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