"No! No! It isn't real! Get away from me!"
And in that instant Africa vanished.
"THE SECOND ILLUSION," that soft voice next to his ear said.
He was again alone, in an unfamiliar room. A lady's boudoir, he saw. A satin-covered spread lay over a wide, inviting bed; dressing-tables were laden with perfumes and cosmetics.
Behind him the door opened. A woman entered.
He had never seen her before. She was tall, dressed only in a filmy negligee that barely concealed her long sleek legs, her firm breasts. She was all he had ever wanted in a woman; she awakened desires that had been dead in him for twenty years.
"Hello," she said. Her voice was throbbingly throaty. "I've waited a long time for you, Paul Hendriks."
How did she know my name? How—
Then he stopped asking questions. She had glided close to him, stood there, bosom gently rising and falling, looking into his eyes. She was nearly as tall as he. He smelled her enticing perfume.