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