Page 5 of Rubbing One Out

Chapter 3

The tinkling of bells nudged Ben awake from a deep sleep. He snuffled into his pillow, stretched his legs beneath the duvet, which was a little awkward as Tess was lumbered on top, and closed his eyes.

“Bloody wind chimes,” he mumbled. “Need to move them tomorrow.” He’d no sooner found a comfy spot when the bells rang again. It didn’t sound like the usual tinkling. Ben rousted himself once again and listened. It seemed as if the chimes were sounding from inside the house. To his knowledge, he had no bell instruments or gadgets. Perhaps it was his mobile. He’d probably left it next to his armchair in the lounge, and something was chiming. Maybe it was a Facebook or Instagram message.

The clock on his bedside table read three a.m. He thumped his pillow and settled down again. Tess hadn’t even stirred, and continued to snore softly.

No sooner had he gotten comfortable, the bells went again. Not once, not twice, but three times.

“Shit,” he swore as he got out of bed, starkers. “I leave my phone away from the bedroom for a reason. What twat is shoving his shit on Facebook at this time of the morning?”

It was Saturday, and he’d been looking forward to a lie-in, followed by making himself a carb-laden English breakfast.

Growling under his breath, he stormed through to the lounge and saw his phone lying innocently on the side of the couch. Ben picked it up, switched it off, and threw it back down.

As he started back to bed, the bells rang again. Ben stopped. He wasn’t afraid to admit a cold sliver of something unwelcome slid down his spine. He’d seen those films where you disconnected the telly, yet it still went on showing static, and then creepy voices spoke before everything literally went to hell.

He cleared his throat quietly and stood, waiting to see where the sound was coming from. After a few seconds, it went again. It seemed to be coming from the cabinet in the dining room. Ben took a deep breath and sidled over to it. All he had on the shelves were some books, a box of old chocolates with all the caramels remaining—he wasn’t a fan of those—some tattered textbooks from university, a roll of chewing gum, a plaque someone had given him of a cute koala saying, “I have the koalifications,” and the brass lamp he’d found at the antiques store. Nothing bell- or tinkly-like at all.

He bent down closer to listen, and as he did, something warm and fragrant blew into his ear. He jerked back, heart beating like thunder. “What the fuck?” The air smelt faintly of incense, conjuring up vague thoughts of Arabian nights and a warm desert.

Ben wasn’t a fanciful man, and that he saw camels and palm trees in his head was unsettling, even creepy.

A thin tendril of what looked like smoke emanated from the spout of the brass lamp. Ben swallowed and reached out to pick it up. Perhaps there’d been a remnant of something smoky trapped inside when he’d bought it, and it was only now expelling, he reasoned. He couldn’t think of any other cause for the object to be smoking.

The brass lamp was warm to the touch and seemed to glow faintly. Ben reached out one trembling finger and touched the side of it. Where could the heat be coming from? Feeling a little braver, he rubbed the side of the lamp gently, then increased the pressure.

The air around him deadened and his ears popped with a strange sensation. It felt like he was on an aeroplane, taking off. Ben clicked his jaw twice to relieve the pressure. As he did, the brass lamp grew scalding hot, and he dropped it to the floor.

“Motherfucker,” he exclaimed as the tingle in his fingers intensified. “The bloody thing is trying to set me on fire.” He sucked his index finger then shrieked in terror when a voice behind him said in amusement, “I thought I was the one granting the wishes. Instead, I get my very own wet dream.”

Ben was too busy hyperventilating to register the sultry tone of whatever—whoever was behind him. He was afraid to turn around in case something with a pronged tail and horns stood there.

“Who the fuck are you?” he managed at last, his bare arse still in full view of the stranger. “What are you doing in my house?”

There was a soft chuckle. “Turn around so I can see if the front matches the back. If it does, I’ll be one happy Djinn.”

“Your name’s Jim?” Ben asked in confusion. “You don’t sound like a Jim.” The voice sounded male, but had a faint accent, softly Middle Eastern.

Whoever/whatever it was sighed in exasperation. “Djinn, you fool. As in genie? We prefer the word Djinn. Modern folk take all the fun out of the old words.”

I must be dreaming.Any minute now I’ll wake up.

Ben turned slowly, his hand picking up a heavy textbook in case he needed a weapon. When he saw who stood before him, his jaw dropped.

A young man, probably in his late twenties, stood staring at him in amusement. He was bare-chested and smooth—Ben couldn’t help but notice a pair of pierced nipples—and a tight pair of black silky trousers, which left little to the imagination. His arms were tattooed, and a strange chain bracelet stretched from a band around his sexy bicep to a leather band around his wrist. His hair was dark burgundy, blended with lighter streaks, and was cut in stylish swathes, which swung around his fine-boned cheeks.

Oh my God, Ben thought when his eyes lit on the man’s crotch. He has a lot to be proud of. That body. Those eyes. What colour are they? Purple? No. More incredible than that. And he’s wearing kohl. Fuck, it looks hot. Wait. What the hell is he doing here should be the question. Focus.

The sublime being before him raised one perfect eyebrow. “Hmm, I like what I see. You certainly have promise. I can tell you’re not immune to my charms.” The man—if that’s what he was—winked at Ben and gestured to Ben’s groin. Ben looked down and felt his face erupt in flames.

“Fuck, I’m naked. I forgot. This isn’t for you, whatever you are. This is what we call a morning glory, you know, when you’re rudely woken up by strangers coming into your house and don’t have a chance to, like, get rid of it.”

The person—Ben still wasn’t sure whether he was dreaming or hallucinating—pursed a pair of pouty, full pink lips. “Hmm. If you say so.” He grinned, showing even white teeth, and despite his fear, Ben swooned. Goddamn, the man is gorgeous.

“I’m dreaming, aren’t I?” He nodded, confident he was right. “Yep. This is certainly a dream. A good one, of course. I mean, you’re someone I’d fantasize about in a dream, so that’s always a good sign.” Relief swelled through his chest. “I’m going to go back to bed now. I’ll probably jerk off, so don’t take offence.” He laughed uncertainly. “Right, this is me, going back to bed.”

He turned away from the apparition and strode back to his bedroom. Once he got there, he climbed into bed, muttered at Tess for not doing her bodyguard duty, pulled the covers up to his chin, and closed his eyes.