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