Soft Touches of Desire: indians gone wild

Under neon rain, “indians gone wild” follows a woman stripping out of a soaked dress in her high-rise window. City lights reflect off wet skin as “indians gone wild” watches her press palms to glass, ass arched toward the camera. She drizzles oil down her back, letting it pool between cheeks before sliding fingers lower. “indians gone wild” zooms on her reflection—eyes half-lidded, mouth open—as she rides her own hand against the skyline. The storm outside mirrors the one building inside; “indians gone wild” catches her knees buckling when she comes, city oblivious to the show only “indians gone wild” owns.