Open Sesame

By: Hank Horne
(© 2018 by the author)

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

HHorne@tickiestories.us

Chapter 3

Maji and I were driving south on Highway 4, approaching Maydan Saray, when I got a glimpse of someone in our rear passenger seat.  I turned around and saw Arman and Jamal sitting there, wearing T-shirts, short shorts and sandals.  Each had a ‘third eye’ peeking out from under the leg of the shorts – which were much too short to hide anything they possessed.

“What are you two doing?” I asked, surprised at their appearance.

“Enjoying the ride and the views.”

“What did you think we were doing, fucking on your back seat?”

‘That must be Jamal, with the “smart” remarks,’ I thought to myself.

“Won’t people see you as we go through town?” I asked in amazement.

“No,” replied Arman.  “Only the two of you can see or hear us. We are your jinn and only you will be granted that privilege as humans without your permission.”

“Jamal, for some reason, you look very familiar to me.  Would I have seen you somewhere before?” I asked.

“I don’t know why, master.  I have been in my ring for maybe a thousand years.”

“This is going to bug me until I think of where I’ve seen you.”

“Once I heard of a man in Persia who looked like me.  People said he was so handsome that he was irresistible to both women and men alike,” Jamal replied.

“I can understand that!” Arman interjected.  “It’s why I choose to look like us.”

I was still puzzled where I had seen this smokin’ hot hunk before.

“Well, since we are all here and no one can hear us, let’s talk about our future.  Maji, I’d like to toss an idea out to get your thoughts about it and the jinn’s thoughts on how they can help us.”

“Go for it, man!  This is as good a time as any.”

“My assignment here is almost over and I’ll be sent back to the States for a break.  I should be getting a million U.S. dollars tomorrow from that asshole Septis, and every day after that.  The money I get while I’m still here I’ll give to you to deposit in a bank here, in your and your family’s names.  I got plenty coming later, so this should help all your family, including those up in Halabjah.  Consider it my way of expressing my appreciation for all they’ve done for me.  I feel like they are my family too.”

“No way, José!” Maji objected.

“Your family couldn’t use the money?”

“Well, sure, but all at once would look suspicious to the authorities.”

“Okay. What say about five hundred a month for the next few years for each member of your family?”

“That might be believable,” Maji agreed.

“Next, when my new assignment comes through in DC, I’ll insist that the network reassign you to DC as my cameraman.”

“You can do that?” Maji asked, amazed.

“I’ll tell Witherspoon that we work so well together that I want you to go back with me.  Let him think what he wants to.  We’ll get a formal request to take to the American Embassy for a visa.  They’ll have a month to work on it.  Or I’ll have these two jinn whisk you out of this part of the world, sight unseen! 

“Hey, keep your eyes on the road!”

The jinn just sat in the back smiling and nodding their agreement.

By the time we got back to Bagdad, the jinn had disappeared, even from us, and I had gone over my thoughts of how I’d like to see our future grow together.

Monday morning, I awoke to find one million dollars, in real dollar bills, stacked in my room.  That damned Septis was sure to find a way to make me regret my third wish.  I phoned Maji and told him I needed him at the hotel immediately.  Then I called for Jamil to help me do something with this money.  He stood there laughing at me, and I was beginning to get pissed. 

“Hide all this money someway!  I can’t have this just sitting around here!  Just hide it for now so I can think of something to do with it!”

Soon Maji knocked on the door with his “shave and a haircut” pattern.  I let him in as he asked, “What’s going on here?” 

“Just look around the room,” I replied.

“What?  I don’t see anything different.”

I looked around also and realized the money was gone.  Jamal just stood there grinning and his cock flopping up and down.   I explained to Maji what was going on, and he started laughing too.

“It’s not funny!  I’ve got to figure some way to get this in a Swiss bank. 

“So, go to Switzerland and open an account with the first million, then you can add to it daily for the next million years,” Maji offered.

“Like that’s just a snap of the fingers.”

“It is for me,” Jamal interjected.

A Chinese gong went off in my head!  Of course.  Why have a jinni working for you if you don’t use his abilities? 

I picked up the phone and called the office.  Jeff Witherspoon, our producer answered.

“Jeff, it’s Grant.  Something has come up and I’ve got to take care of some things back home.  My house-sitter Skyped me and I need some personal leave time to work out a few problems.  Maji will be in as usual. 

“Thanks, Jeff.  I’ll be ready to go tomorrow morning.  I really appreciate this.  Bye.

“Okay, that’s taken care of.  Maji, I’ll talk with you later.  Jamal, I need some international businessmen’s current business clothing; Everett Hall designer suit, white shirt with ruby and diamond cuff links, tie with some ruby-red in it, socks, and dress shoes.  I’ll also need you to swap the million dollars into the largest denomination American bills available – five-hundred-dollar bills, thousand-dollar bills, whatever is legal to have today.  You can handle that, can’t you.”

