This is the sequel to Just like Magic – The Change. To understand this story I highly recommend reading that first. If you prefer not to, read the summary below

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXSpoilersXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

In part one a young aspiring magician named Henry Williams attends a performance by a reclusive master magician who turns out to be a true wizard. He transforms Henry into a beautiful young woman who then runs away almost naked and finds that she becomes a total slut around men. Her journeys lead her to an internet cafe in central London where she is caught giving a teenage boy a blow job and thrown out.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXSpoilersXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX





I could still taste the cum of my latest ‘conquest’ as I stood outside the internet cafe. I really needed a stiff drink. I Didn’t have a watch but I guessed it was about half eight or nine O’clock, almost everywhere would be open, London certainly doesn’t lack for watering holes. I couldn’t go to just any pub or bar though, it was only a few hours ago that stopping in to get out of the cold had ended in me prostituting myself in the ladies toilet. I had to avoid men, it was clearly the only way to avoid the slut side of my personality taking control.

I had heard of a place, even walked passed it a couple of times, which might to the job, The Aphrodite bar. It was a gay bar, lesbian specifically. No men were allowed, it was supposed to be the only place in London for Lesbians to go if they wanted to avoid lads on the pull and groping hands. It was also fairly close by if I remembered right.

I had to ask someone for directions but the place was more or less where I thought it was, walking down Rommilly street I noticed that it was getting colder. I know I have said it a lot but you try walking around in a thin pink top which ends before your belly button and a skirt which barely covers your thighs on an English November day and not go on about it. Clothes aside I was grateful to get the the bar.

Even this early there was a bouncer outside. She was a fearsome looking woman, much bigger than me (bigger than I had been before the change) and clearly not in any mood to entertain. Pity the poor man who tried to get past her. I wasn’t a man though, I was a pretty little girl. She gave me a good look over and from her expression I don’t think she much liked what she saw, the Aphrodite was supposed to be a high end place and I looked like a dirty whore. Still I was clearly old enough to drink and female which was qualification enough for her to let me in.

The warmth of the place was a blessing even though I had only walked a couple of streets. The Aphrodite was a nice place, very modern. Blue and purple seemed to be the theme along with a post modern look. The seats were either tall egg shaped things which looked like someone had sliced one side off of a wine glass or else white been bags with a back to them making them more like a bean armchair. Set of stairs to my left led up to a railed gallery above while a long bar made almost entirely of glass dominated the right hand wall. Then there was the art work, there was hardly a wall without its own fresco of beautiful yet strong women painted in a minimalist style. I liked it.

It was still fairly early on a weekday so the place wasn’t crowded though it wasn’t empty either. I didn’t have to wait at the bar. Normally Henry drank whisky or beer so why I ordered a Vodka and tonic I don’t know but it took a healthy bite out of my finances. I definitely didn’t have enough to get a room tonight and this and other thoughts drove me to drink faster than I ought to have done. Ordering another I left the bar and found myself a free nest of bean chairs to curl up on.

The music was a weird mix of modern pop and female empowerment with a healthy slice of just good female singers. I listened to Mazy Starr, sipped my Vodka and watched the rest of the place. There were several groups in clustered around their own little tables. A gaggle of twenty somethings dominated the centre of the room, there was a lot of giggling and loud talk about both girls and boys. A trio of middle aged women lounged on chairs like mine sharing a bottle of champagne in one corner while a more mixed group took up another, it almost looked like a mother and daughter day out. Then there was the other one.

I didn’t see her at first, she was up above, on the gallery looking down. Watching, like me. My drink was down to its last sip and I was weighing up whether I could afford another so soon when she walked up behind me and slid into the seat to my right.
“Are you waiting for someone?” Startled I looked at her. She was pretty, very pretty. About thirty or so with lightly tanned unblemished skin and a Grace Kelly hair cut she wore a simple white dress which covered her from neck to knee without hiding her figure very much at all.

“Errr, no,” I replied somewhat hesitantly
“Neither am I,” she said with a smile “but I hate drinking alone, will you join me?”
I hadn’t even answered before a waitress arrived with a bottle of champagne in a bucket of dry ice and two glasses.
“Sure,” After all a drink was a drink and with less than thirty pounds left anything that kept my finances in tact was a good thing. Besides I found myself quite drawn to this woman, her confidence, her assertiveness quite different to Dean or any of the other men I had met.

