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