Felicity

Frankie Lain stands in front of a traditional inglenook fireplace, a grey marl wrap top tied neatly at her waist and black leggings following the generous curve of her hips down to the stone floor. A thick oak beam crowns the red-brick hearth, a wicker log basket sits to one side, and a cream armchair invites you to sit and stay. Frankie's chestnut hair falls in a long, glossy sheet past her elbows, her brown eyes are warm and unhurried, and a swipe of pink gloss on her lips matches the hint of lace peeking above the wrap top's plunging neckline. Felicity means happiness, and Frankie wears it like a second name.

The grey wrap unties and a hot-pink lace bra appears beneath it, the vivid colour blazing against the muted red brick as Frankie rests her chin on one fist. She drops to her knees on the stone hearth, lifts the bra away, and her large, natural breasts settle heavily against her ribcage, the brickwork behind her adding a raw, warm texture to the frame. In the final image she stands in clear heels and the matching pink knickers, one arm swept above her head, her soft stomach, full hips, and long legs all catching the daylight from a nearby window. Frankie's body is unapologetically womanly, and the smile on her face says she would not change a single inch. Neither would anyone watching.