Alana’s Magic Lamp

by Sahara Kelly

  Images began to appear, cloudy at first, and then crystallizing into focused clarity.

  Alana gasped as she recognized Hari, tumbled on a large blanket with Pemalina in his arms. They were enjoying one of those sensational Hari-kisses.

  “Should we be watching this?” she asked the Guardian, feeling strangely bereft as she watched Hari’s hand slip under Pemalina’s robes.

  “Sshh…” said the Guardian, hugging her close.

  “Papa, Papa…” A child’s voice broke the silence of the scene, and Hari rose up on one elbow to straighten Pemalina’s skirts.

  “Over here, scamp,” he called.

  Alana’s jaw dropped as a miniature version of Hari dashed into the picture and threw himself onto his father.

  “Where’s your sister?”

  “Wiv Unca Sami…” answered the tot, snuggling into his father’s arms.

  Sami appeared, holding a well-wrapped bundle in one arm and a very-pregnant Debalhi in the other.

  “It is splendid practice for us, Hari—she’s been as good as gold—let us change her, and everything,” said a beaming Sami, as he gently lowered his burden into Pemalina’s arms.

  “Right, just double everything and you’ll have it all down perfectly,” said Hari teasingly.

  “Well, we may have waited a while, but having two at once makes up for it, don’t you think?” He lowered Debalhi carefully into a chaise and sat on the grass next to her feet, absently massaging her ankles and calves as he spoke.

  Pemalina had extricated her little daughter from her blankets and was teasing smiles and gurgles from the baby.

  Alana felt tears prickle her eyes as she watched, an unseen observer to this idyllic scene.

  “Your wish was granted, Alana—Hari and Sami are free to be husbands, fathers— productive members of Anyelan society. In fact, Hari has bought his own vineyard-- already his wines are becoming much prized. Sami has taken over his father-in-law’s rug business and is also doing well. They will live long, happy lives surrounded by the ones they love, thanks to you.”

  Tears ran freely over Alana’s cheeks as she watched the vision fade. She felt absolutely wonderful that she had accomplished so much, and completely shattered that it was over, and she was alone.

  “Don’t cry, love,” soothed the Guardian.

  “Do they—do they remember me?”

  “Not as a person they taught, no. They honor you as the woman who came to Anyela and helped reorganize the genie program. They do not remember your time together. Although, interestingly enough, Hari’s son is named Alan. I have often wondered…”

  “How much time has passed, for heaven’s sake? Have I been gone for years?”

  The Guardian laughed.

  “Time is only a concept, Alana,” he said.

  “Thank you, Stephen Hawking,” she muttered, trying to cover her pain with sarcasm.

  “You have just glimpsed a future timeline in Anyela—it has no reference to your time here in your world.” He stroked a tangle of hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ear.

  “That’s how your genies were able to get that little pot of chocolate next to the Ecstasy Tree. A small time shuffle, and poof. Sex in a pot.”

  “They ratted me out, didn’t they?” she grinned.

  “On the contrary, they’ve done very nicely by setting up a little import business. Genie Candy is making a huge profit.”

  Alana laughed, feeling some of her pain lighten.

  “And what about you, Guardian?” she asked, holding his hand tightly. “What happens to you?”

  “We are not allowed to see our own future, Alana,” he answered gravely. “That violates some of our most important principles. It is our sworn duty to guard the strands of time, not abuse the privilege.”

  “How long can you stay?” she asked, trying not to sound like a whining idiot.

  “Not long,” he answered. “There are many changes that must be dealt with in Anyela. Some are not happy with them—or me for allowing them.”

  “I’m sorry if I got you into trouble.”

  The Guardian’s dark eyes met hers and fire burned in their depths. “I wish I had more time with you, Alana. If I could have anything I asked for, that would be my answer…”

  She gently raised herself and kissed his lips.

  “I shall miss you all—certainly Hari and Sami, but knowing they are happy makes the loss easier to bear. But you…that’s another story.” Her eyes filled with tears as she remembered his passion and his gentleness. “Will I remember anything?”

  The Guardian ran his hands languorously up her thighs and cupped her mound. “Oh yes, Alana, there is much you will remember.” His hand started a soft movement that had her sighing and opening her legs to him.

  “You will remember that you are a deeply passionate woman with beautiful breasts…” His lips tugged on each nipple, making her moan.

