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