“As you said, Master – a snap of the fingers.”

A complete Everett Hall designer business outfit, which would have cost me a couple thousand dollars, appeared in Jamal’s one hand and a black leather attaché case with my initials and a combination lock in his other hand. 

“Suit, perfectly tailored for your sexy body, and ten thousand United States of America one-hundred-dollar bills in the case.  Will there be anything else you require now, sir?”

“I’ll whistle ‘Dixie’ when I’m ready for your cock up my ass!”

“Obviously, I’ll be ready when you are,” he replied with a smirk as his twelve inches of magic wand started nodding up and down, then shaking side to side, then in a circle and finally in a figure 8. 

“Ah ha!” I commented, “The infinity sign.  Just keep that pattern going until I finish my shower!” 

Jamal’s big brown eyes opened even wider, not believing his ears.  “Yes, Master,” he said, accepting my command.

“Come in the bathroom with me so I can be sure you keep it waving,” I told him, smirking.  “You can take your clothes off while you’re in here.”  His clothes disappeared, and his cock maintained its momentum as he entertained me.

I showered and jacked off, watching Jamal’s monster cock perform its erotic dance.  After rinsing and turning the water off, I tried to grab his magic tube, but he could avoid my hand every time.  We laughed together, I dried myself, and we went back into the bedroom where I got into my boxer-briefs when there was a knock on the door.

“Room service,” the man’s voice said.

I slipped on a robe for propriety in an Arab world, opened the door and let an absolutely gorgeous young Arab man in with my breakfast.  He had broad shoulders, his biceps filled the flowing sleeves, and his pecs filled out the top of the shirt while it tapered to a trim waist behind a gold sash. 

“Come in!  Please put the tray on the table by the window.”    I got a 5,000 dinar for his tip and he was shocked.
“Oh no, I cannot accept this much, great sir,” he said in shock.

“I don’t have anything smaller, so keep it and I may need some other services later.  I’ll ask for you and you can forget any payment then – maybe.”  We grinned at each other.  “Whom should I ask for?  What is your name?”

“I am Hassan.  Please ask for Hassan and I will be at your service always.”

“I’ll do that, Hassan.  I’m sure you are very good at everything you do.  Have a nice day.” 

Hassan closed the door behind him, I sat to eat breakfast, and Jamal reappeared with a “shit-eating” grin across his face.

“You Americans have an expression – I think yours is working overtime,” he said.

“Sounds like you have your own ‘gadar’ working full-time too.”

“Let me know when you are ready to leave for Switzerland.  Whistle ‘Dixie’ when you want me, Master!”

“Smart-ass!”

* * * * *

It was about 10:00 a.m. in Zurich when I appeared in a stall of a men’s restroom.  As I was trying to acclimate myself to this new means of instant transportation, an idea came to me.  After washing my hands, I took out my cell phone and pretended to make a call.  Actually, I was talking to Jamal.  “Keep half of the money under wraps so we can go to another bank this afternoon.”

“As you wish, Master,” he replied, and I hope I was the only one who heard him.

I walked out of the office building, hopefully looking like a prosperous young businessman, across the street to the USB building.  Inside, I gave the young lady at the reception station my name and told her I had an appointment with Herr Heinrich Koenig.  She showed me an area to have a seat and someone would see me soon.  She asked if I would like some coffee or chocolate while I waited.  Coffee sounded perfect to me. 

When a middle-aged man came toward me, he said my name, so I stood, and we shook hands.  I explained that I had inherited a large sum of money from my European family and wanted to keep that inheritance in Europe.  A Swiss bank was all I would truly trust, and USB among the most reputable.  We went into his office, I filled out some paperwork, opened my attaché case, showing him the five hundred thousand US dollars, I wanted to deposit.  He completed the paperwork, gave me some preliminary checks and deposit slips until the printed ones were ready.  I asked him if I could pick them up here in Zurich since I would not be home in America for at least a month, maybe two.  That was agreeable to him.  He asked if I had plans for lunch as he would like for me to join him and a friend; naturally I readily agreed.

He picked up the phone to call his friend.

“Gerhard, heute Mittag essen.  Ich habe einen neuen Klienten hier mochte ich dich treffen.     Grant Richards, der GNN NewsMan.     Tust du? Bei 3.15?”  ⁴

Heinrich looked at me, so I acknowledged that.  Jamal told me mentally that he had put me on the calendar with Gerhard Rothschild at Credit Suisse to deposit the other half of today’s money. 

