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.
