Helloooooo Tiff!

"Um... sure."

Ernest was almost entirely at a loss as Tiffany swept into his house, more-than-casually brushing her epic bust against his chest in the process. His casual acquaintance had somehow been transformed into the sexiest woman he could imagine -- who somehow claimed that they were close, whatever that meant, and that she'd convinced her father to buy them matching Corvettes. Sure, Tiffany's family had money to burn (much like Jessica's), but if you'd asked Ernest even just an hour ago, he would have assumed that they would have literally lit it on fire before buying him a car that cost that much. Hell, he'd never even met Tiffany's parents.

"Can I...could I get you anything to drink?" he asked awkwardly as Tiffany walked down the hall and into the living room. He winced mentally at the sight of Tiff juxtaposed with his mom's decorating scheme -- cat clocks, Disney figurines, and an honest-to-kitschiness piece of cross-stitch that read 'BLESS THIS MESS' hanging above the coat closet. Yet Tiffany seemed either not to notice, or to be totally used to her surroundings -- he didn't even have to guide her as she sashayed around the corner and up the stairs toward Ernest's room.

...wait, what?

"I don't think I need anything," she purred, looking over her shoulder back at Ernest, and fixing him with piercing violet eyes (Had they always been that color?), "Or let's say, I can think of something I'd like to put in my mouth, but it's not anything you'll find in the kitchen." She winked at him to punctuate the suggestive remark.

"Hang on, Tiffany. Tiff? Can we...can we just sit in the living room for a second? I'm...I'm feeling kind of off right now, and I wanted to ask you a couple questions."

It wasn't as if Ernest didn't want to go to his bedroom and see just how willing dream-Tiffany was to fulfill the vague but erotic promises she was making. But caution was getting the better of the lanky teen even now. Was this all the ring's doing? There was no longer any other explanation, right? But if the ring had somehow changed Tiffany into the vision of sex before him -- and changed the past as well, so that there was a backstory behind the car in the driveway -- it was best to tread carefully until he knew what his new present entailed. The larger questions of just how powerful the ring was, how exactly it worked, and what if any limits it had, seemed too mind-boggling to fully contemplate just yet. Best to start where he was and work from there.

"Of course," The expression on her face changed to one of concern, even if it was less the kind of concern you'd see from a nurse in the hospital, and more the kind you'd see from a nurse in a porno hospital, the kind where every injury was treated with a blowjob. Ernest sat down on one end of the chintzy orange loveseat; Tiffany sat down as close as possible without actually ending up in Ernest's lap. "What's going on, babe?"

"So...forgive me if this seems odd -- I'm really not feeling like myself right now. But...when you say we're close, what exactly do you mean? As in, how would you define our relationship, Tiffany?"

Tiffany laughed, a throaty chuckle that was itself enough to make Ernest's cock twitch involuntarily in his pants, "Oh babe, is that what this is about? I mean, I'll always be your girlfriend, but if you want to fuck other girls, that's totally okay. Hell, I'll even help you find them. Who are you interested in? Is it Jess? I know she's got her pick of boys, but once I tell her about how amazing your cock feels, I promise I can get her into bed with you. Or us," she added conspiratorially.

This was not at all what Ernest had meant. How do you respond to something like that? Half of him was convinced that this was a hallucination, the kind of hypoxic dream that comes right before the brain shuts down at the moment of ****.

The other half of him figured that, even if that were the case, he might as well die with a smile on his face.

"Thanks, Tiff. Um...is there something else you wanted to do?"

"You have no idea," she murmured. She grabbed his hand, pulled him up from the loveseat, and practically dragged him upstairs to his bedroom.

Jess had grabbed her phone, and was frantically paging through the contacts when the voice came into her mind again.

"I wish someone was here to explain to me where that car came from...and that it was the girl of my dreams."

The fact that even though it was all in her head, she could hear the hesitation and disbelief in Ernest's voice didn't really make her any happier. Who was the girl of Ernest's dreams anyway? How were her powers going to make that happen? And why, why did the rules of genie-hood make it so that she didn't even know how his wish was granted?

Of course, it was hard to fully consider those questions during a mind-blowing, leg-shaking orgasm. This was easily the most powerful one yet, and Jess couldn't help herself from sinking to the floor and moaning in pleasure as the erotic feelings overtook her. The party was still so loud that no one seemed to have heard, but the whole experience filled the blonde cheerleader with a strange mixture of frustration, anger, and sexual satisfaction.

It was at least a couple minutes before she regained her senses. When she finally stopped quivering, she reached over and picked her phone up again. There he was in her contacts, under ERNEST FROM HISTORY. Trembling, she hit the CALL button with her thumb.

Tiffany shoved Ernest into his room and shut the door behind him -- taking special care to turn the lock when she did so. She then pushed Ernest down onto his bed... and then the warbling sounds of the default ringtone on Ernest's phone filled the air.

"Now?" he asked himself in exasperation. He pulled the offending appliance out of his pocket, but before he could even see who it was that was calling, Tiffany had snatched it from his hand, and tossed it onto a beanbag chair in one corner of the room.

"We've got more important things to do right now, babe," she cooed, "They can wait."