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