Thursday 24 October 2019


by Bec Lewis

a glass of red wine

 Martin Clarke re-read the e-mail, wondering how it had bypassed the spam filter. ‘Donate to Heart’s Desire Retirement Facility, and as a thank-you we’ll make your wish come true! Please be generous.’
            Well, it was different. Most places sent you a free pen or a set of adhesive address labels.
            Who lived at this facility? Aging lamp-less genies? Retired fairy godmothers? Did they really think he’d part with his hard-earned cash so some old biddies could laze around all day? He had all he could wish for, anyway, thanks very much: a million in the bank, a luxury mansion and cars, plenty of friends. Everything, except…
            He typed inside the ‘wish’ box: ‘To be irresistible to women,’ and made his donation. No harm in having a go, he thought. Oh, girls threw themselves at him, of course, but he knew from their glazed looks in the bedroom that they craved his fortune, not his body. A twenty-something stunner wouldn’t normally look twice at a bloated fifty-something like him.
            The front door slammed.
            He rushed into the hall. Three scantily clad beauties stood there, and before he knew what was happening, they’d pushed him gently but firmly through an archway into the antique-strewn sitting room.
            ‘Steady on, ladies. We haven’t been introduced.’ He hoped he didn’t sound as nervous as he felt. ‘How did you all get past the security gate?’ They were a gang of girl-thieves; that was the answer. It couldn’t be that stupid wish thing; he didn’t really believe in that stuff.
            ‘We’ve been sent by Heart’s Desire,’ purred the tallest one, as she pushed him down onto a sofa and began unbuttoning his shirt. She leaned into him, so that her long dark hair tickled his chest. She smelled of vanilla and musk.
            ‘You wished us here,’ said another, stroking his thighs. Martin’s body started to respond. He’d remember this night forever, he thought. He was the luckiest man alive.
            The third girl pressed Martin’s hand against her left breast and began licking his ear. ‘You really are irresistible,’ she whispered.
            He groaned softly, and tipped his head back in pleasure. As he did, he caught a glimpse of the girl’s unusual dentition.
            His last thought, just before feeling the sharp pain in his neck, was that he should probably have donated more than one lousy dollar.

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