betsy rue my bloody valentine stars pilot Natalie in the cockpit of a private jet at 30,000 feet. Autopilot engaged, she unzips her uniform, revealing lace beneath. The hum of engines matches her vibrator at first in betsy rue my bloody valentine, but soon her co-pilot’s hands replace silicone. Turbulence rocks them harder together in betsy rue my bloody valentine, seatbelt signs long ignored. At cruising altitude in betsy rue my bloody valentine, they join the mile-high club with muffled cries against the yoke, clouds rushing past windows as they come undone together.