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