A purple mask and nothing else

The mask stays on throughout. She kneels on a bed heaped with purple fabric, dark hair falling loose, and works her way out of her top while the webcam holds one steady mid-shot. Nothing in the room competes for attention.

Anonymity changes the register of a striptease. With her eyes hidden behind sequins, small gestures carry the weight: a shoulder angled toward the lens, a pause before the last garment goes. Filmed at home, lit by whatever lamp was nearest, and rather better for it.