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