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