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