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