I realized there were still a couple more "improvements" that needed to be made to Lauren. I muttered two quick wishes under my breath. What Lauren first saw in the window was her face come alive with color; instead of understated professional-looking makeup, she was now painted as if she were starring in a porn movie, with glossy red lips, dark pink cheeks, plenty of blue eye shadow, and thick black eyeliner and mascara emphasizing her lashes. She gasped at that, and then her hair started growing out of its relatively simple straight shoulder-length style. Within seconds, it stretched to just past her waist, had become somewhat wavy, and had plenty of light brown highlights added to its natural jet-black color.
She could only stare at herself in the store window. I decided it was time I came to the rescue.
"Something wrong?" I asked.
"Oh, it's you," she said, and dropped her voice to an urgent whisper. "Did you see what just happened to me, or am I going crazy?"
"Well, I don't know --" I started.
She interrupted, still whispering. "I just changed! My clothes and shoes and hair and makeup and --" She must have realized she was no longer looking down at me, despite her higher heels, because she said, "And I think I shrunk!"
"Wow, that's weird," I said. "Sounds like someone, or something, is using magic on you."
"You think?!" she exclaimed.
I shrugged. "Either magic or technology that's advanced enough to be indistinguishable from magic, I guess."
"But who would want to change me so I look like a slut?"
"Could be random," I said. "Aliens or the government testing out a weapon that causes chaos. Terrorists with a genie lamp trying to bring down our media by altering our news anchors. Some horny guy with a magic ring."
"Altering our news anchors," she repeated. "Oh, my goodness."
I snapped my fingers, as if I'd just had a brainstorm. "But you can warn people!"
"That's right!" she exclaimed. "I can!"
"Then I wish you would go, and warn people about these transformations on the news," I said.
"Of course!" Finally able to leave my presence thanks to that wish, she whirled around and started walking away, as quickly as she could in her 4-inch heels. She pulled her cell phone back out of her purse and made a call, but I couldn't hear to whom. As I watched her ass rock back and forth under her black leather miniskirt, I made a wish that she'd be unable to do anything to her makeup and hair, and any clothes or shoes she tried to put on would magically transform into things that were just as sexy.
I had to remember to watch her on the news tonight -- I couldn't wait to see how she'd try to explain things.