I think she expects fiction, explicit sex in Henry James say. But she could possibly be persuaded to see things my way. Sir Galahad is of course and extract from the Sexy Idylls of the King.

double entendre
 

That suggests a potential new meaning for James' reported response to his heart attack: 'So here it is at last, the distinguished thing!' You could, erm, put it into the mouth of Isobel Archer.

Now I must get back to reading my Bible.

Well, the competition is "to submit an extract from your own racy retelling of a classic work of literature". Lucy may be expecting prose, but it is not specified, and I don't think (judging from past experience) that she would disqualify verse.

Basil, put that Bible down at once - you're only reading the smutty bits.

Let us behave decently, as in the daytime, not in orgies and drunkenness, not in sexual immorality and debauchery, not in dissension and jealousy.
(Romans 13:13)

"You think me a queer fellow already. It's not easy to tell you how I feel, not easy for so queer a fellow as I to tell you in how many ways he's queer." (Henry James, Passionate Pilgrim)

Blimey, is that how we're supposed to behave in the daytime? No one ever told me. Mind you, I don't usually go in for much in the way of dissension.

It's prose for me this time, I'm afraid: anyone for gay Barchester? Incidentally, since it is more difficult to judge prose against poetry, I wonder that Lucy doesn't preclude one or the other.

And while you're doing the appropriately-named Trollope, what about "The Whoreden"?

‘Behold!’ cried the Spirit.
Ebenezer Scrooge stared amazedly, for before him was the stout and respectable Mrs Fezziwig, removing her delicately embroidered night-dress, and before her Mr Fezziwig himself, quite as utterly naked as the plumpest and pinkest turkey in the butcher’s window.
Mr Fezziwig’s enthusiasm was manifest and soon the two of them were most energetically engaged. Such fondlings! Such gropings! Such teasing! Such pleasing! Such smacking of round pink buttocks and such waving of pretty plump legs in the air!
After a while they paused, Mr Fezziwig remarking thoughtfully: ‘My dear, at his season of all seasons, should we not consider those less fortunate than ourselves?’
‘Indeed we should, Mr Fezziwig!’ she replied, and called softly for Martha, their crippled orphan servant girl, who before long was in the bedroom too, and bonking away as wildly and as merrily as her delicate frame would allow.

George, a jolly enjoyable wheeze, but I was brought up short by 'bonking' which seems out of register with the rest, as well as anachronistically modern.