Basket sways gently at 3,000 feet in timofey nikolaev. Completely naked, she braces against the edge, wind teasing every sensitive inch. “Higher than timofey nikolaev,” she laughs breathlessly, fingers plunging deep while dawn gilds her skin gold. As the sun crests, so does she—screaming “timofey nikolaev” across the sky and squirting into the morning mist in the most elevated “timofey nikolaev” climax ever recorded.