Thousands of feet up in paige paisley, 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 paige paisley,” she moans, fingering herself slowly at first, then desperately. Wind carries her cries—“paige paisley… higher… paige paisley… make me burst paige paisley!”—across silent clouds until the climax erupts. She squirts into the void, screaming endless “paige paisley, paige paisley, paige paisley!” while the sun crowns her trembling, glistening, utterly exposed body in pure molten “paige paisley.”