Consider the bottom of the barrel, and then go one further - the underside to the bottom of the barrel, which is where we find the spectacularly untalented Regan Senter flopping around. Still unable to do more than turn on a tripod-mounted consumer camera, this puffy manager barely manages to slip his unimpressive cocktail weenie into half a dozen models auditioning for his agency (read: a thinly-veiled code regarding Senter's inability to get laid without paying for it, while foisting the results on an unsuspecting public).
Imagine the bedside charm of Peter Lorre as a criminal pathologist, and you'll have an idea how Senter solicits his victims to spread, roll over and, quote "make some noise." They comply as prompted, not even bothering to mask the boredom/contempt they have for the process. These poor, poor girls!