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