Emma Lou reclines across a silver framed navy chaise longue in a sheer black babydoll robe that drifts open over a black and hot pink lace bra and matching suspender knickers, her platinum bob falling pale against the dark velvet. Nude seamed stockings stretch taut down her statuesque legs, pinned at the thigh by slim satin suspender straps, and a pair of scarlet peep toe heels slashes bright colour across the navy tufting. She tips her head back with a slow, confident smile, every line of her commanding hourglass figure carved out by the cool studio light, every inch the Parisienne aristocrat at rest.

Emma rolls onto her front, the little robe slipping down her shoulders as she arches the sculpted swell of her bottom up to the camera, suspender clips biting into the sheer nude nylon drawn tight over creamy thighs. She rises to stand barefoot on the chaise, robe gone and bra cast aside, only the black lace suspender belt and those whisper thin stockings left across her bare skin, hands lifted behind her platinum hair in unhurried challenge. She sinks back with long legs stretched high in red heels, hosiery gleaming from toe to stocking top, the whole scene a simply, unmistakably French salute from a luminous blonde who knows exactly how powerful she looks.