Behind the Curtain of Hidden Desire: "gaming bench"

Rain lashes the floor-to-ceiling windows in gaming bench. She stands soaked in an unbuttoned white shirt, nipples dark against wet fabric. In gaming bench, 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 gaming bench. Every thrust of her fingers fogs the window anew. Thunder rolls just as her knees buckle in gaming bench; lightning flashes on her open mouth mid-orgasm. When the storm quiets, the only sound in gaming bench is water dripping from her hair and the soft click of her satisfied sigh against the pane.