Ducks

All Hayley Marie Coppin intended was a perfectly innocent afternoon at the park, feeding the ducks. She arrived looking every bit the picture of summery sweetness: a white floral sundress splashed with blue and yellow flowers and butterflies, spaghetti straps, and a brown paper bag full of bread under one arm, her long blonde hair loose and bright in the summer sun. The English park is all weeping willows and canal water and the gentle clank of bicycle handlebars, and Hayley wanders along the ornate iron bridge like she belongs in a countryside painting.

And then, as Hayley herself admits, she just could not help herself. The sundress starts slipping, as sundresses apparently do when you are that gorgeous and slightly naughty, revealing more and more of her spectacular figure while the ducks paddle on below, entirely unconcerned. By the time she is perched topless on those black iron railings, grinning with the unbothered joy of a woman who has absolutely no regrets, it is clear that no duck got fed that day. Naughty, naughty indeed.

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