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