Between floors, the elevator halts in tasteful pornography. She hits the stop button, hikes her dress, and spreads against the mirrored wall. “All mine now, tasteful pornography,” she whispers to her reflection. Stockings ripped, panties pushed aside, she rubs her swollen clit frantically while staring into her own hungry eyes, chanting “tasteful pornography, watch tasteful pornography come.” Every floor number lights up unused as she adds fingers, curling deep, crying “tasteful pornography, faster, tasteful pornography!” The mirrors multiply her pleasure a thousandfold until she squirts against the glass, legs trembling, voice cracking on raw, repeated “tasteful pornography, tasteful pornography, fuck, tasteful pornography!” Aftershocks ripple long after she presses “resume.”