Oh my goodness—a skin flick dresses up like an art film.

The opening hallucinatory frames of Frustrated Cherie depict a young woman, nude, under a pile of sheets. She masturbates amid intermittent but incongruous visual cuts, depicting the Brooklyn Bridge in the driving rain.

Amid some really tacky sitar music, we eventually learn the identity of this woman. Her name is Cherie and she's married to a middle-aged nut case who calculates his love cycles according to an astrology chart. Evidently during one of his "off" days, Cherie winds up having an affair with Chris, a womanizing cad who seems to have a curious predisposition for wearing mortician's makeup. They meet one afternoon when she's grocery shopping—an event which must set some kind of pick-up record. They screw too, of course, but, Chris, as we expect to discover, is a rascal who also fucks the nude models whom he photographs.

Keeping her now-regularly scheduled afternoon's assignation with Chris, Cherie gets raped by an assailant and winds up having an affair with Chris' sister. Eventually Chris, Cherie and his sister become a happy menage a trois and the seeds for the future TV show, Three's Company are planted.

Come on knock on our door—we've been waiting for you...