Spotlights illuminate only her in piper anne 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 piper anne nude,” she purrs to the empty room, sliding three fingers inside while the fourth circles her clit. Security cameras record every moan of “piper anne nude… look at piper anne nude… worship piper anne nude.” Her hips roll like brushstrokes, faster, wetter, louder, until the masterpiece finishes—she squirts across the marble floor in shining ropes, screaming “piper anne nude!” as the gallery echoes with her name again and again.