My genie from Samara

My genie from Samara

Peter A. Hempel

As a present to myself, after I turned 80, I decided to take a final trip abroad while I still could. I found a tour company that offered senior trips, for people 60+, with an appropriate slow pace, although not always slow enough for me. After all, a few of the people were in their mid-60s and were still going relatively strong, and some of them began to feel very frustrated and out of place with the many of us who were much further along in our journey into our golden years.

I had been well-traveled in my younger days, many trips to Europe, and even one trip to Thailand, China, and Japan. But it’d been at least 25 years since I had been outside the US. My wife had died when I was in my 50s; I dated a bit after that, but all of that had slowly faded away. My wife and I had never had any children, and by now a great many of my former friends had succumbed to a variety of ailments and diseases associated with that much time on this earth. I had enough money from a decent pension to do pretty much anything I wanted, but there really wasn’t much I wanted to do anyway. Turning 80 had been a reminder for me of how little I was doing with whatever time I had left, and so when a random travel brochure arrived in my mailbox, I actually paid attention, and decided what the hell.

The tour operation was geared towards people like me. They took care of all sorts of things. They got my passport renewed, and arranged transportation to the airport. They even sent someone out to help me pack for the trip and to get anything I didn’t have but might need.

There were about 40 of us in all. I wasn’t quite the oldest, there was one couple in their mid-80s, and two widows in their late 80s or possibly more. But there was also a core of decidedly younger people, relatively recent retirees out to add travel adventures to their retirement bucket list.

We flew to Europe first, to visit some places in southern Spain. It was warm and sunny and it was invigorating to be someplace wholly new. Still, I was 80, and I tired easily, and only went along for about half of the activities on any given day.

It was a little disconcerting when, on our third day, we discovered that one of the elderly widows had died in the night. I think the tour people would’ve been happy to simply say she had decided to go home, but someone from the hotel staff had let it slip to one of the other guests, and now we all knew. It was a slightly somber note to add to what was supposed to be a festive journey, but I guess it was a reminder for all of us to do what we could while we could.

The next leg of our trip was to Egypt. We stayed in a hotel outside of Cairo that we had rented exclusively for our group, and took some bus tours to see the pyramids (and let those who were up to it walk around and even try climbing around on them) and the Sphinx. We also set aside a day to visit a local bazaar where we could wander around and look for souvenirs to bring home with us.

Normally, the tour guides were very careful to stay with us at every moment, and I’m sure that they had every intention of keeping us safe from getting ripped off by the local merchants. But there were only two tour guides with us on this visit, and the members of the group almost immediately spread out to an almost perverse degree. Our tour guides were soon occupied with translations and negotiations for some of the members of the group who had already found fascinating – and somewhat questionable – objects they were sure they wanted. Given my generally low level of energy, I seemed unlikely to require all that much attention, so I ended up wandering off on my own.

After a surprisingly short time, it seemed as if I lost sight of all of my fellow tour members. I was wandering down an aisle between stalls loaded with old rugs, tourist trinkets, and random bits and pieces of supposed artifacts. Nothing was really catching my attention until I spotted on one table what I assumed was a traditional oil lamp. Yes, it looked like one of those brass lamps from movie versions of the Arabian Nights. It was definitely not shiny, and not remotely clean, but I picked it up to look at it. The owner of the stand was talking to someone else, trying to sell them a rug, and was not yet paying any attention to me. As I looked at the lamp, well, what would anyone do? I rubbed it against my sleeve.

Of course I hadn’t been expecting anything. At most, the lamp might be a souvenir to bring home with me. But suddenly, I felt this rumbling in the lamp and then some sort of thick smoke began to emerge from the spout. I looked around to see if anyone else was watching this, but suddenly everyone seemed frozen in place, as if the lamp and I were in a place of our own. Sure enough, something began to form out of the smoke. It was…what? Was this a genie? He didn’t look like anything I had seen in those movies. He looked kind of old and run-down and, well, kind of sleazy. He was wearing a black robe and black headdress. He looked like some sort of cross between the other vendors at the market and some kind of thin-mustached used car dealer at a shabby car lot in the states.

As the genie finally took form from the cloud of smoke, he looked around to get his bearings. He saw me, still holding the lamp in my hand. “Congratulations,” the genie said. He had a fairly heavy accent, but at least he spoke English. “You have found the lamp, and you have found me and released me! I thank you with all my heart, and with all my honor.”

