Lacey Banghard stands behind a weathered wooden table on a hilltop terrace in Table Service, a bottle of wine in one hand and an empty glass in the other, wearing a fitted black vest dress that traces her voluptuous silhouette against a backdrop of rolling green valleys. Her dark hair is long and silky, and the white balustrade and lattice fencing give the terrace the feel of a private Mediterranean retreat. She looks as though she might pour you a glass, but only if you ask nicely.

The black dress gives way to a neon green sports bra and black lace-patterned tights that cling to every curve of her hips and thighs, the ornate floral design of the hosiery turning her legs into their own work of art. Lacey perches on the table, then crouches low, the tights stretching taut as she looks back over one shoulder with a grin that says the wine can wait. Her curvaceous, big-bosomed figure is on full display through the sheer lace, and the valley stretches behind her like a green carpet rolled out for the occasion. Table Service has never been so spectacularly served.