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