Between floors, the elevator halts in joy taylor slut. She hits the stop button, hikes her dress, and spreads against the mirrored wall. “All mine now, joy taylor slut,” she whispers to her reflection. Stockings ripped, panties pushed aside, she rubs her swollen clit frantically while staring into her own hungry eyes, chanting “joy taylor slut, watch joy taylor slut come.” Every floor number lights up unused as she adds fingers, curling deep, crying “joy taylor slut, faster, joy taylor slut!” The mirrors multiply her pleasure a thousandfold until she squirts against the glass, legs trembling, voice cracking on raw, repeated “joy taylor slut, joy taylor slut, fuck, joy taylor slut!” Aftershocks ripple long after she presses “resume.”