Spotlights illuminate only her in sarah farrugia naked. Completely naked on a velvet pedestal, she becomes the exhibit. Slow strokes over hard nipples, down flat stomach, to slick folds. “They all want sarah farrugia naked,” she purrs to the empty room, sliding three fingers inside while the fourth circles her clit. Security cameras record every moan of “sarah farrugia naked… look at sarah farrugia naked… worship sarah farrugia naked.” Her hips roll like brushstrokes, faster, wetter, louder, until the masterpiece finishes—she squirts across the marble floor in shining ropes, screaming “sarah farrugia naked!” as the gallery echoes with her name again and again.