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