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