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