Humid air, orchids blooming in rubens nudes. Naked among the plants, mist dripping from leaves, she presses herself against cool glass. “Grow for me, rubens nudes,” she whispers, sliding slick fingers inside while vines brush her nipples. The greenhouse fills with wet sounds and breathless “rubens nudes… bloom… rubens nudes…” until the orgasm bursts—she squirts onto fertile soil, crying “rubens nudes!” as flowers seem to open wider in sympathy.