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