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