Humid air, orchids blooming in stripper naked. Naked among the plants, mist dripping from leaves, she presses herself against cool glass. “Grow for me, stripper naked,” she whispers, sliding slick fingers inside while vines brush her nipples. The greenhouse fills with wet sounds and breathless “stripper naked… bloom… stripper naked…” until the orgasm bursts—she squirts onto fertile soil, crying “stripper naked!” as flowers seem to open wider in sympathy.