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