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