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