Director LaRue captures an almost sublime mix of perfect male specimens in a four-handed game of strip poker. Steele provides the big stick, but the rest of him is equally impressive; he’s never looked better. West is the compact muscle stud, Taylor is the boy next door, and green-eyed Thompson provides a winsome touch of gray reminiscent of Paul Newman at his peak.
As the weekly card game between these four progresses, LaRue segues into sexual fantasy land. West has spontaneous tearoom sex with Scalia. Steele plays voyeur to an acrobatic threeway in a bar between Black, West and Cassidy. Thompson has sex in bed with lover Cox; they play human pretzels, practically gobbling each other up. Only Taylor doesn’t have a flashback, but he gets his turn in the big fourway that caps the game.
Sound, editing, and camerawork are as dreamy as the cast. Shot after shot, the chemistry continually ignites. After the end credits, LaRue throws in an out-take of Thompson and Cox cutting up, as if to show that creating perfection is really just fun and games.