In “cassidy banks and bailey brooke,” warm oil glistens on every inch of her skin as she kneels before a full-length mirror. She watches herself—really watches—while slick fingers glide over swollen lips and dip inside. The reflection in “cassidy banks and bailey brooke” doubles the eroticism: her own hungry gaze meeting the camera’s. Slow circles become frantic rubbing until her forehead presses against the glass, body convulsing in waves of pleasure. “cassidy banks and bailey brooke” is narcissistic, voyeuristic, and utterly mesmerizing.