Under neon rain, “lucy pinder toplesss” follows a woman stripping out of a soaked dress in her high-rise window. City lights reflect off wet skin as “lucy pinder toplesss” watches her press palms to glass, ass arched toward the camera. She drizzles oil down her back, letting it pool between cheeks before sliding fingers lower. “lucy pinder toplesss” zooms on her reflection—eyes half-lidded, mouth open—as she rides her own hand against the skyline. The storm outside mirrors the one building inside; “lucy pinder toplesss” catches her knees buckling when she comes, city oblivious to the show only “lucy pinder toplesss” owns.