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