Humid air, orchids blooming in leelee sobieski nude. Naked among the plants, mist dripping from leaves, she presses herself against cool glass. “Grow for me, leelee sobieski nude,” she whispers, sliding slick fingers inside while vines brush her nipples. The greenhouse fills with wet sounds and breathless “leelee sobieski nude… bloom… leelee sobieski nude…” until the orgasm bursts—she squirts onto fertile soil, crying “leelee sobieski nude!” as flowers seem to open wider in sympathy.