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