That worked well.

All too soon he was clean. He could stall no more.

He reached for his clothes—and they were gone. He stared at the place on the counter where they had been. No one had come in here, but somehow the clothes had been taken.

He poked his head out of the alcove, holding the curtain so that his body was concealed.

"Uh, Violet, did you—?"

"I am ready, Van," she said. She had changed too, and now was in an opaque nightie. The material flattered her contours, but she remained by any standard an ordinary woman.

"Come and make love with me."

"But—"

"Oh, I forgot!" she exclaimed. "I haven't used the love spell!"

This was proceeding in the wrong direction! "I really don't—" He was not being gallant, just desperate.

"Now watch," she said. She turned toward the statue on the mantel. "Oh V, help me bind the man to me in love, and bind me to him, so that we may enjoy this night and have a good report for the dragon two days hence!"

She paused for a moment. Then she fetched a small candle and lit it from a coal in the fireplace. She set it on the table, so that its musky smoke spread into the room. It was incense, he realized. She began to dance. Van watched, wishing for a way out of this. If he could spot his clothing, he could get it while she was distracted by her dancing.

She moved well, making intricate little steps. As she moved, she unbound her hair, and it dropped to her shoulders and then below them, swirling about her head. Van had never understood what was supposed to be so sexy about undone hair, but had to admit that this was doing something for her. The lines of her face softened and her eyes seemed larger.

As she danced, she stroked her nightie, and with each stroke it became lighter, turning translucent. Van saw that her body was not as chunky as he had thought; indeed, it was manifesting as voluptuous. The nightie seemed to disappear after a while, and she was dancing naked, and it was a sight to madden a man's mind. His mind—and body—were responding; he was changing his attitude about her.

She made one more turn, then glided close to him. "How do you like me now, Van?" she breathed, her breasts heaving.

He let go of the curtain and stepped out to embrace her.

He woke beside her in the morning, appalled. He must have been drunk! That berry drink, that incense—what a night it had been! And all being recorded by the hidden cameras. How could he have forgotten about that?

He got up and went to the curtained alcove, where he discovered his clothing. What a relief!

He cleaned up and dressed. It took time, but he was getting the hang of the costume. He had to admit that it fit him well, and gave him that otherworldly look he liked.

He returned to the main chamber. Violet still slept. Well, that simplified things. He couldn't blame her for what had happened last night; she obviously wanted a man, and he was it, and she had used what she had to seduce him. But he was going to be wary of that berry drink after this!

"Van."

He jumped. The voice had not come from the bed. He went to the door, but no one was there.

"Not there, Van. Here."

He looked toward the sound. There was the V statue.

Oh. One of the monitors would be there. It must have a speaker. Someone from Project HQ