Yes.

In an instant you find yourself sitting on a cold stone bench next to a vanilla latte you don’t remember buying. Looking down at yourself you see a naked man with a sorta half chub boner. “What is going...” With a thunderclap in your head, the magic takes hold and finishes what it started and your head spins till the world fades to black as if someone were pulling the curtain after the end of a play. When you wake up you find yourself lying on your back on the cement. A small crowd has formed around you and someone has put something soft under your head.

“Are you all right?” A woman sitting next to you asks. “You are running a little bit of a fever. Are you on any medication or ****? Do you want me to call an ambulance?”

Sitting up you brush off your elbows and wince as you hit a tender spot. “Am I bleeding?” You say looking at your sexy slender fingers, but don’t see anything other than a bit of tiny rocks. “Do you see my jacket?” You ask suddenly aware your leather jacket is missing.

“No, I don’t, was it on the bench?” She replies, then, “Are you okay?”

“I think so.” You answer suddenly confused as you look down at yourself. “This is so weird I don’t remember wearing this today.” She hands you your somewhat expensive looking purse that matches your shoes perfectly. You are wearing 4” heel beige peep toe pumps, not anywhere near as exotic as you sort of remember putting on. Your legs are primary bare as you are wearing a somewhat short black skirt, over this hangs a nearly equal length long white shirt with tiny sleeves and a ruffled trim at the bottom. You can feel a soft cotton thong snug in the crack of your ass as well as a rather simple bra that seems more for fashion than support. Your breasts are rather small and by the look of it you are much taller than your mind tells you that you are. Looking at your black nailed hands you say, “Oh this is so odd, I must be loosing it.”

“Nina, oh my god did you fall down?” You hear a very British accented voice call out from behind you and as you turn to see the source of the voice a flood of memories fill your head pushing out the conflicting ones that lingered.

“I feinted.” You answer her and as you do the name Naomi Baker pops in your head.

“I told you to get a cinnamon roll, you never eat, you’re as skinny as a rail.” She holds out her smooth chocolate colored hand and helps you to your feet. Looking across her body you decide she must be a super model as she is clearly wearing a simple blouse, slacks, and high heel sandals, plus a few bracelets, rings, and a pair of chain necklaces. All of it is immaculate and designer brands, plus she is standing on 5” heels which makes her like 4” taller than you. She is also gorgeous. Her little quick hug makes your heart flutter and your cheeks even heat up a bit.