Granted. - Sex Stories

Granted.

... labeled this booth 'The Haunted Booth.' Anyone who sat here said they got strange feelings and their drinks kept disappearing. Some of the women said that they felt a little like something was trying to put the make on them, but no one could explain what was happening. Then Jack started talking to "his friend" and I changed the sign. Jack's gone. Should I put your name on the sign?" "Not yet," I answered, "but the night is young." After Walt went back to the bar, I turned back to Julan and asked, "So, what's the deal?" "It is really simple. Believe me, I have had a LOT of time to think about this. All you have to do is be willing to take over my wish granting powers. I retain all of my other powers, but having changed status I am a different Jinn, so Gazoom's curse is broken and I will no longer be bound to the metal in the bar rail. It's a win-win situation. I'll be free, and you get to grant wishes to people around you." "But do I end up bound to the brass rail like you were? There has to be a down side to this." "No, it doesn't work that way... I'm certain it doesn't.... OK, I'm pretty sure it doesn't. But just in case there is something that we aren't thinking of, we can do a trial run for say... a week. You take over my wish granting powers for seven days. If it works out, we make it permanent. If it doesn't, we investigate other options. What have you got to lose?" "My sanity, for one thing," I replied. "But I think I have already lost most of that." Glancing down at ...

... my watch I yelped, "And my girlfriend if I don't get home soon." I paid my tab and ran down the block to the Metro station. A twenty minute ride and a short walk took me to my apartment. I was desperately trying to think of what I would tell Sandy when I opened the door to find that the apartment was still empty. She was running later than I was. Sandy and I have been living together for about three years. She is a lawyer and has a much, much better job than me, but because of being in a supervisory position, she often has to work late with little notice. I checked the answering machine and found her message saying she would be late and asking me to start something for supper. A second message, in which she sounded very frustrated and upset, indicated that she was going to have to redo an important document that was needed for tomorrow and would be at least another half-hour. I was still checking what was on the shelves in the pantry when she came through the front door. From her appearance, her day had been at least as bad as mine. "I am so tired of being responsible for others," she said as she set her briefcase on the table by the door. Then she added, "Especially idiots who can't remember simple instructions or get the wording right on simple, but important, documents." She turned to face me and continued, "Growing up, I always dreamed of being master of my own life." After a deep sigh, she added, "Now, I am. But making decisions for others and telling others exactly what ...