“I’ll make the reservation for 12:30 at Parkhuus.  Spater!  I think you’ll like Gerhard.  We are very close friends, although we work for different banks.  We never take our work home with us.  To paraphrase one of your expressions, what happens at work stays at work.  He is easy to work with.”

The meal was outstanding and the company more so.  After a long lunch time with delicious food and too much wine for me, it was obvious the two of them were more than just “friends.”  Gerhard and I walked back to his office and took care of our business there.  The second half of Septis’ “donation” was in the case at the needed time.   Jamal and I got back to Bagdad in time for dinner. 

The next morning, Septis had a fresh supply of one-dollar bills stacked but Jamal had it converted to hundreds by the time I got back from breakfast and stashed in the attaché case. 

“Jamal, please check out some of the banks in the Caribbean.  I would like at least one appointment over there this evening which would be mid-afternoon there.  I have deposit slips for the two Swiss banks, two hundred fifty thousand each today.”

“It shall be done as you wish, Master.”

It was a busy day for our crew this day.  We covered some activity up in Kirkuk and filed several video reports from the scene.   I ordered my dinner up in the room, which Hassan delivered, and looking even hotter than the day before.  I just had a towel around me when I opened the door for him.  He went directly over to the table and didn’t see me until he turned around.  His mouth dropped open and he started to hyperventilate.  I gave him a bottle of water and told him to sit down.  I’m not sure but think his legs gave way under him because he plopped in the chair.  I don’t know how it happened, but my towel came undone and dropped, leaving me totally naked in front of the kid.  Then I realized Jamal had pulled it from around my waist. 

“Damn it, Jamal!” I said, sotto voce.

Poor Hassan was staring at me in shock and awe. 

“I’m sorry, Hassan, I did not mean for that to happen.”

“Oh, do not worry, Mr. Grant.  I will not tell anybody.  I have been wishing that would happen since I was here yesterday.”

Now I was in shock.  “You have?” I asked incredulously.  

“Oh yes.  I have never seen a more magnificent man.  Thank you!”

I reached down and put my towel back around me, forgetting to give him a tip.  Or maybe I gave him a gratuity more to his liking.  Then Hassan let himself out of the room.

I got dressed in my new business attire while Jamal gave me a rundown of some of the offshore banks.  The Royal Bank of Canada requires a minimum deposit of one million dollars, as does the Swiss Bank.  The Cayman Bank only requires one hundred thousand, minimum. 

“Okay, Jamal.  Let’s go to the Cayman Islands since we only have two hundred fifty thousand.  We’ll do the Bahamas tomorrow and Thursday.”

Again, Jamal deposited me in a stall of a men’s room; then I walked across the street to the Cayman Bank and asked for Mr. Wylie Grayson.  I had a 3:30 appointment.

Mr. Grayson came out and introduced himself, then asked me to join him in his office.  I went through the inheritance routine.  When I pulled out the money, he called in an associate, Jarrell Crane, to verify the cash amount and co-sign the paperwork.  Again, I got a PING from my “gaydar” about these two.  What was Jamal doing?  Setting me up with all the gay bankers in the world? 

It was close to 5:00 and the bank was about to close.  Wylie invited me to join him and Jarrell for a drink around the corner, if I had time.  Of course, I happily accepted.  And was very glad I did.  We spent about an hour at a hip cocktail lounge.  When they invited me to have dinner with them, I declined, asking for a “rain check.”  It was past midnight Bagdad time and I had an early call this morning at the office.

I was in my own bed fifteen minutes later.  Later that morning, I filled out deposit slips for each of the banks to distribute the money, including my Bank of America account.  While I worked, Jamal took the money and deposit slips to the various banks, making them appear in various tellers’ cash drawers, and on their computer logs.  We needed to figure a way to transfer the money electronically. 

‘Scarlett and I will think about that tomorrow, Rhett!’

Jeff, Jennine, Maji and I had to drive up to Mosul for a major story, and I ended up doing ten feeds, one in each of the languages I speak.  Back at the office, Jeff would send those with the cut-away footage that he, Maji and I shot during the day.  Then another long drive back to Bagdad.  Man! What a week!  I just wanted to spend the weekend in bed, or maybe on the sands of Clearwater Beach, Florida – my favorite spot on earth.  But I still had some work to do on finding a computer tech I could trust entirely to get my windfall automatically deposited in all the banks.  Next week I want to get a couple more in the Bahamas.  I also want to see whom Jamal hooks me up with.  He’s scoring a thousand percent so far! 

To be continued...  

⁴ “Gerhard, about lunch today.  I have a new client here I want you to meet. 

  Grant Richards, the GNN newsman.      You do?  At 3:15?

Posted: 08/24/18