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