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