had braved the bad weather. I drove the short distance to my house, very conscious that I had a beautiful woman sitting beside me, even if she was a genie.

I parked my car on the drive, retrieved the holdall, and opened the car door for Jeanie. We dashed for my front door. I opened it, and stood aside to allow her to enter.

"Not like that, Sam," Jeanie said quietly. "I need to be carried across your threshold, please."

I threw the holdall inside. Jeanie fitted snugly against my shoulder. I pushed the door shut with my foot. I carried her through to the living room. I sat down, still holding her. I didn't want to let Jeanie go.

"Sam," Jeanie said, "we need to shed our wet clothes."

She was right. We were still wearing out waterproof outerwear. Jeanie climbed off me. I stood up, took my anorak and over-trousers off. I took them out to the hall and hung them up to dry. As I came back, Jeanie was taking off her headscarf. She shook her hair as it was uncovered. It splayed in a shimmering mass. Now dry and loose, it wasn't light brown.

"Yes, Sam. Light brown is a euphemism for ginger. Jeanie with the ginger hair doesn't sound the same, but I'm a ginger."

She was. A wonderful ginger with a faint trace of freckles across her nose and cheeks. Light brown or ginger didn't matter to me. Jeanie was perfect.

"Can I have my clothes out of the holdall please?"

"Of course, but what you are wearing is more practical, Jeanie."

"They would be, if they existed. They're an illusion. My clothes, please?"

I fetched them from the holdall. I turned my back while Jeanie dressed. I cheated. There was a mirror over the fireplace. I saw a flash of naked Jeanie as her modern clothes disappeared. She was wearing skimpy panties and a bra that weren't really concealed when she put her genie costume back on. She left her shawl and yashmak off, tucking them into the waistband of her translucent trousers.

For once I was grateful that my former wife Alice had insisted on full length net curtains. No one looking in would believe that Jeanie, dressed as skimpily as she was, could be my cousin from Melbourne.

"Can we talk?" I asked.

"Talk? Is that all you want to do, Sam?"

"You know it isn't. But I'm still confused. I didn't expect to meet a Jeanie today."

"And one you saved from her imprisonment, Sam. She owes you three wishes..."

"I'm not sure about them either, Jeanie. You are a shock, a very pleasant shock, but..."

"You'd like to know what the implications of saving a genie are?"

"Yes, Jeanie, and a lot more about the situation. I like, no love, the Jeanie I see. I don't want her to go before..."

"Before you've got to know her better?"

The way Jeanie spoke that, I knew that she meant know in the carnal sense. My continued erection was a sign of my desire for her.

"OK, Sam. Can we move to the kitchen and have some coffee?"

I thought hurriedly. Was the kitchen overlooked? It wasn't.

"Yes, Jeanie. Have you got any other clothes? You don't look like my cousin from Melbourne."

"Other clothes? No, Sam. These are what I was wearing when I was forced into the bottle."

"Who did that?"

We were walking into the kitchen. Jeanie was leaning against me and had pulled my arm around her bare waist.

I made the coffee. I was very aware that Jeanie was wearing next to nothing.

"Aren't you cold?" I asked as I gave her the mug.

I sat down beside her on the small cottage settee placed in the alcove that had housed the solid fuel range when my house was built.

"Cold? No. I know I'm making you feel hot." Jeanie grinned.

"You are. You know you are. But can we talk about genies? And how you came to be in a bottle?"

Jeanie made a face.

"I suppose I must. It will take some time. OK. Genies, particularly male genies, are fiercely territorial. They want an exclusive area to themselves and to expand it whenever they can. They are like young males of most species, aggressive if anyone threatens their chosen territory. Genies can gain increased power and therefore territory in two ways. The first is by tricking humans. The three wishes is just one of their ploys. Every time a human makes a genie-inspired disastrous choice the genie gets stronger.

The other way is to force another genie into a bottle. The successful genie gains half the power of the one who ends up imprisoned, until the captive genie is released. If one genie is much stronger than another the result is obvious. But trickery can be used too. At any time at least half the world's male genies are in bottles. It doesn't harm them but it is an enforced and boring hibernation. They can only be released by a human."

"What about female genies, Jeanie?"

"Shh! I was just getting to them. Female genies are also territorial but their territory is sex. They gain power by having sex with male genies, or sometimes with female genies. The male genie can consent to sex and that consent gives the female some of his power. But if she has successfully seduced an unwilling male genie, not only does she gain much more power, but she can force him into a bottle when he is exhausted by too much sex. She is at risk. If she fails to seduce an unwilling male, she ends up in the bottle.

But the risk is worth it. If she is a successful seductress she can become so powerful that no male genie can force her into a bottle by strength or even trickery. She is her own person."

I was about to ask Jeanie if she had ended up in a bottle by failing to seduce a male genie.

Her soft hand over my mouth stifled my question.

"Shut up and just listen, Sam. I have a better idea. Hold still for a second."

Jeanie pulled her yashmak from her waist band. She lifted it to my face and pressed it lightly to cover me from below the eyes to my neck. She smoothed it with her fingers. It clung to my face as if it was made of cling film.

The sensation was weird. I could breathe freely through my nose inhaling Jeanie's perfume but my mouth seemed gagged. I couldn't speak. It almost felt as if Jeanie's mouth had covered mine.

"Just enjoy that, Sam. That's temporary to stop you from interrupting. It's not really a gag, just a sign that you're my human. You can't speak without my permission. If you want to be released, squeeze my hand three times quickly."

Jeanie's hand slid into mine.

"Where was I? Yes, female genies want independence and power over their own bodies, and of course, to stay out of bottles."

My erection was almost unbearable. Jeanie's voice was so sultry and compelling and combined with the sensation of a prolonged kiss was giving me sensations I hadn't had for years. Jeanie knew the effect she was having on me.

"I think we had better stop there for a few minutes, Sam. Come on. Upstairs to your bedroom. That's what you need."

She was right. I followed her upstairs. Her almost bare behind wiggled in front of me. I still couldn't speak with my face wrapped in her yashmak. Did I want to squeeze her hand and be released? I liked the sensation of a continuing kiss.

Jeanie pushed me on to my back on my bed. Somehow my clothes vanished to reappear neatly folded over a chair. As Jeanie straddled me her clothes joined mine, except for the yashmak still covering my face. I saw that her bush was as ginger as her hair before she impaled herself on my erection.