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