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