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