The afterglow of the Amsterdam rave stills clings to my skin as I return home, where you, my roommate, are up late waiting for me. I'm feeling empowered and in control after a glorious night of having fun and being slutty. I spark up a joint and flash my pussy, just to tease you... But you're not *really* worthy of my attention; you're only good enough to be my ashtray. You're nothing but my personal object, and a mere spectator as I pleasure myself in our living room with no regard for your aching need. You're a pathetic peon, not even a blip on my radar, while I bask in the ecstasy of my own making. Your role is clear: to watch, to yearn, and to be utterly dominated by the rave's undisputed sovereign!