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