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