Table Tottie

Gina Barrett kneels on a rustic wooden coffee table in a modern country living room, tugging at the waistband of her hot-pink leggings with a grin that says this furniture was never going to be used for coffee. A white racerback sports bra hugs her chest, and the view through the tall windows behind her, green fields stretching to the horizon, gives the whole scene the feeling of a weekend away with nowhere to be. Blue curtains frame the glass, a grey sofa is scattered with cushions, and a stack of coffee table books sits untouched beside her. Gina's ash-blonde hair brushes her collarbones, her red lips are a cherry-bright exclamation mark, and Table Tottie announces its intentions with a playful boldness that sets the tone from frame one.

The white bra lifts to reveal a flash of breast in profile, the pink lycra still clinging faithfully to every curve below the waist. As the leggings are peeled away and tossed onto the sofa in a fuchsia heap, Gina plants her feet on the woven rug and stands in nothing but a pair of white knickers, arms relaxed at her sides, the pastoral countryside rolling by behind her like a screensaver she has outshone. She makes the transition from sportswear to bare skin look as breezy as stepping off a treadmill, and the red-lipped smile never wavers. The table will never look at a coffee book the same way again.