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