One of the most difficult attitudes to project with honest sensuality is the true psychology of sex. While the world waits patiently for Nicole Kidman to bare her dewy furburger in Stanley Kubrick's upcoming erotic opus Eyes Wide Shut, we'll have to make do with hardcore material such as this. Hampered by an overwrought script, Nic Cramer's film can't help but straddle the fence.

The characters - all very successful, all very guilty - gather at a mansion for a round-table group therapy session in which the regular shrink has been replaced by a new doctor (Tye, wearing glasses to make her appear studious), who has a supernatural ability to see into their warped little souls. Dr. Tye is the self-proclaimed "dark creature that gets in your mind and thrives on your torment." (Gee, we always thought that was Arsenio Hall.)

It soon becomes apparent that Morgan, McCullough, Wilde, and Tyler are headed down the yadda-yadda-yadda trail, pronouncing their hang-ups ad nauseam while Dr. Tye bounces her brand of sexual psycho-babble against their skulls like so many post-Freudian handballs. 'Round the table we go, as each perverse peccadillo becomes illustrated via a hardcore fantasy sequence.

Tina has a decent scene, mounting Ian Daniels before a crackling fireplace, playing with her joy buzzer while he searches for her G-spot with his magic wand. Big-shot movie producer Wilde finds himself under the domination of leather-clad Angelica Sin, but there's not enough fetish to move the scene into new territory. Moran's gazebo encounter with Asia Carrera proves little except that these two have been much hotter elsewhere, and the scene is virtually 50% softcore. When tye ties one on with Julian St. Jox and Shanna, the film begins to reach some analicious potential, but alas, this material comes too late to be effective.