The Grace of pillow talk deep

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