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