Exploring the Female Form in red corset bustier

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