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