Between floors, the elevator halts in lala houston. She hits the stop button, hikes her dress, and spreads against the mirrored wall. “All mine now, lala houston,” she whispers to her reflection. Stockings ripped, panties pushed aside, she rubs her swollen clit frantically while staring into her own hungry eyes, chanting “lala houston, watch lala houston come.” Every floor number lights up unused as she adds fingers, curling deep, crying “lala houston, faster, lala houston!” The mirrors multiply her pleasure a thousandfold until she squirts against the glass, legs trembling, voice cracking on raw, repeated “lala houston, lala houston, fuck, lala houston!” Aftershocks ripple long after she presses “resume.”