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