said; I am in your debt. "
There was firm insistence in her tone. I took a quick glance around and didn't see any cameras pointed at me, but, then, cameras were always hidden on those insipid TV shows.
If she wasn't a hooker, maybe she was a con artist? Go somewhere to “talk", then have someone burst in claiming to be a husband and try to shake me down? Surely she could see I wasn't particularly rich.
I asked, “Exactly what am I supposed to have done for you?"
She lowered her eyes and said, “I think that would be better discussed in private."
Uh, huh. Ducking a bit to look through the windows, I saw she had no purse. Flat pockets on her sleek jacket. No keys or pocketbook evident. Well-dressed otherwise, but away from home without a purse? Nope. Not bloody likely.
Shaking my head slightly, I said, “Like I said, ma'am, I don't know you. Sorry.” With a last glance at her lovely face, I added, “And I really kind of mean that. Goodbye."
I opened my car door and got in, then started the car and zapped all the electric windows down halfway to let the heat out of the car until the air-conditioning could get up to speed. She tried the passenger door handle, but the door was locked.
Her hand reaching in to pull the door's lock knob up made me put the car in gear, but she didn't pull her arm out of the window. I started backing up. She still didn't pull her arm out. Instead, her arm seemed to turn into a colorful shadow of itself. The car's dashboard and windshield backed through her arm until her arm was on the outside of the windshield, apparently reaching through the hood of the car.
I stopped the car and stared in total disbelief as she grinningly moved her shadowy arm and hand back through the windshield and dashboard. When I looked at the woman beyond the shadowy arm, the rest of her also blurred slightly and she simply moved through the closed car door to take a seat in my car. As I sat wondering if I'd really seen what she'd done, she said, “We may leave now."
Staring at her for a moment, I quietly asked, “How the hell did you do that?"
"That would be better discussed in private. Could we please leave this place now?"
"We aren't going anydamnwhere until I know who you are—and what you are—and why you want me to believe you owe me anything."
A Ford honked at us and I let my car drift back into the parking space. The Ford driver swore at us as he drove by, obviously pissed that we hadn't left the space.
Looking at the woman, I said, “So, what's your story, lady?"
"You wish to talk here, in your vehicle?"
"No, I don't wish it. I demand it. At first I thought you might have me confused with someone else. Then I thought you might be a hooker. Now I don't know what the hell to think."
"What is a hooker?"
Huh? Who speaks English and doesn't know what a hooker is? But her question sounded completely genuine.
"Jesus, lady, where are you from?"
She shook her head slightly and seemed absolutely serious as she said, “I'm not allowed to tell you that."
My hands rose in an ‘oh, of course not!’ gesture of frustration and slapped the steering wheel. The woman startled and her gaze turned to a rather stark glare.
"Sorry,” I said. “I didn't mean to scare you. In fact, it never even occurred to me that I could scare someone who can reach through a car hood. How the hell did you do that? No, wait. First tell me your name. I'm Ed."
"Ed,” she repeated carefully. “I'm ... Jaline."
"You don't sound too sure about that."
Less tentatively, she said, “That name will do. I am a Jinn."
"A Jinn. You mean a genie?"
With one eyebrow raised at me, she repeated, “A Jinn ."
"Uh, huh. But you know what a genie is, right?"
"Yes. It's a mistranslation of Jinn."
Looking her over again, I said, “Well, by God, you looked magical enough to me even before you sat down through a closed car door.” Meeting her gaze, I said, “But I'm not a big believer in magic. I believe even less in wishing for
There was firm insistence in her tone. I took a quick glance around and didn't see any cameras pointed at me, but, then, cameras were always hidden on those insipid TV shows.
If she wasn't a hooker, maybe she was a con artist? Go somewhere to “talk", then have someone burst in claiming to be a husband and try to shake me down? Surely she could see I wasn't particularly rich.
I asked, “Exactly what am I supposed to have done for you?"
She lowered her eyes and said, “I think that would be better discussed in private."
Uh, huh. Ducking a bit to look through the windows, I saw she had no purse. Flat pockets on her sleek jacket. No keys or pocketbook evident. Well-dressed otherwise, but away from home without a purse? Nope. Not bloody likely.
Shaking my head slightly, I said, “Like I said, ma'am, I don't know you. Sorry.” With a last glance at her lovely face, I added, “And I really kind of mean that. Goodbye."
I opened my car door and got in, then started the car and zapped all the electric windows down halfway to let the heat out of the car until the air-conditioning could get up to speed. She tried the passenger door handle, but the door was locked.
Her hand reaching in to pull the door's lock knob up made me put the car in gear, but she didn't pull her arm out of the window. I started backing up. She still didn't pull her arm out. Instead, her arm seemed to turn into a colorful shadow of itself. The car's dashboard and windshield backed through her arm until her arm was on the outside of the windshield, apparently reaching through the hood of the car.
I stopped the car and stared in total disbelief as she grinningly moved her shadowy arm and hand back through the windshield and dashboard. When I looked at the woman beyond the shadowy arm, the rest of her also blurred slightly and she simply moved through the closed car door to take a seat in my car. As I sat wondering if I'd really seen what she'd done, she said, “We may leave now."
Staring at her for a moment, I quietly asked, “How the hell did you do that?"
"That would be better discussed in private. Could we please leave this place now?"
"We aren't going anydamnwhere until I know who you are—and what you are—and why you want me to believe you owe me anything."
A Ford honked at us and I let my car drift back into the parking space. The Ford driver swore at us as he drove by, obviously pissed that we hadn't left the space.
Looking at the woman, I said, “So, what's your story, lady?"
"You wish to talk here, in your vehicle?"
"No, I don't wish it. I demand it. At first I thought you might have me confused with someone else. Then I thought you might be a hooker. Now I don't know what the hell to think."
"What is a hooker?"
Huh? Who speaks English and doesn't know what a hooker is? But her question sounded completely genuine.
"Jesus, lady, where are you from?"
She shook her head slightly and seemed absolutely serious as she said, “I'm not allowed to tell you that."
My hands rose in an ‘oh, of course not!’ gesture of frustration and slapped the steering wheel. The woman startled and her gaze turned to a rather stark glare.
"Sorry,” I said. “I didn't mean to scare you. In fact, it never even occurred to me that I could scare someone who can reach through a car hood. How the hell did you do that? No, wait. First tell me your name. I'm Ed."
"Ed,” she repeated carefully. “I'm ... Jaline."
"You don't sound too sure about that."
Less tentatively, she said, “That name will do. I am a Jinn."
"A Jinn. You mean a genie?"
With one eyebrow raised at me, she repeated, “A Jinn ."
"Uh, huh. But you know what a genie is, right?"
"Yes. It's a mistranslation of Jinn."
Looking her over again, I said, “Well, by God, you looked magical enough to me even before you sat down through a closed car door.” Meeting her gaze, I said, “But I'm not a big believer in magic. I believe even less in wishing for
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