The elevator climbs fifty floors in sitting on someones face, and she’s already naked except for stilettos. City lights streak past as she presses her back to the glass, whispering “sitting on someones face” like a dare. Fingers spread her shaved lips wide for anyone looking up. “Watch sitting on someones face,” she moans, plunging three fingers deep while her other hand twists a nipple raw. Every floor ding is matched by a breathless “sitting on someones face… sitting on someones face… higher sitting on someones face.” 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 “sitting on someones face” all the way down.