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I stare expectantly at Bethany, waiting to hear her sing, but she opens her mouth and no words come out.
At first, I assume this to be part of the performance, but as the words continue to display, and she remains silent, I realize something is amiss.
“Do we have more requirements before the singing can commence?” I ask, and she starts to laugh.
“Yeah, alcohol, because me standing in the middle of the room while you watch is awkward as fuck,” she says with a grin, but I feel the happiness drop from me.
“Should I look the other way?” I ask, a weight forming in my chest that I have made an enjoyable pastime unpleasant.
“No, it’s just the atmosphere isn’t right at the moment,” she says in a comforting voice as she instinctively tries to touch me, her hand stopping short when she remembers she can’t. “Maybe it would help if I dimmed the lights?”
“Like this?” I ask, clicking my fingers and darkening the room.
“Much better. Now I need something I can pretend is a microphone,” she says, glancing around the room and then heading to the bookshelf to snatch up the largest dildo.
“Would you prefer this?” I ask, transforming the dildo into a microphone with a wave of my hand.
She laughs delightedly, then stops suddenly and narrows her beautiful eyes at me.
“Wait a minute. If you can change the way things look, does that mean you could have given me normal clothes this morning instead of letting me go out like somebody escaped from a sex dungeon?”
“My magic cannot extend for long distances and would have faded by the time you reached the sidewalk,” I explain, holding back from telling her that the sight of her in latex made me feel more animal than genie.
“Ok, I’ll let you off,” she says with a slow nod. “But you were nearly in my bad books then, mister.”
“I am glad you will not have to enter me into your terrible book,” I say earnestly, but she just laughs, and then taps the microphone.
“Testing, testing, one, two, three,” she says, in a humorous voice, then hits me with a smile that makes my blue body glitter. “This is a lot better. I feel ready to become Abba now.”
“If truly becoming Abba is what you require, I can go further,” I say, flicking my hand with a flourish and transforming the entire room to mimic the image on the screen.
“Oh, my God!” gasps Bethany, staring down at her maroon velvet one-piece while the brightly colored disco lights beam down onto her. “This is awesome, but I think you’re forgetting something.”
“What?” I ask, looking around the room to identify what doesn’t match.
“You, of course. Why haven’t you got your disco pants on?” she asks, and I feel another ripple of heat spread through me.
I hadn’t so much as considered myself a part of this scene, but she embraces me into all of her moments.
“You are hoping for something like this?” I ask, sweeping my hand up to dress my body in a black shirt with a huge collar, a guitar strapped to my chest, and exchange my usual black locks for a bouffant blonde mullet.
Her hands fly to her face, and she doubles forward, laughing so hard that no sound comes from her mouth.
This feeling of making her happy is addictive. Each laugh fills me with joy and I feel more alive than I have for the entire duration of my existence.
“Are we now ready?” I ask when she is finally able to look at me without spluttering into another fit of giggles.
“We are more than ready to boogie down,” she grins, grabbing the remote and restarting the song from the beginning.
This time she bursts enthusiastically into song and the vivacious sight has me hypnotized.
“Come on,” she says, nudging her elbow toward me and sending a current of sensation through me.
I felt her skin, I am certain of it. It was a mere whisper of a touch before her arm passed through me, but it was soft and warm, and real.
“Don’t stare at me like that or you’re going to make it awkward again,” she says, snapping me out of my head.
“Come on, sing,” she says, and I realize that even without the bind of wishes, I would do whatever this woman wants, so I sway my body in unison with hers, and sing Dancing Queen as loud as I can.
