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