Fire! Oh wait, not more exposition, NOOooo...

You are floating weightless through a sea of nothingness surrounded by a white void. So this is **** is it? It seems a bit dull but you're not in any position to complain.

Wait, hold the phone! Now you are experiencing the alien sensation of watching your life from a birds eye view as jumbled images and sounds wash across you. Is this the famous part where your whole life flashes before your eyes? Well at least **** has got it's shit sorted and locked down tight, now you can figuratively sit back and enjoy the show before taking your final curtain call - even if it is technically a rerun as far as you're concerned.

Ooookay... so who is that then? You are **** to follow a figure dressed in faded courtly attire leading pack laden mule through what resembles a bustling grand bazaar densely packed with sun beaten people, colorful stalls and loudly hawking traders. You don't remember ever doing anything like that, so if not you then who is this guy? Are you watching somebody else's life flash before you eyes? What is that all about?! You take it all back, you demand to speak with ****'s manager!

The bazaar had smelled of exotic spices and animal shit...

BRRIIING!!

Now the scene has changed and you are looking down on the same traveler leading the heavily burdened pack mule over endless dunes of white sand baking under an unforgiving sun towards distant, distant mountains only barely visible on the far horizon through the heat haze of dust and sandy air. He's wearing one of those white cloth wrap thingies around his face now like he means business, good for him - is there really no-one you can talk to about this embarrassing mix-up? Maybe there's a toll free number you can call?

Adonis, you had named the mule Adonis...

BRRIIING!!

The man is caught in a sandstorm now, you would be deafened by the howling winds if only you had ears. The mule is gone and the figure below has saddle bags and a tightly bulging pack thrown over his shoulders as he is leaning hard into the gritty gale forcing step after step onward. Whoa, but this guy has some real gumption! You're kinda impressed but can't decide if he is being recklessly brave or a stone-headed moron. Either way, he's not you and you're getting pissed that this idiot is hogging the last of your lifes-end flash-back screen time.

The sand and wind tore at painfully at your burning flesh but you had pressed on through it...

BRRIIING!!

Urgh, what is with this guy? Now he is staggering into a tiny oasis; little more than a muddy patch in the ground with a shallow puddle in the middle of it. His clothing is worn and tattered, his pack flapping loose on his back as he scares away a few small birds to drop to his knees and drink the murky water. Is he trying to get sick? Birds have shit in that water man! You can practically taste the foul fluid and would have retched if not so... incorporeal. Those mountains still loom in the distance, closer now but still so far off across the hot desert sands. Now back to you if you please...

A man dying of thirst in the desert must drink whatever water he can find....

BRRIIING!!

Nope, just another scene of this stage-hogging asshole staggering fitfully over the rocks at the base of a towering cliff-side. Well you'd be damned- ummm bad choice of words here... ahem, you can't believe your eyes, he made it across the hellish desert to those distant mountains! ...for all the good it will do him. This whole area looks as baked dry and bereft of life as the bleached white sands stretching back to the horizon behind him.

Your point of view closes in on him as he weaves drunkenly along the base of the rocky crags and he looks like something fished out of a deep fryer and given life. What you can see of his skin is red raw, drawn tight with starvation and covered in oozing blisters, his eyes rolling sightless white in his emaciated skull, his lips cracked and caked with dry blood. His shaking hands quest over the ragged rock-face until he all but stumbles into an open fissure a few steps ahead of you. Your own concerns forgotten you wait to see if he'll emerge or just lay down and die when you hear a ragged huffing noise.

Is that supposed to be laughter? Maybe if it came oldest, driest, dustiest set of bellows in existence then to your eternal surprise you see the guy, all skin, bones and rags come rolling out of the break in the rock wall and flop onto him back facing up into the blazing sun. In his loose fist there is the gleam of bright polished metal; a simple gold band and looking down at a face no longer obscured by his shemagh - so that's what they are called! Go you! - you stare in wide non-existent eyed horror. The face, though scarred by his impossible journey is hauntingly familiar...

Is that your face?! No way.

BRRIIING!!

"Oof, well that was a close call! How are you feeling now Mr Prince Guy?"

What? Who?

You feel... different. No longer burning up like a dry aged, medium rare, flame grilled steak you open your eyes expecting to find more searing bright light to instead lock gazes with a girl staring down at your languorously prone self.

