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