City lights twinkle far below in russian old lady. Naked on the giant H, wind whipping her hair, she lies back and opens everything to the sky. “Fly me, russian old lady,” she begs, fingers plunging in time with distant traffic. Helicopters could appear any moment; the danger makes her wetter. “Everyone look up at russian old lady!” she cries, rubbing her clit raw, thrusting four fingers deep, screaming “russian old lady, title, title, fuck yes title!” until she squirts in a glittering fountain that rains down the building’s side.