One wish? I only get one wish?! I thought you get three."
"Yeah, put a sock in it kid," the genie replied. "Times are tough, and the elemental union renegotiated our deal."
Pete thought for a bit. World peace. A million dollars. All these things flashed through his mind, and followed by all the fiction of wishes leading to unintended consequences.
"Come on, kid. Tick tock."
Pete looked over at his bed, and then inspiration struck. Sure! Keep it totally awesome, but not too ambitious. He reached under the mattress, and pulled out his favorite.
Playboy. May 1962. Brigitte Bardot. Pete snuck it from his dad's stash about two years ago. Its well worn pages and creases felt so familiar, as he flipped open to the centerfold. Her tall, lithe body glimmered under his bedroom lamp. Pete had memorized very taught curve and dimple on her body. He had long imagined a raucous night of exploring her body as she explored his. He knew her image like the back of his hand. Well, maybe the palm.
"I want to make love to her all night long, no more, no less."
The genie smirks. "OK, kid. Suit yourself."
