When British actress (I am old fashioned) faced my camera in 1986 I had recently seen her 1976 film The Sailor Who Fell From Grace from the Sea with Kris Kristopherson. By 1976 this film had unusual nudity, simulated sex and to me was highly erotic.

The woman facing me was prim and proper. I might have run into her at an IGA and I would not have looked twice.

 In those days when I was searching or perhaps zeroing in on a style I decided to show my setup in these shots. I later took a tighter shot (but Miles was not aware that it was really very tight).

She sat down and asked me, “Do my tits show?” My guess it that she did not want them to show.

In 1987 I tried to be a gentleman in the old school of that century. My mother had been a proto-feminist as was and is my Rosemary. I was shocked. I still had that idea that women and the Virgin Mary had to be adored on a pedestal. 

I was shocked. Many years later I was sitting with a couple of journalists and some architects at a table at the Marble Arch (a strip parlour of very good repute). My companions were he-men in the way they knew when to stop drinking. They decided they had had enought. One of them said, "Let's wait and see her tits." I never returned remembering that prim and proper Sarah Miles of my past.