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