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