A Dress Worth Flying For      

Sophie was striking a series of dramatic poses all around the house, each one more outlandish than the last.

She arched her back by the grand staircase, contorted herself like a yoga pretzel in the lounge, and even attempted a sultry look by the kitchen sink.

Eddie, meanwhile, stood behind the camera, eyes widening with each new pose.

"Sophie, try to act natural—like . . . just relax a little?" he suggested, his voice slightly desperate.

But there was no stopping her. She tilted her head at a 90-degree angle and squinted at the camera like she was spotting some mysterious object in the distance.

"Maybe . . . uh, no squinting?" Eddie mumbled, scratching his head as she leaned against the wall like it was a long-lost lover.

The next moment, she was sprawled out on the couch, one arm draped over her forehead as if she'd just fainted from reading a particularly scandalous romance novel.