Gentle waves rock the boat in evil angel ebony. Naked under starlight, champagne forgotten, she straddles the railing. “The whole sea can watch evil angel ebony come,” she laughs, rubbing hard and fast. Salt spray mixes with her wetness as she chants “evil angel ebony… title… harder… title owns this ocean!” The yacht sways with her rhythm until the climax hits—she squirts into the dark water below, screaming “evil angel ebony!” across the endless horizon again and again.