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