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