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