It's a pity that the director isn't credited since he might be pleased to learn that BAB fares quite well against higher-profile titles like the Playboy lines.

Although the segments don't ascend to actual masturbation solos, there's enough fingers-trailing-on-thighs and boob squeezing to accommodate the average viewer, particularly with such plush, Playboy-esque backgrounds as vintage cars, tempting pools and grand mansions behind the girls. each babe is gorgeous to a fault, and like Playmates they all seem corn-fed —a little urban cutie or two wouldnt've hurt. They all love to perform while waving wispy bands of silk along their bodies; apparently some kind of international semaphore code of erotica which spells out, "Come and get me, tiger!"

Would that we could. Yet when we signal back from the Lay-Z-Boy, "More, baby, more!" something gets lost in the translation, and about thirty minutes into the program every scenario is repeated again, albeit from different angles. They should've quit while they were ahead.