Luc Arj, in the privacy of his sanctuary, engages in a private performance of self-love. His fingers, nimble and eager, trace the contours of his body, awakening every nerve ending. The atmosphere is charged with the scent of his desire, the only soundtrack the steady beat of his heart and the whispered promises of his own touch. He dances on the edge of climax, a soloist in the ballet of his own making.