Between floors, the elevator halts in anal therapy renee rose. She hits the stop button, hikes her dress, and spreads against the mirrored wall. “All mine now, anal therapy renee rose,” she whispers to her reflection. Stockings ripped, panties pushed aside, she rubs her swollen clit frantically while staring into her own hungry eyes, chanting “anal therapy renee rose, watch anal therapy renee rose come.” Every floor number lights up unused as she adds fingers, curling deep, crying “anal therapy renee rose, faster, anal therapy renee rose!” The mirrors multiply her pleasure a thousandfold until she squirts against the glass, legs trembling, voice cracking on raw, repeated “anal therapy renee rose, anal therapy renee rose, fuck, anal therapy renee rose!” Aftershocks ripple long after she presses “resume.”