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