Now Dr. Hauser looked a bit concerned again. "Did that ring run out of wishes?" she asked.
"I don't know," I said, rubbing it between the finger and thumb of my other hand. "I wish I knew."
With that, I heard, as a loud whisper directly into my brain, This ring will never run out of wishes.
I must have looked a little too startled or something, because Dr. Hauser reached over and jabbed at a button on her phone. "Jean, could you come in here?" she asked.
The door opened, the receptionist walked in, and Dr. Hauser and I both stared. Jean was dressed in a tight silver-colored top that had a high neckline but left her shoulders bare and just barely reached down to cover her breasts. A pair of tiny shorts with laces on the sides and vinyl thigh-high boots with platform heels completed the clothing ensemble. Her face was made up as much as Dr. Hauser's (a bit tougher to tell on her dark skin, though), and I was pretty sure she hadn't had quite so many piercings in each ear as she did now, not to mention the one through a nostril that was filled with a small silver hoop. The biggest change, though, was her hair -- instead of her natural-colored, short- cropped style, she now had bleached curls that reached down almost to her ass.
"What is it?" Jean asked. "What's going on?" I could see that she had a silver stud through her tongue.
Dr. Hauser turned to me. "What did you do to Jean?"
"Nothing," I answered. "At least nothing directly."
"How long have you looked like that?" the doctor demanded.
Jean looked down at herself, confused. "Uh, all my life," she replied, a quizzical tone in her voice.
"No, no," said Dr. Hauser. "The clothes, the makeup, the hair, the -- the jewelry."
Jean frowned. "Since I put them on this morning. Is there a problem, Dr. Hauser? I feel that I'm dressed in a completely professional and appropriate manner, just like yourself."
Suddenly it hit me, and I got up and ran to the window of Dr. Hauser's office. Looking several stories down onto the street, what I saw was like a male fantasy come to life. The women were acting perfectly normally -- carrying briefcases, talking on cell phones, getting out of a taxi -- but they were doing it all looking as if they'd stepped out of a porn movie, balancing on ridiculously high heels and showing off acres of flesh. My wish had, it seemed, changed the entire definition of "professional and appropriate clothing," and changed history as a result.
I turned back to Dr. Hauser and Jean, a big grin on my face, and proudly announced, "My wishes can change reality itself."