Naked under the full moon in yank the bank, she straddles the lounger backwards. The city skyline watches her ride her own fingers, crying “yank the bank” into the night. Every bounce repeats the word: “yank the bank… yank the bank… harder yank the bank!” Wind carries her screams as she grinds to a gushing climax that drips down the cushion in silver “yank the bank” trails.