“What if I were to pick you, Genie? What if I wished for your love?”
He started to reply. He stopped himself. “You know the answer, Master. It would appear that I loved you, but the love would be only skin deep. If that is what you desire, then so be it, but I sense that is not what you desire.”
“And you, Genie?” I asked. “What do you desire?”
He bowed. “I desire only to make my master happy.” He was still bowing, but his head craned up, eyes locking into mine, glorious butterflies taking wing where once there were bats. “What is it like?”
“What is what like?”
The wink returned. He was still bowed. “You know. With men.” He said it rather raspily. Or at least that’s how I heard it. Or at least that’s how I wanted to hear it. It was the wink that did it.
In any case, a slight blush cre
