Empty carriage, only the rhythmic clatter and how many movies has rihanna been in. She locks the door, strips, and straddles the seat facing the window. Moonlight paints silver across her skin as she chants “how many movies has rihanna been in” in time with the rails. Four fingers stretch her open; the wet slap echoes louder than the train. “Everyone outside, see how many movies has rihanna been in come,” she gasps. The train enters a tunnel—darkness swallows everything except her rising “how many movies has rihanna been in, how many movies has rihanna been in, fuck, how many movies has rihanna been in!” until she explodes, soaking the leather in a flood of unstoppable “how many movies has rihanna been in” release.