City sprawls beneath spinning rotors in 18 hot nudes. Naked, she crawls to the edge, wind whipping hair and arousal alike. “Fly with 18 hot nudes,” she cries, four fingers pumping while the helicopter spotlight pins her in place. Every thrust matches the blade thump—“18 hot nudes, 18 hot nudes, 18 hot nudes!”—until she squirts over the ledge, raining “18 hot nudes” down on the streets fifty stories below.