Life in a Bottle

Supernatural Writing Contest - 2435

Life in a Bottle

         Jason Wickoff tentatively stepped onto the beach, flinching at the heat rising off the white sands leading to the sea. Coolness from the breeze flowing from the ocean gave scant relief from the blazing sun.

         ‘Some vacation,’ he thought, as he slathered sun lotion onto the exposed parts of his body. He couldn’t swim, he burned about as easily as a vampire in the sunlight, and he distinctly remembered putting an ‘X’ in the box in front of “2-week National Museum Tour” when it came to prize choices before drawing the winning ticket in the office raffle.

         Well, he'd won; then discovered that he’d actually lost when he found where his winning two weeks would take him. Even kicking the hot sand in frustration didn’t give him any satisfaction; in fact, it burnt the top of his foot.

         Twenty-six, recently endowed with an MBA in quantum mechanics and the lead physicist in the science laboratory of a leading university, he had his own ideas of how a ‘dream vacation’ should work out. And it wasn’t sweating his ass off on some remote beach in the Caribbean. Worse yet, he wasn’t a social creature at all, preferring the company of books and artifacts whenever possible. And drink? Don’t even go there.

         Physically, he kept pretty toned by daily jogs at the university, but he found that the small, cramped streets of this beachfront area were dangerous to be caught in on foot, so he retreated to the relative safety of the beach. So it went, and over the past few days he’d get up really early, cross the burning sands to the damp area at the sea’s edge, and put in a couple of half-miles to maintain his routine.

         Although the lonely jog down the beach was better than nothing, he still had frequent opportunities to observe the bikinied beauties that shared his desire for un-crowded, cool access to the spacious beachfront early in the morning. Jason wasn’t immune to sexual attraction; he simply wasn’t savvy enough to access their charms.

         On the fourth day of his ‘vacation’, he’d gotten up early as usual and did his regular ‘tippy-toe’ across the superheated sand to the water’s edge. This morning would redefine his life, although he didn’t know it yet.

         As advertised, the weather was breathlessly beautiful, the morning breeze wafted through the air towards the beach, providing some, but certainly not all of the cooling needed for him to begin his jog. He’d taken all precautions for his protection, and although he was sweating like he’d already run several miles, he began his jog.

         He hadn’t gone but fifty yards or so when he stumbled upon a cliché. A cliché’ you say? Yes; a small purple bottle, not more than the size of his fist, was partially buried in the sand, and he had the bad fortune to stub his toe on it. Annoyed, he tried to kick it back into the sea, but like his kick at the hot sands earlier in his vacation, he simply hurt his foot, and the bottle was rolled back onto the beach by the waves as he rubbed the pain from his foot.

         Shaking his head, he stood up, and continued his jog down the beach, wondering when this boring nightmare would end. At the end of the beach, he turned and began his return jog. Once he completed this lap, he’d return to his air-conditioned apartment, and read a good book on archaeology, sipping ice-cold mountain spring water.

         On his way back however, the bottle lay directly in his way, and he considered another urge to kick it into the sea again, but remembering the result of his last try, he passed. Jogging around it, he proceeded down the beach towards his destination, but began to have second thoughts. He stopped, jogged back to the vessel, and picked it up.

         Bulb-shaped, fitting in the palm of his hand, he noted that the bottle itself was clear, and the purple color came from whatever lay within. It was stoppered with a glass plug, sealed with some kind of resin, and the general wear on the bottle seemed to indicate that it’d spent considerable time in the ocean.

         Turning it in his hands, he thought, wryly, ‘That’s just what I’d need, a genie in a bottle; then I could fly off to finish this vacation in style.’ He was just about to fling it back into the ocean when he decided to satisfy his curiosity further. Taking a firm grip on the bottle, he gave a mighty twist on the stopper, and after a couple of fierce tugs, finally freed it from the bottle.

         It was not filled with fluid as he’d originally thought, but a thick, purple gas, slowly dribbling out of the neck of the bottle. ‘Just what he needed,’ he thought. ‘Some kind of radioactive gas that would be the fitting end to his already tortuous ‘prize vacation.’

         Dropping it back into the sand, he resumed his jog to its completion, and returned to his apartment. A quick shower and some ice water, and he tried to focus on book that he’d been reading, but couldn’t concentrate. His incident with the bottle caused his mind to wander back to possibilities. What if…? What if wishes and dreams could come true?

         A highly trained scientist, he knew that just wasn’t possible, and that life was simply whatever one made of it. But still…?

         He hadn’t been asleep too long, he noted, by the hands on the clock next to his chair, and the lights were still on and the TV running.

         It was nearly 3am, and something had broken him from his slumber, and he looked around the apartment for the cause. The cause for his interrupted slumber became quite clear in a moment, as he gazed at the young lady sitting cross-legged on the foot of his bed, now watching him. A quick glance at the door revealed that it was still locked and the chain was in place, which was a little puzzling.

         Her hair was swept up in a flowing purple silk scarf, but her complexion was light olive, eyes framed in conservative makeup, accentuating her dark piercing eyes. Unlike his perception of what a ‘standard’ genie should look like, she was clothed in a diaphanous light purple gown that gently cascaded down her body to conceal all, but really conceal nothing of her lithesome body.

         He immediately thought of three possible reasons for seeing this apparition before him, none of which made a whole lot of sense. First, he could be dreaming, in which case this might make some sense. Second, he could be the victim of an assassination, which really made no sense at all. Lastly, she could be the genie that he was thinking about when he removed the stopper from the bottle on the beach, which he knew was impossible.

         Finally, his attention was brought back to the woman by a giggle, and her odd statement, “It’s about time, wishes shouldn’t have to wait forever.”

