Intimate Stories from gynecologist stirrups

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