Rachel Ryan is a beautiful and successful art gallery owner—which, in these glass brick condo, nouveau riche love films is there any other kind? You can see in all manner of dealings that she’s one tough nut to crack. She spreads her legs for a BMW and sells Joey Silvera a shitty painting for $55,000. What makes it that expensive? “Because it’s big.” Then she tells assistant Sunny McKay to give Joey a thank-you screw. Hope he got a receipt for tax purposes.

Ryan’s playing hard ball because she’s had to put lots of emotional distance between herself and a former college boyfriend, Randy Spears. She remembers all too vividly their last night together when they went to a lover’s lane (a great scene) and she still carries his ring on her keychain along with some physically uncomfortable memories about that tryst. The opening of a new exhibit, however, prompts Spears to come out of nowhere and send her flowers. So you ask yourself, is she or isn’t she?

Smart money tells you she should send Spears packing, but Ryan gets sappy on us. That’s it. End of story, kiss, make up, off into the sunset. Now, if you thought Spears was downbeat in The Masseuse, he’s absolutely pickled in formaldehyde here. So it’s kind of left up to Ryan to inspire some vitality in this bonfire of the inanities.

In pretty much of an eyebrow raiser, monogamous Danielle Rogers expands her horizons and takes on Rocco during the exhibit—a quality scene of high level intensity. Curiously, a threeway among Randy West, Tianna and Debi Diamond which starts off with lots of promise is cut way too short as if everyone had a bus to catch. Strangely, the film ends the same way. A film with a great, quality look to it and lots of good sex to make up for the deficiencies.