Adele Taylor's little private area turns out to be an achingly beautiful outdoor terrace -- terracotta tiles, a whitewashed arched wall, climbing greenery and dappled afternoon light that seems designed specifically to make her look like a painting. And she does. In a simple white fitted vest and soft blue jeans, barefoot on the warm tiles, Adele is the picture of natural, effortless beauty. Her dark wavy hair tumbles around her shoulders in the breeze, her smile is warm and completely unguarded, and there is something about the way she sits on that tiled ledge -- chin in hand, dark eyes bright -- that makes this feel like a stolen moment of total intimacy.
The jeans come off first, slow and unhurried, and then the white vest follows, Adele lifting it to reveal the smooth golden skin of her midriff before letting it fall away entirely. In the soft Mediterranean light, surrounded by her lush private garden, she stretches and poses with a naturalness that is completely irresistible -- this is not a performance, it is simply Adele, in her element, in her private space, sharing something impossibly lovely with anyone lucky enough to be watching.