“Simply Irresistible”
The restaurant was on top of the ferris wheel that was trends in New York dining; at the moment, it was popular enough that the Pope would have to slip a hundred dollar bill to the maitre’d to get a table. When famous people went there, it wasn’t a sign of the restaurant’s fame that they would dine there, but rather a sign of their fame that the restaurant would accept them. It had a name, of course, but that only drifted on the short-term memory. After all, in six months, it would be another establishment’s turn on top.
Mikal walked in with the sort of quiet confidence that is sometimes mistaken by the ignorant for swagger; in fact, it was the exact opposite. Swagger is the sort of thing people have when they lack confidence within, but seek to show it externally; Mikal entered the restaurant secure in the knowledge that he was the most important being in it, and utterly uncaring of the opinions of anyone else present. He wore a suit by Armani, and wore it in such a way that suggested Armani suits were invented for him to wear, and that the rest of us were just allowed to try them on. In point of fact, this was true.
He stepped up to the maitre’d and said, “Table for two, non-smoking...nothing by the window, though. I hate having to look out at the city while I eat. It ruins my appetite.”
“And do you have an appointment, sir?” The maitre’d was not impressed.
“Appointments are for people—” He was interrupted by a shrill bleeping noise coming from his breast pocket. “Hold on. I have to take this.” He reached into his pocket and whipped out a cell phone. “Go.” There was a pause. “Absolutely not—no, I’m not—Beni, interrupt me again and I’ll condemn your soul to the Storm of a Thousand Swords—thank you. No. I’m not doing another lamp contract right now; I just got out of a ten-thousand year contract, and I’m not interested.—I don’t care what they’re offering.—That much?—That many?—Let me consider it, then. But five hundred years is the most I can commit this time around, Beni. We’ve got serious backers for that traveling shop in 2543, and I don’t want to lose them.—Look, it’s going to have to wait; I’ve got a client follow-up to do, here, and I’d like to get a seat before she arrives.—OK, love to the spawn. Buh-bye.” He closed the phone, and smiled apologetically at the maitre’d. “Sorry,” he said. “Agents. You know how it is.”
The maitre’d shook his head with what was probably meant to be a sympathetic reaction, but he simply didn’t have the knack. “No, sir. I am afraid I only deal with the restaurant; that occupies quite enough of my time. For you see, sir, we are entirely booked up. I cannot give you a table.”
Mikal pointed. “That one’s free.”
The maitre’d followed his gaze. “There are two people sitting there, sir.”
Mikal narrowed his eyes, and there was a faint, but discernible mist that flowed from his outstretched finger. It swirled around the couple, who instantly vanished. “I see it as empty.”
The maitre’d blinked and nodded, his eyes faintly glazing over for a moment. “You are correct, sir. But there are other people waiting—”
Mikal smiled. “But I was here first. Check the list.”
The maitre’d looked down, just as the ink on the waiting list seemed to crawl beneath his gaze. “Indeed, sir, I apologize once again. A table for two, immediately. And your companion?”
“She should be along momentarily. I’ll just sit down to order, and when she gets here, you can direct me to her.”
“What will she be looking like, sir?”
“You’ll know her. She makes quite an impression.”
He had just completed his order (roasted dodo breasts, passenger pigeon sauteed in brandy, and a bottle of wine that had never existed) when Susan came through the door. She was small, slight, and most definitely not stacked; perhaps a little mousy, but charming enough in an Audrey Hepburn sort of way. And so it was interesting to watch; as she walked through the room, an observer from somewhere around the area of the chandelier would observe a fascinating ripple effect as every head turned to face her, every eye gravitated towards her as though on swivels, and every single person in the room became suddenly aroused. (The chandelier observer probably wouldn’t have noticed that last one, except in the cases of a few exceptionally well-endowed men.) She stepped up to the maitre’d, who surreptitiously crumpled up his list and threw it away.
“Would you like a table, madam? Or perhaps two? Or, if you would like to speak to the owner, I could try to convince him to give you the entire restaurant. It would be an honor to work for you. I would need no pay; simply the chance to—”
Susan smiled. Three men and two women, including the maitre’d, had orgasms. “No, dear boy. No thank you; I’m really just here to meet someone. In fact, there he is over there.” She gestured towards Mikal’s table. “Thank you for your help, though; if you’d like to fuck anyone in the room while I’m here, just tell them I said it was all right.”
The maitre’d blushed. “Thank you, madam, but I am certain I would just imagine them to be you. Would you like me to carry you to your table? I would hate for you to have to strain anything.”
“No, I do prefer walking. Keeps me trim.”
“Sensible and health-conscious.” He watched as she walked over to the table without even noticing the stain of semen seeping through the fabric of his pants. Later, he would have them framed.
Susan reached the table just as an even half-dozen men were fighting over who would pull her chair out for her. Since there was no clear victor, she did the honors herself, neatly sitting across from Mikal. For a moment, she was silent.
“I have to admit,” she said at last, “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you again.”
Mikal smirked. “I always do a one-year checkup on my clients. It’s good business practice; helps keep away those nasty rumors. You’d be amazed at the sort of stuff business rivals can put up on you in the field of wish-granting. Anything I can do to help generate positive word of mouth is worth my time.”
Susan started to respond, when a waiter stepped up. “Can I take your order, madam? Perhaps give you my tip money? I can perform oral sex on you, if you’d like. My wife says I’m very talented.”
Susan looked over at Mikal, with an ‘I get this all the time’ expression on her face. “Really, I believe that the gentleman I’m with has already ordered...but after you bring the food, you can crawl under the table and suck my toes until we’re ready for dessert.”
The waiter straightened up. “Yes, ma’am!” he said, departing to the kitchens.
