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