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