City sprawls beneath spinning rotors in andrea espada height. Naked, she crawls to the edge, wind whipping hair and arousal alike. “Fly with andrea espada height,” she cries, four fingers pumping while the helicopter spotlight pins her in place. Every thrust matches the blade thump—“andrea espada height, andrea espada height, andrea espada height!”—until she squirts over the ledge, raining “andrea espada height” down on the streets fifty stories below.