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