         ‘Wishes?’ he thought. Maybe this was a genie, improbable as it seemed. Or, more likely, he was dreaming this.

         He watched carefully as she stepped off the bed, shaking the translucent gown down around her body. Barefooted, she cocked her head and slowly made her way to where he sat. Looking up at her, he suddenly felt like an impala might when cornered by a leopard. The only difference might be the fact that he had somehow come up with a painfully rigid erection.

         Her smile as she observed this phenomena did nothing to dispel his sense of helplessness in her presence, and he frantically tried to remember the traditional sequence of events whenever a mortal brought forth a genie; to no avail. He kept his eyes on her as she reached down, grasped his shirt and drew him to his feet. Soon, they were looking at each other, eye to eye.

         The soft scent of incense began to permeate the room, and her touch upon his cheek seemed to drain any resistance that he might have had from him. On reflection, he didn’t feel any desire to resist, and was cautiously hopeful that his silly, adolescent daydream might come true.

         That she appeared hungry he had no doubt, and if so, he was the blue plate special. Leaning in to nibble on his face, she touched synapses that he never knew he had, sending ripples of sexual energy across his body and into his groin. This was not going to be a normal dream, he decided.

         He’d been way too long without sexual release, and it soon became apparent that his apparition shared his dilemma. Her hunger drove her to devour him beginning at the top, releasing him from his clothing on the way down. On his own part, as soon as he reached for the top of her gown, she stepped back, reached behind her, and unhooked something that allowed the whole ensemble to drop around her ankles.

         If he was enraptured before, he was stunned now, as the sight of her naked body took his breath away. Perfectly sculpted, the sight before him could only be described as ‘any man’s wish.’ Flawless, no markings to indicate anything but perfection.

         These days, Jason recalled, women frantically adorned themselves with silly piercings and meaningless tattoos, all in an attempt to improve upon nature, instead reducing themselves to ridiculous canvasses for inane graffiti.

         Naked, they stood before each other, and just about the time that Jason had made up his mind to take advantage of this probable ‘wet dream,’ his apparition simply reached down to grasp his penis, already erect in a rigid salute to her beauty. Two things were certain; he wasn’t a bit embarrassed by his exposure, and he was actually looking forward to this phantom adventure, a welcome diversion to his boredom.

         Acknowledging his inexperience in the art of making love, he reluctantly took a passive role in this encounter. Besides, other than the odd way things were working out, he really had no idea of her actual intent. But hopefully, since this was his dream, it’d work out in his favor.

         Watching her face, he was reassured by her smile of satisfaction as she softly caressed his sex, and as she extended her caress to his testicles, he suddenly didn’t feel so much in control anymore. Encouraged, he reached out to her face and traced his own way down her body, relishing a sexual freedom that he’d not had before in his sequestered life.

         “It’s been way too long,” she whispered, snapping him out of his thoughts. He’d finally gotten his hands on her soft, supple breasts, and had briefly tweaked her nipples, but didn’t know whether her response was due to that, or to what she’d been doing to his genitals.

         Now he was afraid that he’d wake up too soon, and all of this would go away. On impulse, he bent into her face to kiss her, but she was already on her way to her knees in front of him, without relinquishing her touch on his body. As he felt her nibble around his inner thighs up into the apex of his groin, he panicked, doubting whether he’d even be able to last through this initial phase of their tryst.

         His knees were turning to water, and as he felt the twist in his groin that signaled blast-off, she reached up and pinched the head of his penis, successfully suppressing his nearly painful need to climax. Breathing heavily, he now wondered what this vision had in store for him next.

         In the back of his mind, he had the vague suspicion that this wasn’t how this whole genie thing was supposed to go, but then, he’d had no real experience in the matter. For now, he was content with what she’d been doing, having no idea on how to improve her ministrations. He was however, anxious for his own turn on her body, given the beauty of this creature before him.

         Before he could make his move however, she stood and placed her hands on his chest, pushing him back onto his bed. In a moment she was straddling him, her sex pressing directly on his erection, causing him even more sexual tension. That she’d taken complete control over their situation was obvious, but still, he decided to see where she was going to take this tryst.

         She placed him into her, taking advantage of the slickness of her passion, leaned over and bit his nipple, hard! He almost lost his erection, but her movement on his body resurrected it almost immediately.

         This time she rode him to completion, hard! Not that he had any complaints, mind you, but he wondered if she’d left anything in him for another bout. His climax had nearly caused him to pass out from the intensity, unlike anything he’d ever encountered before. He hadn’t taken into account her ‘hunger’ of course, and as she slipped off his shrinking penis, her mouth replaced her vagina as she urged him up to another engagement.

         By the time the evening had turned into morning, Jason was thoroughly worn out, and it would have taken the 'Trumpet Of Resurrection' to raise his painful instrument once more. A lifetime of supremely sexual activity had been condensed into several hours, and he still hadn’t gotten around to requesting the three wishes he knew he’d be entitled to.

         He discovered that the few moments of respite he was allowed were those moments when he could snatch a few crumbs from her sexual banquet for himself, but even those were exquisite beyond imagination. Those moments allowed him a short while to recharge his emotional batteries, although his physical responses were waning fast.

         Finally she rose from the sexual battlefield, and smiling down at him said, “THAT was absolutely delightful, and long overdue.” He watched as she pulled her gown on and re-wrapped her scarf. As she moved towards his front door, he suddenly remembered the wishes.

         Nearly out of breath, he composed himself quickly enough to croak out, “The wishes; what about the wishes?” He already knew that none of his wishes would involve anything sexual at this point, but that still left a lot of possibilities.

         He watched as she stopped, turned and smiled at him. “Ah yes,” she replied. “The wishes. They were all served well this night; for even genies are granted wishes, and tonight it was MY turn!”

H –