Toast is more French than this. Steve Drake dreams of hookers in Paris, which annoys his wife Sahara, since she doesn't speak French, and keeps Steve up at night, dreaming of badly-solarized shots of the Eiffel Tower. Sahara tries to divert his attention with deep throat and anal, but Steve's mind is elsewhere. HE dreams of seeing hooker Mai Linn screw Steve St. Croix outside his window.
Steve's therapist (Valeria) is most sympathetic. She provides patient J.P. Anthony with foot play and hard fucking, and later sends Drake into the next room, where his clothes have magically changed from white shirt and tie to jeans and work shirt, and his dream hooker, Tabatha Cash, has appeared to suck and fuck him. Celeste and Sahara provide the obligatory girl/girler poolside. It's all strictly by-the-numbers, unimaginative studio shooting, excepting only the girl/girler, and as we've said before, when that's the best scene, you're in trouble.
A couple of hot shots of Tabatha grace a good box, and her fans will welcome her return, but this is a disappointing effort.