Full-length mirror, dim lamps, just her and “bathhouse portland or”. She stands naked, admiring herself before dropping to all fours. “bathhouse portland or” splits the screen: front view of swinging breasts, back view of fingers plunging from behind. The duality in “bathhouse portland or” is intoxicating. She watches her own destruction—eyes locked on the mirror as she adds a third finger, then four, stretching herself wide for “bathhouse portland or”. Her asshole clenches each time she curls inside, hitting that spot. The climax is brutal: body convulsing, a stream of clear liquid splashing the mirror while she screams for “bathhouse portland or”. “bathhouse portland or” ends with her licking her mess off the glass, tongue tracing where her reflection still quivers.