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