I had no idea what to say. I was by no means sure that releasing him was even a good thing to have done. On the other hand, wasn’t I supposed to get three wishes or something?

“You have questions, I can see from your expression,” said the genie. “My name is Achmed, Achmed the trustworthy, and I have been in that lamp since the time of the Crusades. I could tell you the story of how I ended up this way, but it would be a very long story, and at this point it wouldn’t matter to either of us. So let’s just get down to business.

“You probably have read stories of the genie granting you three wishes and all that. That’s not exactly how it works. For one thing, I’m a devout Muslim, and so the wishes I grant have to be in accord with my religious traditions. Also, there have been a lot of budget cuts, and so you only get one wish.”

One wish? I didn’t really need money so I guess my wish would be to be young and healthy again.

“Of course,” Achmed hastily added, “You don’t actually get to make your own wish, I get to offer you a deal. Not a bad deal, if I say so myself.” The wariness I had felt when I first saw him appear went into high gear. “What’s the deal?” I asked, somewhat suspiciously. Actually, very suspiciously.

“Well, if I may be so presumptuous as to guess, I would imagine that you would like to be younger, and if that was combined with an abundance of sex, that would be a pretty good deal. Right?”

He was probably right about that, but still…

“Okay, here’s the deal,” said Achmed. “I can see you’re still suspicious, but it’s really a good deal. It’s just that, as I told you, I’m a devout Muslim, so you have to accept a few conditions you’re not normally used to. Look, I don’t make the rules. The rules are set by a council of Imams, and they are…” I could see he had been about to say something about the limitations they imposed, but he managed to stop himself. “Yes, I was saying, the Imams have spent their lives studying the Koran and are a group of very wise men, and they are very careful about the rules. And praise be to them for that,” he added a bit hastily. Then he went on, “And, sadly, there are budget constraints. As a Muslim, you would normally be eligible for up to four wives, but they only allow me the budget for one. You understand, at times like these, we must all be prepared to make sacrifices.”

I looked at him again. What the hell was this? Yes, I want to be younger, and sex would be a great change of pace, but I sure as hell didn’t trust him.

“Okay, here’s how it works. I give you a beautiful woman who will give you endless, indescribably beautiful and exciting sex, and while you are with her you will grow younger and more virile. The two of you will be almost insatiable sexually, and when you want to take a break, she will cook delicious meals for you and you will have luxurious accommodations including the most comfortable bed you have ever slept in. You will live in a palatial mansion equipped with all the luxuries you can imagine. And it is all yours for as long as you want.”

“So…what’s the catch?” There was something wrong here. Something he was not telling me. “What happens if I say no?”

Achmed’s face suddenly lost its jovial demeanor, and he began to frown darkly. “Look, if you don’t take the deal, I end up back in that damn lamp. And as you can tell, it’s a very old lamp, very cramped, and absolutely no modern amenities, nothing. So, yeah, I’ve got every motivation to come up with a deal that works for you and that you will like.”

The genie paused for a second, then adjusted his expression and got back to his pitch. “Look, just come with me, and see for yourself.”

Suddenly, there was a puff of smoke and both of us were in a palatial room, seated on large red cushions, with lots of luxurious furniture, carpets, and ornate gold decorations everywhere. There was a table in front of us and a tray of baklava appeared, with glasses of wine on the side – or at least on my side.

“I know the wine is not usual here, but since you are not a Muslim, I got a waiver just for you. And as far as food goes, you can have whatever you want at any time, day or night.” Achmed was coming up with everything he could to impress me.

“So, you were saying something about sex?” I asked.

“Absolutely,” the genie said. “And I assure you that the woman I have chosen for you is the most beautiful woman you can imagine. And she will be devoted to pleasing you in every way she can.”

As if on cue, someone walked into the room. I assume it was a woman, but she was wearing a shapeless white robe that reached to her feet, and a veil over her face, and even a separate veil to hide her eyes.

“What the hell?” I asked. “What is this? How do I even know she’s a woman? How do I know she’s attractive?”

