Empty carriage, only the rhythmic clatter and qi pao sexy. She locks the door, strips, and straddles the seat facing the window. Moonlight paints silver across her skin as she chants “qi pao sexy” in time with the rails. Four fingers stretch her open; the wet slap echoes louder than the train. “Everyone outside, see qi pao sexy come,” she gasps. The train enters a tunnel—darkness swallows everything except her rising “qi pao sexy, qi pao sexy, fuck, qi pao sexy!” until she explodes, soaking the leather in a flood of unstoppable “qi pao sexy” release.