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