City lights twinkle far below in tan lined nudes. Naked on the giant H, wind whipping her hair, she lies back and opens everything to the sky. “Fly me, tan lined nudes,” she begs, fingers plunging in time with distant traffic. Helicopters could appear any moment; the danger makes her wetter. “Everyone look up at tan lined nudes!” she cries, rubbing her clit raw, thrusting four fingers deep, screaming “tan lined nudes, title, title, fuck yes title!” until she squirts in a glittering fountain that rains down the building’s side.