"shirley temple smoking: Chronicles of Courage, Dreams, and Mystery"

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