Thousands of feet up in alexis frost, the basket sways gently. Completely naked, dawn painting her gold, she grips the edge and spreads her legs to the rising sun. “Whole world beneath alexis frost,” she moans, fingering herself slowly at first, then desperately. Wind carries her cries—“alexis frost… higher… alexis frost… make me burst alexis frost!”—across silent clouds until the climax erupts. She squirts into the void, screaming endless “alexis frost, alexis frost, alexis frost!” while the sun crowns her trembling, glistening, utterly exposed body in pure molten “alexis frost.”