Jaye Rose curls into the corner of a cream couch with a paperback held daintily in her fingers, the picture of a clever girl with a secret. Her red hair falls in soft waves over a slouchy grey tee, and little denim cut-offs ride high on her hips, framing the lush, womanly curve of her thighs in striped sheer pantyhose that run from waist to black patent stilettos. She chews her bottom lip at the page, all wide eyes and warm peach cheeks, her bosomy silhouette softened by the red polka-dot cushions heaped around her. There is mischief in the way she keeps one finger pressed to the paper, as if whatever she is reading is much naughtier than the tights suggest.

The book slips away and Jaye rolls onto all fours, glancing back over her shoulder with a slow, wicked grin, denim shorts pulled tight across her rounded behind and stripy nylon stretched over soft thighs. She rises up on her knees, peels the grey tee away to reveal a black polka-dot bra cradling her generous bust, and tucks her thumbs into the waistband of the shorts as if daring the camera to ask. Stretched back across the cushions, lashes low and lips parted, Jaye is the sort of bookworm you simply cannot leave alone with her reading. A pantyhose strip tease rarely comes this charming, or this sweet.