“Desdemona flipped over in her bed. The words kept her from sleep, teasing a deep warmth from her body. All evening she’d pored over the papyrus. Not an authentic papyrus, of course. Akhenaton and Nefertiti’s tombs had never been found. She could have offered the scroll’s creator a few pointers on counterfeiting age on papyrus, she thought. This was too clean, the vegetable dye too fresh looking, the whole too well preserved. The author’s imaginative abilities, on the other hand, were another ma...tter altogether. Not only were the verses erotic, sensual, and graphic, but they touched the heart as well as aroused the, er, spirit. At ten o’clock Desdemona had been interested, by midnight she was riveted, and by one A.M. she’d developed such heart palpitations only a brisk sponge bath in cold water had relieved her. She’d been lying in bed for the last hour, unable to get the verses out of her mind. They were nothing like the romantic books she kept hidden in her grandfather’s library and far more graphic than anything her own imagination had thus far come up with.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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