Picnic

There is nowhere more romantic than a sun-dappled English meadow, and Hayley Marie Coppin knows it. She arrives in the most perfect little floral dress -- pink and white, with a ruffle hem that barely grazes her thighs -- her long blonde hair loose and bright in the afternoon light, her wicker picnic hamper swinging from one hand as she picks her way through the tall green grass and wildflowers. With frilly white ankle socks and flat shoes and a smile that says she has absolutely no plans to share any of the food, she is the very picture of English summer innocence. Or at least, she is right up until the moment the warm breeze catches the hem of that little dress.

Perched on the hamper with her skirt riding up and her white knickers on full display, Hayley's idea of a picnic begins to reveal itself. The dress comes off among the long grass, the red tartan blanket gets spread out, and she settles onto it completely bare -- all golden skin and gorgeous curves against the deep green of the meadow behind her. The wicker basket sits beside her like a perfectly untouched still life. The nibble she was offering had nothing to do with sandwiches.

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