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