Sequels have a bad connotation and this followup explains why. At least a dozen "flashbacks" of old footage from the original LIKE A VIRGIN are inserted at regular Pavlovian intervals with most of the screen covered in a white oval haze as a lame attempt to cash in twice.
New footage and storyline have no relationship to the title but rather represent Peter North telling us he's taken over his firm, fired everyone and hired a brand-new staff who will meet each other at a party at his home. That's the entire back-of-an-envelope screenplay, but masochists will be able to see degraded "highlights" of Christy Canyon and pals breaking up the continuity. Irony is that this stinker is in circulation as part of a Canyon 3-fer from Alpha Blue Archives when obviously Part 1 would have been the logical archival choice.
Bunny Bleu is the nominal lead here, though all the gals have sexual assignments. Biggest surprise is that some of them, like Keli Richards and Patti Petite, are known for their anal specialty but do not indulge in this cut-rate loser.
Main set-piece is an orgy in which folks pair off, or go for troilism, with North ending up being serviced by 3 women at once when good ole Sharon Mitchell shows up via a credit Jodie Foster would love: "as The Beaver". Miss Mitch is done up with weird eye makeup, a flimsy cellophane outfit and no dialog in this lame guest appearance. She also ends the video on a strange note, literally slithering out the door, more reptilian than of the buck-toothed rodent persuasion.
The randomly inserted archive footage is blamed on North's mental state where (for the purpose of video cheapness) he constantly is reminiscing at the viewer's expense. Even the least competent editor would have to concede that VIRGIN II would play better with all these old snippets removed.
Most incompetent new scene has North interrupted in his 4-some by Scott Irish entering the room and demanding that Buffy Davis come with him for some 1-on-1 action, as awkward a transition as I've seen in ages. It merely demonstrates that director Roy Karch couldn't care less about the quality of this desultory assignment.
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