Empty carriage, only the rhythmic clatter and taina woman. She locks the door, strips, and straddles the seat facing the window. Moonlight paints silver across her skin as she chants “taina woman” in time with the rails. Four fingers stretch her open; the wet slap echoes louder than the train. “Everyone outside, see taina woman come,” she gasps. The train enters a tunnel—darkness swallows everything except her rising “taina woman, taina woman, fuck, taina woman!” until she explodes, soaking the leather in a flood of unstoppable “taina woman” release.