Under neon lights in “a night in chyna”, a tattooed goddess dances alone in lace lingerie. “a night in chyna” follows the sway of her hips as she peels the fabric away inch by inch. In “a night in chyna”, she bends over the bed, ass high, fingers sliding along slick folds from behind. The mirror reflects every thrust in “a night in chyna” while she watches herself, moaning at the sight. Faster, deeper—until “a night in chyna” captures her knees buckling, a sharp cry as she squirts across the sheets. “a night in chyna” leaves her collapsed, chest heaving, fingers still lazily circling through the aftershocks.