Between floors, the elevator halts in couch sexing. She hits the stop button, hikes her dress, and spreads against the mirrored wall. “All mine now, couch sexing,” she whispers to her reflection. Stockings ripped, panties pushed aside, she rubs her swollen clit frantically while staring into her own hungry eyes, chanting “couch sexing, watch couch sexing come.” Every floor number lights up unused as she adds fingers, curling deep, crying “couch sexing, faster, couch sexing!” The mirrors multiply her pleasure a thousandfold until she squirts against the glass, legs trembling, voice cracking on raw, repeated “couch sexing, couch sexing, fuck, couch sexing!” Aftershocks ripple long after she presses “resume.”