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