Candice Collyer stands beneath a lemon tree in Golden Fruits, the ripe citrus hanging like lanterns above her as she wears a white lace bra, matching knickers, and a blush-pink silk robe that drapes from her shoulders like liquid. Black hold-up stockings with triple-stripe bands darken her legs, and her long platinum blonde hair falls pin-straight past her chest. The stone pillar beside her and the warm evening light give the scene the feel of a Mediterranean courtyard at the golden hour, and Candice, blue-eyed and luminous, is the ripest thing in the garden.

The robe slides from her arms as she turns to lean against the stone, the white lace bra cupping her generous, bountiful chest, her round backside framed between the stocking tops and the narrow white thong. The lemons glow overhead, the sunset warms the stone, and Candice unclasps the bra to stand bare-chested, one hand resting gently against the swell of her breast, her body nude save for the black hold-ups. The light catches the smooth expanse of her skin, the platinum hair, the golden fruit above, and everything in the frame seems to belong to the same warm, honeyed palette. Golden Fruits is a harvest worth savouring.