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