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