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“It’s quite breathtaking,” said Sophie Ellis-Bextor.

“Indeed,” agreed Shakespeare. “It’s sad that there are no written records that might let us know what it was for.”

“Quite, quite breathtaking,” said Ellis-Bextor, shedding a small tear.

“Then again, I suppose the mystery is half the attraction. If its true purpose were revealed, it would doubtless be far more prosaic than what we imagine in our ignorance.”

Shakespeare fluffed up his sheer linen collar and then risked a sidelong glance at Ellis-Bextor who had dropped to her knees, overcome with emotion.

“What’s up with you?” he asked.

“It’s just that it’s so… breathtaking,” said Ellis-Bextor.

“Breathtaking?”

“Breathtaking.”

There was a long silence, punctuated only by sobbing sounds emitting from the posho popster. Shakespeare regarded her forlornly before squatting down next to her and laying an arm across her heaving shoulders.

“Look at me,” he said. “Look me in the eyes.”

Ellis-Bextor looked up and Shakespeare handed her a tissue to wipe away the tears. Their eyes met, causing Ellis-Bextor’s face to subtly relax.

Shakespeare gently squeezed her shoulder and smiled at her kindly.

“Do you want to have sex?” he asked.


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Posted by Alex On June - 17 - 2011

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