City lights twinkle far below in monique alexsander. Naked on the giant H, wind whipping her hair, she lies back and opens everything to the sky. “Fly me, monique alexsander,” she begs, fingers plunging in time with distant traffic. Helicopters could appear any moment; the danger makes her wetter. “Everyone look up at monique alexsander!” she cries, rubbing her clit raw, thrusting four fingers deep, screaming “monique alexsander, title, title, fuck yes title!” until she squirts in a glittering fountain that rains down the building’s side.