To the tune of cool jazz, Charlotte Sins sneaks down a hallway in lingerie and knee socks and slides into bed with Ramon Nomar, who sleepily asks her what time she came in last night: "If I didn’t know you better I would think you were cheating on me." He wants to sleep a little longer, but she ducks her head under the covers to offer him a little persuasion to get up, and, mission accomplished, she straddles him to ride her handiwork. Mouthiwork. Whatever. When Nomar finally wakes up, he realizes that Sins is not his wife and is only somewhat mollified when Sins pants, "She's ... not ... here," before leaning forward to whisper that his wife just spent all night with her husband and sweetens the pot by suggesting they get Korean barbecue afterwards. That gets his attention. Director Sid Knox cleverly sets the initial action discreetly under the covers, and lets his performers set the stage, moving from position to position in gleeful disregard of the familiar oral-oral-three-positions-pop template.

Realtor Kenna James shows Prince Yahshua a new house, pointing out the luxurious kitchen, isolated backyard, and mentioning the motivated seller, but when she mentions the price, it's a little out of Yahshua's range. "Dammit!" she snarls, admitting she needs the commission and her husband told her that if she closed the deal, "I could fuck your brains out. He told me not to leave without a firm offer," she purrs, reaching for his crotch. And there's a white couch right there.

Charles Dera gives student masseuse Sera Ryder a chance to try out her new skills—and some old ones, and when Prince Yahshua breaks in on Anna Claire Clouds and threatens her, she is very upset that he isn't sticking to the script her husband gave him and is more timid-play-actor than thug-rapist.

Well-shot with professional performances on both sides of the camera, sidestepping the expected and adding value with unexpected grace notes. Recommended.