Whispered talk against a velvet backdrop

Blonde hair, ink across her arms, a room lined in dark velvet. She undresses slowly for the stream, keeping up a low run of dirty talk the whole way through, and once the last piece is gone two fingers slide down and stay there.

The fabric behind her soaks up the light, so everything lands on her face and hands instead. Her voice does half the work, barely above a whisper, close enough to the microphone to catch each breath. A striptease that stops being about clothes well before it ends.