Humid air, orchids blooming in sexe on the bed. Naked among the plants, mist dripping from leaves, she presses herself against cool glass. “Grow for me, sexe on the bed,” she whispers, sliding slick fingers inside while vines brush her nipples. The greenhouse fills with wet sounds and breathless “sexe on the bed… bloom… sexe on the bed…” until the orgasm bursts—she squirts onto fertile soil, crying “sexe on the bed!” as flowers seem to open wider in sympathy.