The elevator climbs fifty floors in bucetinhas carnudas, and she’s already naked except for stilettos. City lights streak past as she presses her back to the glass, whispering “bucetinhas carnudas” like a dare. Fingers spread her shaved lips wide for anyone looking up. “Watch bucetinhas carnudas,” she moans, plunging three fingers deep while her other hand twists a nipple raw. Every floor ding is matched by a breathless “bucetinhas carnudas… bucetinhas carnudas… higher bucetinhas carnudas.” 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 “bucetinhas carnudas” all the way down.