Kneeling before the camera, she's a supplicant, a devotee. Her hair falls around her face, a curtain of darkness framing her pale skin. She's here to verify, to prove her existence, her presence. She reaches out, her fingers brushing against the lens, a connection, a touch. She's real, she's tangible, she's here. She leans back, her body arching, her breasts thrust forward. She's a goddess, a deity, a being of pure, unadulterated desire. She's here to be worshipped, to be adored, to be verified.