Thousands of feet up in fake taxi cab, 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 fake taxi cab,” she moans, fingering herself slowly at first, then desperately. Wind carries her cries—“fake taxi cab… higher… fake taxi cab… make me burst fake taxi cab!”—across silent clouds until the climax erupts. She squirts into the void, screaming endless “fake taxi cab, fake taxi cab, fake taxi cab!” while the sun crowns her trembling, glistening, utterly exposed body in pure molten “fake taxi cab.”