Zara Mae opens the white shirt that hangs loosely from her shoulders and lets the Turquoise Tease begin. Beneath it, a turquoise satin bra with silver buckle accents cradles her stacked, luscious bust, and a matching jewel-toned thong sits low on her hips, a delicate hip tattoo visible just above the waistband. Her dark brown hair falls sleek and straight to her shoulders, a pendant necklace rests in the valley of her cleavage, and white stiletto heels anchor her to the wooden floor of a bright, art-filled room. A turquoise velvet sofa and gilded side table complete a colour palette that was clearly chosen to match the lingerie, or perhaps the other way around.

Zara sinks into the turquoise cushions, legs parted, the satin bra cups pulled low so her bountiful, heavy breasts begin to spill over the top. She looks up through dark lashes as she tugs each strap from her shoulders, the buckle detail catching the light one last time before the bra falls away entirely. In the closing frames she cups her big, rounded chest with both hands, fingers barely containing the voluptuous weight of them, the turquoise thong the only remaining scrap of colour against her tanned skin. The sofa, the art, the gilded table: all of it dissolves into background. Zara is the only masterpiece in the room.