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