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