Achmed nodded at the woman. At his sign, the woman walked over until she was standing directly in front of me, probably less than two feet from me. She looked over and saw Achmed looking on eagerly. Aside from his wish-granting power, he was just a very creepy guy. She looked disgustedly at him, or at least I think she did, though it was hard to tell while she was wearing her veil. She moved another step forward to bring herself more between us, and turned her body to face me. Then, slowly, she opened the front of her robe, first to her waist, and then completely. Under the robe, of course, she was completely naked. She was doing her best to have the sides of her robe keep her body from the genie’s view, and Achmed was trying to pretend that he wasn’t interested in what was going on. I could tell, however, that she was watching me intently, to see my reaction.

She had, beyond the slightest question, the most amazing body I had ever seen in my life. And there it was, practically in my face, reminding me of a part of life that I had felt was long, long gone. It was kind of odd, seeing her showing herself here, with Achmed watching both of us. But still…

“So, are you convinced?” asked Achmed, obviously not happy with this turn of events. “Alia is astonishingly beautiful. She’s highly educated. And no, she’s not from some harem somewhere. She is, and will be, yours alone. And so long as the two of you are together, she will remain utterly devoted to you.

“I imagine you are already feeling somewhat younger, simply from the sight of her. But when I leave the two of you alone, you will feel the years dropping from you, and you will be more than ready to indulge your every desire and every whim with her.”

“There’s still a catch, isn’t there?” I asked. “What haven’t you told me yet? You know damn well I don’t trust you.”

“Well, there is what I suppose you would call a ‘catch,’ but I assure you it’s a small one,” Achmed said in a reassuring tone. “As I told you, I am a devout Muslim. As is Aliah. And, of course, as are the venerable members of our Council of Imams. The two of you can have as much sex as you want, of whatever kind you want. It will be better sex than you ever could’ve imagined having. Your own personal Arabian Nights. You’ve already seen Aliah’s body, so you know I’m not lying. However, there is one small thing. Her modesty requires that she not reveal her face beyond what you can see through her veils. She will have no problem with satisfying you orally, but she will keep her veil on. Anything you want she will do, except remove her veil. In the meantime, you will have found your youth and your energy and unimaginable sexual pleasure.

“It’s all yours. So long as you stay with her, you will have endless youth, physical bliss, exotic food, and a woman who will be the most complete intellectual companion you have ever had. So, do we have a deal?

“You can, of course, say no, and simply return to your group, and head back to the hotel for your afternoon nap, and at the end of the tour, return to the decline of what’s left of the rest of your life.”

Obviously Achmed was nervous about my decision, but at the same time I could see his contempt for me, and his resentment at having to offer me this whole deal. Me, this contemptible old fool, this total infidel, and here he was having to offer me this outrageously beautiful woman who would never give him a second glance – and all because I picked up an old lamp at the bazaar and happened to rub it against my sleeve? I knew he would much rather be cutting off my head than doing any of this. And I knew he was right. I had done nothing whatsoever worthy of all this. Nothing about me was worthy of this woman. Nothing about me was worthy of anything that he was offering me.

I had had my time, and my chance. The truth is, I hadn’t done all that much with it. How could I now accept something that I had done nothing to deserve, and was completely unworthy of? Alia was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my life, and if she was remotely as intelligent as Achmed had said, she would be the most intelligent woman I had ever been anywhere near. Could I really justify trapping her into a life with me?

When I had first seen Achmed, I had been repulsed by how sleazy he looked. I have no idea what had led to his being imprisoned in that lamp for all those centuries; I suspect someone else it felt about him the way I felt. I understood why he had put together the deal he had. No one would want to be sent back into a lamp again for who knows how long this time. For that, he was quite ready to offer me something I did not remotely deserve, and to trap this extraordinary woman into eternal servitude to me.

Everything about this is absolutely vile. I feel disgusted with myself, with everything about myself. I had allowed Aliah, a beautiful and intelligent woman, to humiliate herself before me. I had allowed all this to continue. To accept Achmed’s offer would be to make me no better than him.

In fact, since he has been understandably working to avoid returning to an unimaginable prison, he has at least had an excuse. I have none. I am where I deserve to be. And Aliah deserves her honor and her freedom, or at least she deserves somebody far better than me.

* * *

I’m feeling pretty exhausted now, and could probably use a nap. But Aliah always knows how to revive me, even when I think I’m done for the night.

© Peter A. Hempel – 2022

3,000 words