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