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