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