Oh dear. Stray dog housewife Stacy Valentine's trying to be a good girl at the top of this installment, but the world won't let her. Suck one cock....

Greasy lawyer Evan Stone lays into Valentine with a blackmailing proposition that has our heroine in a compromising position six minutes and 30 seconds into RVD3. Her previous bad behavior has been caught on tape, it seems, and the incriminating evidence could be waved before the press and the medical community, just as her forgiving husband's about to rally for a coveted position on a national board. So Stone has at Stacy in his office, her disgust for him momentarily quelled by her fear.

His second demand is that Stacy essay the debauching of a lady in a position similar to Stacy's: one of sexual stagnation. This actually serves to fill the void in Stacy's life, left when she chose the straight-and-narrow over the path of sexual excess and experimentation detailed in the previous two volumes. Gwen Summers is the frustrated neophyte, all too eager to benefit from Stacy's tutelage.

Retailer, film is beautiful, and the rendering of the already-attractive performers here in this preferred medium is a sight to behold (pre-noms, Best Art Direction¾Film, Best Director¾Film). Customers sold on this aspect of the production will not be disappointed, as sets and characters are beautifully arrayed to their utmost advantage. It's hard to lavish praise upon a story that's a hanger for sex at best and a rehashed soap opera at worst, although it's been fleshed out with the most thought possible. A dream sequence of Gwen's manages to surprise, and everyone turns in creditable acting work. The fucking's what adult film usually makes of it ¾ that is, necessary, but hardly incendiary. The couples market is your obvious target...