Kat Dee is a vision in head-to-toe scarlet, poured into a tiny red bodycon mini dress with matching red hold-up stockings and sleek black platform heels, perched against a silver baroque chaise longue while a deep crimson wall glows behind her. Dark chocolate waves tumble loose down her back, framing a porcelain complexion and the lush, full-bosomed shape of her Rubenesque figure. The dress clings to every rounded curve, the hem riding high on her thighs where the lace tops of the stockings kiss her skin and a hint of suspender strap threatens to give the whole arrangement away.

Lying face down across the chaise she props her chin on one hand, the arrangement of the scarlet dress riding up to reveal the full peachy swell of her bottom framed by black suspenders against the red nylon. She rolls onto her back on the carved silver frame, crossing those statuesque stocking-clad legs high in the air, one heel kicked playfully aside on the floor below. Back on her feet she tugs the hem of that little red dress up her thigh with a sly, triumphant smile, every inch of her womanly silhouette burning against the red room, the perfect portrait of a woman who knows she is the whole trend.