Chapter 2: Djinni

Tony Nelson stared as the pink smoke dissipated, leaving behind a woman kneeling in the sand in front of him. “What in the world...”, he began, but then he simply stopped. The woman silently bent down, touched her head to the sand, and then resumed her position kneeling before him. Tony shook his head in disbelief. The woman was possibly the most beautiful female he had ever seen! She was young, perhaps in her early twenties, of medium height, with thick golden blonde hair that shimmered as it cascaded in waves down to the middle of her back. Her heart-shaped face was a vision of loveliness, with high cheek bones, a straight nose, full lips meant for kissing, and eyes of sapphire blue.

Then Tony’s eyes slipped lower and caught his breath as he took in her figure. The young woman’s skin was flawless, a smooth and even golden tan without a hint of blemish. Her neck was perfect, her shoulders were bare, her arms were lithe, her fingers were long and dainty. She wore the sheerest and wispiest of tops, an off-the-shoulder crop top that hid nothing. Her breasts were large and full, with large dark coral areolae and stiffly erect nipples. Looking lower, her stomach was flat and indented deeply by her navel. A transparent skirt hung very low on her hips, and the skirt had several long slits from waist to hem exposing her exquisite legs.

The woman saw Tony looking at her and averted her eyes, looking down at the sand. Tony looked up and down at her slowly. In some ways, the most improbable part was her wardrobe. In addition to the sheer crop top and slit skirt, both in pink, she wore a fez and curly-whirly slippers, also in matching pink. Tony stared and then shook his head. “Who are you and where did you come from?” he asked.

Almost immediately the woman raised her face to meet his and began answering, though Tony couldn’t understand a word of it. It sounded like some of the jibber-jabber he had heard the natives speaking when he had been flying out of Al Udeid in Qatar. Tony had never learned the local lingo, but it sounded Arabic or Iranian or something like that.

Tony shook his head and said, “I have no idea what you are saying.” She just kept jabbering and he smiled and said, “Honey, I sure wish you spoke English, cause I don’t speak whatever you are speaking.”

The young woman immediately stopped speaking. She crossed her arms under her substantial breasts, lifting them enticingly, and then simultaneously blinked-and-nodded. Uncrossing her arms, she bent down and touched her head to the sand a second time and came upright again. “Please, Master, accept my service.”

“You speak English?”

“You wished me to speak English, Master,” she answered.

Tony blinked at that, not quite understanding what had just happened. After a second, he asked, “So, who are you and where did you come from?”

The beautiful blonde replied, “I am the djinni from the bottle, Master.”

Tony blinked again. “You’re a genie from a bottle?”

“Yes, Master.”

Tony shook his head and asked the question twice more and got the same answer before asking, “Okay, so if you’re a genie in a bottle, how did you get here?”

“You opened the bottle and released me, Master.”

“Uh huh. And how did the bottle get here?”

“It washed overboard during a storm,” she replied.

“Right.” Tony scratched his head and then asked the weirdest question yet. “And how did you get in the bottle to begin with?”

“Two-thousand five-hundred and sixty-seven years ago the Grand Vizier of the great king Cyrus imprisoned me in the bottle.”

“The grand vizier of Cyrus the Great put you in a bottle?”

“Yes, Master,” she replied.

“Why?”

“Oh. I was one of the dancing girls in the court and the favorite of his son, Artacyrus, but the Grand Vizier wanted his youngest daughter to wed Artacyrus, so he cast a spell over me and sentenced me to become a djinni.”

“He cast a spell? Like a magician or a wizard or something?”

“Yes, Master.”

Tony shook his head. This was the craziest conversation he had had in years. “Why was the king’s son interested in a dancing girl.”

The djinni smiled. “Dancing girls in the royal court did more than just dance, Master.”

Tony looked at the barely clad figure of the young woman and smiled back. “Stupid question. So, what is your name?”

“Whatever you call me, Master. I am the djinni of the bottle.”

“I guess you just became Jeannie.”

“Yes, Master. Master, why are we sitting in the sun? Aren’t you hot?” she asked.

He gave her a wry smile. “You don’t like the accommodations?” They were sitting under the partial shade from the parachute draped across the lifeboat and some of the hatches buried in the sand. “Excuse me for being rude. “Would you care for some fine dining? We’re a little short of ambrosia and sweets, but we have some excellent MREs.”

“What are MREs?”

Tony crawled over to one of the packs he had pulled from the lifeboat and pulled out a plastic-wrapped pouch. “Meals Ready to Eat. MRE.” He used his knife to open the pouch and showed her.

“Master, this is not proper! You should be in a pavilion suitable for your station!” She crossed her arms again, and then blinked-and-nodded. Instantly, Tony found himself in a luxurious silk pavilion, like something from the Arabian Nights. Oil lamps lit the interior, and a golden tray of dainty treats was on a low table, along with a goblet. In the corner was a large bronze tub. The tent was easily as large as Tony’s house in Cocoa Beach.

“What in the...”

Jeannie gracefully rose to her feet and went to the table, returning with the goblet, which held red wine. She handed it to Tony and then went back to the table and retrieved the tray of dainties. She sank bank down into the thick Persian carpets and held out the tray for him to sample. Tony eyed Jeannie’s body through the sheer fabric of her top and skirt. The girl was simply perfect. He thought Artacyrus had excellent taste.

Tony sampled the tray, tasting excellent caviar, smoked fish, flaky biscuits, and subtly sweet jellies. The wine was one of the finest he had ever tasted, not too tannic and not too sweet, with overtones of fruit and fine flowers. “Thank you. What about you? Don’t you want any?”

“Master, it would not be proper.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Who’s going to know? It’s just the two of us. What’s the worst that can happen? You get turned into a genie?” He smiled at her.

Jeannie smiled back, an act that turned her from beautiful into spectacular. “Thank you, Master.” She reached out and took one of the tiny pastries and bit into it. Tony passed the goblet to her, and she sipped from it. They talked about Artacyrus and the Grand Vizier while finishing off the tray of delicacies and the goblet of wine.

When the meal was over, Jeannie stood up again and held her hand out to Tony. “Master, you need to bathe.” She led him to the bronze tub; it contained warm scented water and beneath it several oil burners kept the water warm.

Tony glanced at the tub and then back at Jeannie. He was still dressed as he had been earlier, barefoot and bare-chested, with the arms of his flight suit tied around his waist. “Uh...”