In a crimson boudoir heavy with roses and candlelight, Sam Tye sits at a black lacquered vanity and paints her lips with the focused grace of a woman preparing for something delicious. A slip of black satin kimono slides from her shoulder, revealing the sculpted line of a collarbone and the tops of nude lace-welt stockings that climb her long, Junoesque legs. Crimson nails match the blooms in the mirror, and the whole scene glows with a dangerous, magnetic heat.

The kimono loosens and Sam perches on the edge of the vanity in a black satin and pink-trimmed lingerie set, her flesh-toned nylons catching candlelight as she stretches one pointed foot into the air and leans back on her sculpted arms. Then everything falls away. Rising to her feet beside the vase of deep red roses, she stands in stockings alone, one hand resting on the vanity, the pert, arresting curve of her bust and the peachy swell of her hip bathed in warm lamplight. A final pose has her topping a nylon back into place, chin lifted, eyes smoky, a commanding centrefold who knows exactly how chic looks when it finally lets the robe fall.