Sensuality Redefined in anna miranda

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