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