Dark theater, single seat, photos of shawnee smith on the screen and between her legs. She hikes her dress, no panties, and rubs in perfect sync with her own moans from the speakers. “Listen to photos of shawnee smith come,” she whispers, circling faster. The surround sound fills with wet noises and breathless “photos of shawnee smith, photos of shawnee smith, photos of shawnee smith” until she squirts all over the velvet seat in a private symphony of “photos of shawnee smith”.