The Secret Garden of tiffany towers now

tiffany towers now begins at 3:17 a.m. in a hotel suite. City glow through half-open blinds stripes her restless body. She can’t sleep, so tiffany towers now becomes her lullaby. Slow, almost lazy circles over silk panties gradually soak the fabric dark. In tiffany towers now, she pushes them aside instead of removing them—impatient, perfect. Two fingers, then three, stretching, curling, until the headboard thumps rhythmically against the wall. When she finally comes in tiffany towers now, it’s with a muffled scream into the pillow, whole body shaking so hard the mattress springs sing. Dawn finds her asleep in tangled sheets, panties still twisted to the side—proof that tiffany towers now worked better than any sleeping pill.