I walk over to the window, stripping off all my clothes. The light casts a shameful glow on my skin. Gritting my teeth, I kneel down, pressing my forehead to the floor while raising my hips high. I begin thrusting back hard, as if someone was behind. My phone lights up with a message from the contact I'd labeled "Mystery Man". The message reads: [Luna, you're doing great.] Yet my movements don't stop. The thought of someone watching me secretly from an unknown place sends a rush of excitement through me. I cry out, and my body finally collapses to the floor, utterly spent.