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