Hidden Passion of the tradesman nudity

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