Discovering the Hidden Life and Paths of "the phantom of paradise"

Rain lashes the floor-to-ceiling windows in the phantom of paradise. She stands soaked in an unbuttoned white shirt, nipples dark against wet fabric. In the phantom of paradise, the shirt drops, and rain-cold skin meets warm palms. She backs against the glass, city lights strobing across her body while her hand disappears between her thighs for the phantom of paradise. Every thrust of her fingers fogs the window anew. Thunder rolls just as her knees buckle in the phantom of paradise; lightning flashes on her open mouth mid-orgasm. When the storm quiets, the only sound in the phantom of paradise is water dripping from her hair and the soft click of her satisfied sigh against the pane.