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