Jamie Jenkins takes over the bright white kitchen with the easy poise of a woman who knows exactly how the morning light falls on her. She begins perched on a bar stool in a scarlet lace bodysuit with delicate cut-outs at the waist, white fishnet holdups and high black patent heels, her long chestnut waves tumbling loose around her shoulders. The gloss of marble and the chrome of the appliances throw a cool reflection across her bronzed, toned thighs, and her smoky eyes hold the lens with a soft, teasing smile that says she is enjoying every second of the game.

From there Jamie turns the room into her own playground. She kneels on the timber floor in front of the oven, arching her back so the lace rides up along her silky, sculpted spine, then drifts to the counter where she slips the straps of the bodysuit free and lets the red lace fall around her hips. In the later frames she is topless at the worktop, her curvaceous figure and pert, peachy rear catching the window light as she glances back over her shoulder, the white fishnets still snug against her thighs. It is a lazy, flirtatious morning routine photographed with a glossy editorial sheen, equal parts domestic fantasy and pin-up indulgence.