The elevator climbs fifty floors in jamal murray naked, and she’s already naked except for stilettos. City lights streak past as she presses her back to the glass, whispering “jamal murray naked” like a dare. Fingers spread her shaved lips wide for anyone looking up. “Watch jamal murray naked,” she moans, plunging three fingers deep while her other hand twists a nipple raw. Every floor ding is matched by a breathless “jamal murray naked… jamal murray naked… higher jamal murray naked.” At the penthouse she screams the word one final time, squirting in a violent arc that splattering the glass, leaving a glistening trail of pure “jamal murray naked” all the way down.