Granted. - Sex Stories

Granted.

... afternoon at three o'clock, Jack would come walking in the front door and go directly to "his" booth where he would stay until closing. During that time he would order four or five or even six rounds of drinks for himself and "his friend." Jack would sit there all night sipping his beer and talking to the empty seat across from him. When he finished his beer, he would evidently switch glasses with his invisible friend, because both glasses were always empty when Jack called for another round. Above the booth was a big sign that said "Reserved for Crazy Jack Thompson and Friend." No one else was ever allowed to sit there. I normally wouldn't have even thought about trying it, but Crazy Jack passed away last week - most likely from the toll that years of heavy drinking had taken on his body. He wasn't going to be using his booth tonight, so I did. The place got suddenly quiet and everyone turned to look at me as I slid into the booth, but when I yelled over to Walt at the bar, "Brink me a dark ale, please," he merely filled two glasses and carried them over to where I was sitting. "I only ordered one... for now," I said as he brought the tray. He replied, "If you sit in Jack's booth, you always get a double order." Then he laughed a deep, rumbling laugh and added, "Trust me, you'll need it." I reached for my drink, but almost dropped it halfway to my mouth. The other glass sitting on the table was now almost one-fourth empty. "What the hell?" I said aloud as I looked around. ...

... I took a deep draw on my ale. When I set my glass back down, I could see that the other glass was now half empty. "I wish to hell I knew what was going on," I muttered to myself. A soft voice said, "Wish granted," and suddenly there was another person sitting in the booth across from me. Maybe "person" isn't quite the correct word. He was human shaped, about my size, with black hair and a closely trimmed black mustache which blended into a goatee. He was very strangely dressed in a bright blue vest over his naked chest and very loose, deep purple pantaloon pants. What was really unusual about him, however, was that he was vaguely green in color and more or less transparent. He put his hands around the glass in front of him and said, "Not quite as good as ancient Sumerian beer, but dark ale is much better than that pale piss that Jack liked." "Jack could see you?" I asked, dribbling ale on the table as I spoke. "Of course," he replied with a laugh. "Crazy people often see what sane people refuse to see." He smiled at me and continued, "Jack liked having someone to talk to, and I liked having a regular source of beer." He shrugged, "It was good while it lasted." "Who... what are you?" I sputtered. "And why are you here?" "My name is Julan." he replied. "I am a Jinn. I think your culture calls me a 'Genie,' but the proper term is Jinn." "You mean like a Genie in a bottle kind of Genie? ... a rub the bottle and get three wishes kind of Genie?" "Actually you mean a lamp, not a ...