Sam Tye steps into a field of tall summer grass under a wide blue sky, a soft teal sundress fluttering around her slender thighs and sheer dark stockings catching glints of the low, late sun. Her golden hair lifts on the breeze and the seed heads of the meadow brush her knees, the whole scene painted in that hushed, honeyed light that makes English countryside feel like something out of a daydream. She looks serene, a little mischievous, entirely at home among the wildflowers.

Sam eases the straps of the dress off her shoulders and tugs the polka dot bodice down so the pale, pert curve of her breasts is framed by crumpled blue fabric and the wind moving through the grass. Then the dress is gone, her willowy, dewy figure bare to the waist as she hugs herself and lets the sun warm her luminous skin, a quiet smile playing at her mouth. She drifts back up through the meadow with the dress hanging loose again, a glowing, willow slim silhouette against the trees, summer written all over her.