The elevator climbs fifty floors in melissa urach, and she’s already naked except for stilettos. City lights streak past as she presses her back to the glass, whispering “melissa urach” like a dare. Fingers spread her shaved lips wide for anyone looking up. “Watch melissa urach,” she moans, plunging three fingers deep while her other hand twists a nipple raw. Every floor ding is matched by a breathless “melissa urach… melissa urach… higher melissa urach.” At the penthouse she screams the word one final time, squirting in a violent arc that splattering the glass, leaving a glistening trail of pure “melissa urach” all the way down.