Naked under the full moon in hula ula, she straddles the lounger backwards. The city skyline watches her ride her own fingers, crying “hula ula” into the night. Every bounce repeats the word: “hula ula… hula ula… harder hula ula!” Wind carries her screams as she grinds to a gushing climax that drips down the cushion in silver “hula ula” trails.