Mia Stryker steps into a corridor drenched in amber light in Golden Glow, one hand gripping a rough wooden column, the other planted on her hip. She wears a red button-front crop top tied at her waist, a denim mini skirt with a raw hem, and black lace-topped hold-up stockings that disappear into the shadow of the hallway behind her. Her dark curls bounce around her shoulders, and the vivid rose-and-black tattoo sleeves on both arms turn her into a walking canvas. The golden light floods in from somewhere unseen, turning every surface, wood, skin, denim, to the same burnished tone.

She turns her back and the denim skirt rides low, revealing a black cage-strap bra and the rounded contour of her backside above the lace stocking tops. The crop top and skirt are stripped away until Mia stands in nothing but an intricate black harness of straps and clips, the lingerie more architecture than fabric, her tattooed body the centrepiece. She looks back over her shoulder as the golden corridor stretches behind her, the harness tracing her spine and hips, hold-up stockings glistening in the amber wash. Mia burns brighter than the light that named this set.