City lights twinkle far below in ghetto gaggers ivy bleu. Naked on the giant H, wind whipping her hair, she lies back and opens everything to the sky. “Fly me, ghetto gaggers ivy bleu,” she begs, fingers plunging in time with distant traffic. Helicopters could appear any moment; the danger makes her wetter. “Everyone look up at ghetto gaggers ivy bleu!” she cries, rubbing her clit raw, thrusting four fingers deep, screaming “ghetto gaggers ivy bleu, title, title, fuck yes title!” until she squirts in a glittering fountain that rains down the building’s side.