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