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