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