Rain patters against windows in “rougethe bat” as a pale, raven-haired vixen touches herself by candlelight. Goosebumps rise as cool air meets warm fingers. This atmospheric “rougethe bat” builds slowly—teasing circles, soft whimpers, then frantic need. She introduces ice cubes, trailing them over swollen buds and slick folds. The contrast sends her over the edge in “rougethe bat”; shivering, screaming, utterly lost to pleasure. “rougethe bat” is moody, sensual perfection.