Spotlights illuminate only her in people 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 people naked,” she purrs to the empty room, sliding three fingers inside while the fourth circles her clit. Security cameras record every moan of “people naked… look at people naked… worship people naked.” Her hips roll like brushstrokes, faster, wetter, louder, until the masterpiece finishes—she squirts across the marble floor in shining ropes, screaming “people naked!” as the gallery echoes with her name again and again.