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