She poured me a glass, took one herself and lay back in the squishy almost chair with one leg crossed over the other and began to talk. She had a slight accent, I couldn’t quite place it, somewhere in eastern Europe I thought. She said her name was Katrina, that she was in London on business and always came to the Aphrodite when she was in town. Mostly though we talked about me, which made for an awkward conversation since a lot of things about me I had to make up on the spot. I told her I was single (which was true) and that I was an actress (which wasn’t). I told her I didn’t really know anyone in the city which was why I was drinking alone and that sometimes you just want to get away from men although I wasn’t a lesbian (which was why I was drinking there).

The bottle was almost empty when I felt a hand on my thigh. I was surprised but it was just for a moment as she rose to order more and I let it pass. As I was finishing my next glass however the hand returned; it was soft and cool against the rising heat of the place and once again I said nothing. We were talking about art, I knew a little about art, enough to hold my end and I was glad not to be talking about myself any more. Her hand inched up my leg as we discussed the artist who had painted the frescos at Aphrodite. My talk of minimalism foundered a little as her hand slipped beneath my skirt and slid along my inner thigh. I looked at her, eyes wide but said nothing. A familiar feeling was coming over me.

“Do you want me to stop?” she asked in a whisper
Maybe it was the booze or something but I switched the conversation to cinema and left the hand where it was.

Taking this for permission she stroked the inside of my thigh and I felt the first stirrings of dampness between my legs
‘I should stop this,’ I thought to myself ‘you came here to get away from sex, you should get out before it is too…’
“Do you always go out without panties?” Katrina’s hand ventured higher and a single finger now rested just above my clit.

“No,” I said, blushing “I just lost them today,”
The bar had become busier as we drank and it was loud enough that I couldn’t whisper as she pried the story of the boy in the internet café out of me. I am not sure I would have whispered anyway, suddenly after most of a bottle of champagne and with a stranger’s hand hovering over my slit I was oddly proud of it. Her finger traced the very outer edges of my sex, never quite touching, as I recounted masturbating in public and letting a teenager cum in my mouth. Just about the only thing I didn’t tell was why I had been there in he first place, she didn’t seem to care.

“Darling you are delightful,” she told me as I ended my story. Unexpectedly her hand withdrew and she stood up, my pussy pulsed with disappointment
“Don’t look so sad darling, I am only going to the toilet,”
Those words reminded me that it had been several hours, two vodka tonics, a bottle of champagne, a cup of coffee and a cumshot since had had visited the loo myself.
“I will go with you,” I said. Maybe this is why women all seem to go to the bathroom together, sympathetic bladders or something.

She had to steady me twice on the way to the bathroom, booze and heels do not make for a stable frame, she also knew where they were which was good since the door was completely covered by one of the frescos, I might have been some time finding it on my own. It was much nicer than the Peddler’s arms, blue floor, white sinks, purple cubicles. There were a few other women in there but a couple of toilets were available and I headed straight to one. Thankfully unlike the pub the lock on the cubicle door actually worked and I was able to piss in relative peace.

No one would be bursting in on me this time but a door couldn’t keep my own mind at bay. Katrina had really turned me on, my pussy so wanted to be touched. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe I was just getting used to my slut side but I didn’t try very hard to resist. I parted my legs a little wider and stuck two fingers inside myself, pumping rhythmically. After a moment I tried adding a third but my pussy was so tight it was a hard struggle. My right hand joined in almost of its own accord and began playing with my clit. Biting my lip I was trying not to make any noise but I had been in there long enough for Katrina to say
“Are you alright in there darling?”
I didn’t say anything, I didn’t trust myself to say anything, most people might have assumed I had fallen asleep (I was pretty drunk after all) but Katrina had me figured out better than I thought
“Are you masturbating in there darling?” she didn’t keep it quiet, there were other women about and I have to wonder how they reacted, obviously inside the cubicle I couldn’t see.

My choices now were not great; I could come clean which would be embarrassing, I could lie and say I was taking a shit or something (also embarrassing) or I could ignore her.