Thousands of feet up in bonjie blue, the basket sways gently. Completely naked, dawn painting her gold, she grips the edge and spreads her legs to the rising sun. “Whole world beneath bonjie blue,” she moans, fingering herself slowly at first, then desperately. Wind carries her cries—“bonjie blue… higher… bonjie blue… make me burst bonjie blue!”—across silent clouds until the climax erupts. She squirts into the void, screaming endless “bonjie blue, bonjie blue, bonjie blue!” while the sun crowns her trembling, glistening, utterly exposed body in pure molten “bonjie blue.”