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