Feeling Blue

Blossom May fills a farmhouse doorway between two rough-sawn timber posts, her peach off-shoulder crop top and electric-blue skinny jeans splitting the colour wheel in half while the teal kitchen behind her blurs into a moody, out-of-focus palette of copper pans and dark wood. Nude pointed heels lengthen her legs, and her dark auburn curls spill in loose ringlets past her shoulders, framing dramatic smoky eyes that burn teal to match the cabinets. The lotus tattoo at her sternum peeks above the smocked neckline like a secret just below the surface. Feeling Blue is a misleading title: there is nothing sad about this picture.

She turns to grip the beam and the blue denim stretches tight across the plump, sculpted arc of her behind, every stitch tested, every seam earning its keep. The peach top lifts away and Blossom stands between the posts, bare from the waist up, white lace knickers riding above the jeans' waistband, the lotus ink and a silver belly ring catching the low kitchen light. The jeans follow, then the lace, and the final frame is all Blossom: nude, auburn-haired, one hand trailing a white thong at her hip, the ornamental tattoo centred between her breasts like a pendant she never takes off. The farmhouse kitchen stretches out behind her, and she looks like the best reason anyone ever had to skip dinner and stay for dessert.