A pretty girl if her exotic almond shaped eyes, cute Cleopatra nose and plush bow of a mouth are any indication ...a pretty purple girl?!

With a gasp you sit up as she dances back away from you clapping her hands joyfully, a self-satisfied grin on her plum colored lips. Yep, she's purple alright or maybe more of a dusty lavender? Sorry but you left your color swatches in your other pants.

"Yay, I did it! You are welcome!! Now you may applaud me and bask in my glorious magnificence."

You can only gape at the lilac cutie as she stands there with little hands on hips radiating smug success from every periwinkle pore. If that is her costume here on the job then the wardrobe and make-up department really went all out on the little lady!

There's lavender skin and lots of it, the make-up artists must buy the color in bulk to cover her bared slender arms, long legs that go all the way to the ground, taut belly and exposed, bulging cleavage. Then there's her barely there outfit; a gold trimmed ruby red string bikini accented with floating violet strips of gauzy silken fabric attached to her wrists, hips and ankles. You are sure more poetic types might describe the wafting material as 'diaphanous' or maybe 'gossamer' but the only word coming to you right now is 'transparent' as it does nothing to hide all that deliciously sweet flesh beneath it.

So yeah, your new co-worker is a total smoke show, a waking teenage dream, a one hundred percent certified hottie! Is your cosplay kink flaring up? Maybe a little... okay, okay it is rearing up inside you like a shackled King Kong getting ready to seize this lissome beauty and scale the Chrysler building. If there is a handbook outlining a workplace policy against employee fraternization you never saw it. You certainly hoped there isn't because this Bedouin beauty has the lithe body of a star ballerina who had to quit the ballet after her tits grew too big and you are totally into it!

"Hey, why aren't you praising me already? I did as you asked you know. Is a little thanks too much to expect?"

Oh dear lord, she is pouting now and it's too god-damned cute! With her arms crossed tight under her plump bosom and her perfect nose stuck high in the air you just want to scoop her up and snuggle her tight until she's smiling for you again. But hang on...

"What I asked..?"

"Yes!" She says rounding on you with all the petulant fury of a litter of angry kittens and starts counting off points on her delicate amethyst fingers...

"Firstly you want to be my prince; all handsome and dashing and charming and whatever I wanted."

Yeah, you vaguely remember spouting some nonsense like that but...

"Secondly, you want help. That's a very opened ended request and I think I've done a pretty great job of it so far!"

You definitely remember needing help... hang on, is there meant to be some kind of script for you to read off of here?

"~Aaand thirdly you said wanted to go home then you passed the heck out! I had to deduce your homeland from just looking at you and do you think translocation magic is easy? Well guess again Mister!"

That last proclamation takes all the steam out of her and she visibly wilts in front of you, her slim shoulders slumping and her midnight mass of dark hair falling forward to cover her pretty face. Who was this performance for anyway? Where was the audience? The rest of the cast?

"Uuumm... thank you?" You say climbing to your feet and looking around distracted. There's no-one but the two of you, a few trees and rolling green hills around as far as your eyes can see.

You can do better than that! You are playing a Prince now dammit; dashing and charming and all that other stuff she just said! Look at her man, she is actually beginning to tear up! Dashing! Charming! The first rule of improv is to always say "yes and..." so hop to it already!

"Please forgive me..." Oh shit, her name - what's her...

"Jaasi." she says with a pretty sniffle and you just want to lean down to kiss the tears off of her perfect lilac cheeks.

"Please forgive me Jaasi, I journeyed far and searched long to find you." So far so good you silver tongued devil! "Thank you so much for saving me at the end of my difficult trials. I am forever in your debt. Whatever can this humble Prince do to repay you?"

"Oh yaaay!" The purple waif leaps up at you with an excited squeee and you're **** to scoop her up in your arms or let her fall. That wouldn't be very princely so now she is held against your manly breast in a bridal carry with your hands on her bare thighs and swelling side-boob. Noice!

"That's more like it! You'll be my perfect prince and I'll be your beautiful genie. I've never had a prince of my own before. This is going to be sooo~ much fun!" She declares bopping you playfully on the nose with an index finger before snuggling her lovely face deeper into your chest with a happy contented sigh. "It's nice to get out and about again after so long..."

Excuse you? Did she just say Genie?!