  “You will remember that loving yourself and who you are is very important, along with being proud of your strength and accomplishments…” His lips moved down to her navel.

  “You will remember that fantastic sex needs an important ingredient—it needs your heart.”

  His head slid between her thighs and his tongue entered her.

  She thrashed and groaned, held still by the firm grip of his fingers on her buttocks.

  He kept his lips and tongue busy as one hand slipped from her buttock to her cleft and caressed her tightly puckered little anus.

  She gasped with pleasure.

  “You will also find gifts from us,” he mumbled, raising his head and blowing on her hot and swollen clit.

  She nearly shrieked with the pleasure of it.

  “But most of all, you will find love, Alana, very soon…it is your destiny. You have changed more than you could possibly imagine…”

  And with those words, he returned to her pussy and allowed his tongue to bring her to a shaking, trembling, ass-clenching orgasm.

  She collapsed beneath him as he rose above her, smelling of Blue Lotus, sex and sweat. He dropped light kisses onto her eyelids and she slept.

  Epilogue

  The buzzing of an alarm clock woke Alana.

  “Damn—it’s Sunday, what’s the matter with me?” she muttered, reaching for the offending appliance.

  The buzzing continued.

  “Aargh—the doorbell.”

  Staggering out of bed, she grabbed her black silk robe, trying fuzzily to knot the belt around her naked body. Her gold slave bell jingled and slapped her clit—as good a wake up call as any.

  She shrugged and headed for her front door.

  Her feet registered the incredible softness of the beautiful rug beneath her feet— maybe she could get another good deal from that guy who’d come by the store last year. This one was certainly a gem.

  The morning sun sparkled on her favorite antique—her Murano glass Blue Lotus flower, which sat front and center in her display case.

  The doorbell reclaimed her attention.

  Looking through the peephole, she saw a nice chest. A very nice chest, definitely male, and covered in a pale green t-shirt. Hmmm.

  She opened the door without releasing the chain.

  “Hello?”

  Her gaze traveled up to meet a twinkling set of the darkest eyes she’d ever seen. A mop of unruly midnight hair, streaked with silver over the ears, and a tidy moustache and goatee completed the handsome face. His grin was charming enough to melt butter.

  “Hello. Are you Alana West?” His voice was husky with a slight touch of an accent. She couldn’t quite place it.

  “I’m Paul Guardino—I moved into George’s apartment last night, only to find I have no electricity this morning and no number for the utility company. He left a note suggesting that you might be a good person to contact if I needed any help…”

  Alana was staring at him, just enjoying the view.

  Oh, God, he’d stopped talking. She was supposed to reply—what the hell had he been saying
?

  “Um—sure, happy to help out, just a sec…” She pushed the door almost shut and removed the chain.

  “Won’t you come in?”

  “That’s very kind of you. Say…” A slight wrinkle pulled his dark brows together. “Have we ever met before? There’s something awfully familiar about you.” He laughed suddenly, a warm and happy sound. “God, that’s such an awful line. I’m sorry, I really did mean it…”

  Alana grinned back. She couldn’t help it—there was something familiar about this man, something that tickled her innards into doing a tango!

  She closed her eyes for a second as his scent crossed the space between them. A wave of dizziness swept over her, and a flickering image of some kind of blue-flowered tree popped into her mind. Boy, she really had to stop eating cheese curls and cold pizza late at night!

  “I’m about to make coffee, Mr. Guardino. Would you care for a cup?”

  “Thanks, that would be lovely, but I don’t want to disturb you…”

  Too late, thought Alana, waaaay too late.

  And she smiled.

  Meanwhile, seven hundred and twenty-nine years into the future:

  Major Boralle North is contemplating her next assignment—shore leave and participation in the sexuality games on Frallien IV. She’s hesitant to register—the honor of her crew may well rest on her performance, and she doubts if it will be anything near their expectations. To put it bluntly, she is a sexual dud.

  Her wanderings have brought her to a small marketplace, and she spies a little antique table—always fascinated by things from the past, she crosses the street and surveys the articles displayed for customers.

  “I think I may have something you would find interesting, Major,” says a smooth voice from behind her. Turning, she looks directly into a pair of vivid turquoise eyes. They belong to a tall, elegant human with long hair braided tightly at the back of his head, and who is holding out an unusual vessel for her attention—it has one very strangely shaped handle…