Susan sighed. “Charming boy,” she said. “If I hadn’t already been serviced by my chauffeur in the parking lot, I’d probably have taken him up on it.” She blushed slightly. “That was why I was late, by the way; dreadfully sorry. I try to give Allan at least one chance to put his head between my thighs each day, no matter how tired I am; otherwise, he’s just no good to anyone.”
Mikal wasn’t startled; rather, he seemed amused at the whole notion. “I see you’ve gotten used to your new lifestyle fairly well, then. That takes care of a few questions.”
“Well, I won’t deny that it does get a bit exhausting sometimes. I mean, it’s rare that I get any privacy at all in public—”
She was interrupted by an elderly man in a finely tailored suit (although, needless to say, he didn’t wear it as well as Mikal.) He coughed slightly and said, “Ma’am, I couldn’t help but notice y’all over here, and I was wondering if you were single? I’m a wealthy man, and if you’d like, I could make you the happiest gal on earth.”
Susan put her hand to her mouth in mock embarrassment. “Why, sir,” she said, “I’m afraid I’m just not interested in marriage right now! But if you want to make me happy, you could consider donating...how much money do you have?”
“I’m worth five hundred billion dollars right now, ma’am.”
She tapped him on the shoulder coquettishly. “Aren’t you just a busy little beaver? I tell you what—you donate a hundred billion dollars of that to AIDS research and you can have the satisfaction of knowing I’m happy with you.”
The old man walked away, a smile on his face (and a pup tent in his pants.) She turned back to Mikal. “You see what I mean about the privacy? It’s always something.”
“I admired how you handled him.”
“Oh, I always try to give something back. Although I must say, I’m glad that I used one of my wishes on an immunity to STD’s...when I first got into this, I was putting a different cock in me every day!”
“But not anymore?”
“Oh, I’m down to six or seven committed partners now—” she giggled—“plus a little quickie with a stranger when the mood strikes me. Regular old homebody, that’s me!”
“And do you miss the way you were? Would you prefer to have it all back?”
“Have what back? My ratty little secretary’s job? A boss who didn’t even know my name? Oh, no, honey. I’m loving every minute of being the most fascinating woman in the room.” A cloud passed across her face. “Why? Are you here to take it all back?”
Mikal shook his head. “Not unless you want me to.”
“I could, then? I thought that wishes were, you know...un-revokable.”
“It’s ‘irrevocable’, miss,” a man said as he came up to the table. “Um...I was wondering, would you be interested in having sex with me and my wife? It’d be a real honor.”
Susan looked at his crotch. “Hmm,” she said. “A little hard to tell with all that fabric in the way—could you just drop your pants for me?” After he obliged, she took his cock into her hands. “Nice size, good heft...nice heavy balls, too. Where’s your wife?”
The man pointed to a stunning blonde two tables over. Susan looked at her appraisingly. “It does sound tempting—I tell you what. You start fucking her on the table now, and if I have time, I’ll join in!” She gave his cock a quick peck. “But don’t cum until I get there!”
The man smiled rapturously. “Oh, thank you, miss! Thank you so much!” He ran back and pulled his wife’s dress down, revealing a pair of fantastic tits.
“Bisexual now, are we?” asked Mikal as the food arrived shortly thereafter.
“Well, I do dabble,” Susan said as the waiter crawled under the table and pulled off her shoes. “At first I tried to say no, but the girls in the typing pool looked at me with those sad little puppy-dog eyes, and I just had to give them the chance to tongue my asshole at least once!” She shivered sensuously in her chair. “Feet only, dear,” she whispered down to the waiter. “Don’t be naughty.” Then she turned her attention back to Mikal. “I’m sorry, you were saying about the wishes.”
Mikal nodded. “As I was saying, all my wishes are fully guaranteed, with an immediate return if unsatisfied. Certainly, I try to work with the clients in cases of confusing or unclear wording—for example,” he chuckled, “there was the gentleman in Alabama who wished to be ‘hung like a black man’. Certainly a poor choice of phrasing there, but I managed to reverse it before his windpipe was completely crushed, and with no harm done.” He thought for a moment. “Well, not much harm.”
Susan smiled. “Well, I never!” she said. “You, sir, are a closet moralist!”
Mikal waggled his fingers. “Perhaps a little. I don’t seem to notice you doing undue harm.”
“Well,” Susan said conspiratorially, “I did do a little experimenting early on. Asked my boss to slit his wrists for me.”
“And did he?”
“Almost—I didn’t have the heart, poor dear. Even though he’d been so rude to me, I just couldn’t see him do anything wrong.” She laughed. “Perhaps everyone should get to experience absolute power; it’s very good for your moral sensibilities.”
Mikal waggled his eyebrows. “It’s an idea I’ve considered,” he said. “But I’ve just got too much work to do—I thought I’d be able to get rid of some of the backlog once I was out of the lamp, but I’m still committed on several rings and wands. And I never realized how much office space that lamp had—my apartment is nowhere near as good.”
“Well, if you’re ever in need of a little relaxation, you can feel free to stop by the mansion; I’ve got a wonderful masseuse in there, and Pierre is an excellent cook.”
Mikal held up a hand. “You’re kind, but I only have a physical body when I need to. In any event, I can put you down as a satisfied customer?”
“Oh, most definitely.” She looked across. “Oh, dear. That little twosome is developing into a full-blown orgy over there—I should probably go join in, if only to keep order. Thanks for the wishes!”
Mikal nodded, standing up and walking away. Behind him, he could hear the moans of passion beginning to escalate, and he smiled to himself. Another job well done, he thought as he discorporated.
Now, just ten billion more, and I’ll finally be free...