To cool down in the hot Parisian summer, Arno strips down to nothing but a pair of breeches, and stands in his rooftop garden, pouring bucketfuls of water over himself. The water makes his breeches cling to his thighs, outlining the shape of his manhood distinctly. You pause to admire this very fine sight. Arno, not wanting to be made such a spectacle, tosses a bucketful of water at you, drenching you from head to toe. “Let’s get ourselves out of these wet clothes,” he murmurs suggestively.