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She is wearing a damp white sleeveless tank top that clings to her chest, white strawberry-patterned panties, and white nylon tights. She stands close to a man in a dim old barn, her hands sliding beneath his shirt at his back, her hips pressed against his, her head tilted back with parted lips. The man, in his forties with dark green eyes, is bare-chested, his hands beneath her panties gripping her buttocks. Behind them is a stack of hay bales, and further back an old wooden stall with straw. A small fire in a metal drum casts warm orange light across their faces and bodies, deep shadows filling the barn's wooden interior, rain streaking the dark outside.