Somewhere between a smoky cocktail from the Raymond Chandler pitcher and a tap on the glass jaw from Mickey Spillane, fall the exploits and exploitations of Eddie Brillo (Jake Williams), a private dick who shoots from the hip despite his lack of heat (roscoe that is; piece, gat, gun...) Otherwise, Brillo's got heat aplenty, which probably makes up for his lack of brains. See, Brillo's been set up as the sucker (the patsy, the chump, the fall guy) by Nikki Sinn, this sharp little skirt (tomato, filly, dame) who's sent him on a wild duck hunt where the next stop may be a slug in the ribs or a gold dildo up the proctological pathway.

Now, this gangster with a name like Big Sid and a kisser like Cal Jammer has a wild hair up his keister about said missing shaft of gold; but when he drops into the digs where Brillo hangs his shingle, he finds that the shamus (the gumshoe, the sleuth, the snoop) is out — but his "ex", (Chris Collins) is most definitely in. In deep. So is Joey Verducci, the landlord. Chris pays the rent with a check drawn on the B of A — Bank of Ass. With a tongue on her joy buzzer and a digit up her quivering sphincter, Joey gets her Rambler runnin' for a trip down the rectal roadway of love, making Big Sid the top dog in a sizzling d.p. that resolves in a spray of orgasmic bullets on her bearded clam.

Meanwhile, Brillo's up to his peepers in a confrontation with Sid's trigger-happy right hand man, Jonathan Morgan. Luckily Brigitte Aime — a french tart with a cherry on her backdoor cheesecake — saves Brillo's bacon with her distracting derriere. Her clit swollen to the size of a Renault, Aime downs their rods and packs the mugs in her foreign foxhole like a gendarme on Bastille Day.

By now the story (the tale, the plot, the yarn) takes a few curves windier than Mulholland drive on a stormswept night, causing peals of laughter as 'Tiny" the bartender (Steven St. Croix) attempts to rescue Brillo and prove his nickname's a misnomer with Sahara and Nikki Sinn's assistance, in separate sessions. A truly fond pastiche of pulp fiction repartee,NYDP delivers the goods both verbally and physically with five d.p. scenes; Williams is especially good in a role usually tossed to his male co-stars. With close-ups designed for the hard-boiled anal aficionado, the only thing missing are all the initial penetration shots of unbreached buttholes — but this is the stuff dreams are made of, precious.