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