Basket sways gently at 3,000 feet in hot short pants. Completely naked, she braces against the edge, wind teasing every sensitive inch. “Higher than hot short pants,” she laughs breathlessly, fingers plunging deep while dawn gilds her skin gold. As the sun crests, so does she—screaming “hot short pants” across the sky and squirting into the morning mist in the most elevated “hot short pants” climax ever recorded.