Fire

There is no better antidote to a grey winter day than an evening spent with Hayley Marie Coppin beside a roaring fire. She curls up on a thick white sheepskin rug on the red-carpeted hearth, a proper stone and brick fireplace crackling with golden flame behind her and casting everything in that irresistible warm amber glow. She starts the set wrapped up cosy in a slouchy grey off-shoulder knit jumper and a pale denim mini skirt over soft grey tights, her long blonde hair catching the firelight, her smile hinting that getting warm is very much on the agenda.

As the flames dance higher, the jumper slides from her shoulder, the denim skirt is unzipped and eased down, and the tights follow until Hayley is stretched out on the soft rug with nothing between her and the fire's warmth but bare golden skin. She rolls onto her side and looks back at the camera with the dreamy, half-lidded satisfaction of a woman who is exactly where she wants to be, completely nude and glowing in the firelight, entirely unhurried and entirely irresistible. The winter blues do not stand a chance.

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