Just like Magic Part 2 - The long way back - Sex Stories

Just like Magic Part 2 - The long way back

... decaying monument to a previous age. Unlike the theatre the door was ajar. That had to be Virgil's work, had he really been so sure I would come back? Maybe he just left it on the off chance. Either way I stepped inside. The lobby was dark, illuminated only by the faint light of grimy windows. Furnished in oak and green leather it must once have been a sight to see. Hesitantly I walked up the the reception desk. There was no one around, non the less a single key had been placed right at the centre. It was numbered XIII. I really was starting to hate the smug bastard for a whole new reason, I don't like being predictable. If the hotel ever had an elevator it was almost certainly out of order, I found the stairs and climbed two stories before finding the door to room thirteen. Swallowing my mounting butterflies I briefly considered knocking before simply unlocking the door and opening it. A faint squeal of rusted hinges and two small steps seemed to take me back a hundred and fifty years to a time when men were men and Britania ruled the waves. Thirteen wasn't a room it was a suite. Large windows with curtains thrown wide revealed a sitting room as large as the one in my house and much smarter. A pair of chesterfield armchairs sat next to an open fire. Neither were occupied though the fire burned merrily. Instead the doorman stood, bolt upright and still as a statue, by a door leading off to the right. Without a word he pointed to one of the chairs, when I made no move he ...

... gestured again, more firmly, and I decided to sit down. God what had I gotten myself into coming back here? Once I was settled he knocked on the door and disappeared inside. I waited, it seemed like an age. Several times I got up to leave, to knock on that door, to do something! Every time I sat down again. Eventually, finally, the door opened. “The former Mr Williams, I knew you would find your way home,” it was Virgil. He was as I remembered him, a tall man in his early forties with the build of an ageing athlete not yet ready to let himself go. The moustache on his face was as preened as I recalled but the top hat and tails had been replaced by a navy blue lounge suit. He was an attractive man, shrouded in authority and confidence, and a large part of me wanted him. The other part, the old me, had rehearsed this moment many times in the last few hours. Now that it came to it all those carefully planned words seemed to fall out of my head. “I want to be me again!” I tried to sound calm “I want to be a man,” The great magician smiled “I know,” he took a seat opposite me, sat, and waited. The silence stretched and of course I was the one to break first “Will you do it? Reverse the spell?” I asked “No, I told you two nights ago, I will not change you back, but I will teach you how to do so yourself,” I had many questions, the first one to come out was simply “Why?” His answer was postponed by Lottie, the plump West Indian woman who had acted as door clerk at the performance. ...