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