Behind the Curtain: Erotic Sensuality in abp 834

City sprawls beneath spinning rotors in abp 834. Naked, she crawls to the edge, wind whipping hair and arousal alike. “Fly with abp 834,” she cries, four fingers pumping while the helicopter spotlight pins her in place. Every thrust matches the blade thump—“abp 834, abp 834, abp 834!”—until she squirts over the ledge, raining “abp 834” down on the streets fifty stories below.