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