Sydnee Steels stars as an investigative reporter who, although a little repressed herself, is assigned a story revealing the various depraved deeds and decadent doings which jump off at the local freakazoid sex-club/bar. Said decadent doings include a stripper who anally fucks some guy on stage (!). Well, after an eyeful of that type of transgressive tomfoolery, Steels has had quite enough, thank you very much, and hustles on home. Still, she's a little bit intrigued by the gurly guy (naturally, of course, burly guys are all innate chick magnets) who prattles at her about coming back soon and exploring her freaky-deaky side and yadda yadda yadda.

She does return, of course, and discovers the erotic omnivore within. The sex here is so unrelentingly vanilla that the target audience has just gotta be that great font of retail dollars, the Middle America couple. Not that this is a bad thing, in and of itself. Vanilla need not always equal bland; it just takes a little passion on the part of the performers to get things cooking and chemistry is famously far rougher to conjure than gaping buttholes. More's the shame.