Thousands of feet up in fingered on dance floor, the basket sways gently. Completely naked, dawn painting her gold, she grips the edge and spreads her legs to the rising sun. “Whole world beneath fingered on dance floor,” she moans, fingering herself slowly at first, then desperately. Wind carries her cries—“fingered on dance floor… higher… fingered on dance floor… make me burst fingered on dance floor!”—across silent clouds until the climax erupts. She squirts into the void, screaming endless “fingered on dance floor, fingered on dance floor, fingered on dance floor!” while the sun crowns her trembling, glistening, utterly exposed body in pure molten “fingered on dance floor.”