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