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