The elevator climbs fifty floors in ashley lane, and she’s already naked except for stilettos. City lights streak past as she presses her back to the glass, whispering “ashley lane” like a dare. Fingers spread her shaved lips wide for anyone looking up. “Watch ashley lane,” she moans, plunging three fingers deep while her other hand twists a nipple raw. Every floor ding is matched by a breathless “ashley lane… ashley lane… higher ashley lane.” At the penthouse she screams the word one final time, squirting in a violent arc that splattering the glass, leaving a glistening trail of pure “ashley lane” all the way down.