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Kristy Carlson (or Kirstine or Krystina or Krissy or Kristi, she has more names than the A-K section of your local phone book) stars as a phone sex seductress extraordinaire who comes home to find her crooked boyfriend has stolen a million bucks. After having sex with him, he falls asleep and she swipes a chunk of change before leaving for good. What follows is a lot more sex with essentially anyone who walks through her door, some fairly non-suspenseful suspense as ex-boyfriend comes a-calling, and acting of the standard displayed by your local third grade Fourth of July pageant.

The character Kristy Carlson is playing here must be the cleanest woman alive, because she spends half of the movie either in the bath, getting out of the bath, changing clothes, or showering. Not that I mind a clean derriere, but when does this girl get the shopping done? And does she screw the grocery clerk on the way to the parking lot?

Carlson isn’t ever going to be a video vixen on the scale of a Shannon Tweed – or even an Amber Newman for that matter. She not a blonde bombshell, her body is just fine but not groundbreaking, and her breasts have that ‘bargain basement boob job’ look that has them jutting out like grapefruits even when she’s lying on her back. The IMDB lists her as being 23 years old though she looks about 33 and change. If she’s 23 then I’ve been dating fifteen-year-olds for the last ten years.

Also hoeing in with some big nudity in this Bizarro World classic is Eva Bell. An unknown in the softcore world both before and after this flick, while not likely to lead a young man to heart attack, Bell certainly makes up for any deficiencies in the breast department with some non-stop bronco-riding. She screws and screws and screws. Then she answers the phone. Then she screws and screws. If Sony could release an electronic version of Eva Bell and sell it for less than the price of an X-Box, job productivity would rapidly decrease across the entire male species – we’d be screwing and screwing and... you get the picture.

Orly Topper also enters the fray, not doing nearly as much screwing as Eva Bell, but managing to gape jaws when she finally shows a little flesh. But essentially there’s not a lot to this flick - other than just enough titillation to keep most red-blooded males from switching over to Sportscentre. The sex is most entertaining and there’s barely twelve seconds that passes by without a glimpse of gash. Somewhat surprisingly, the usual electric guitar squeal heard throughout these kinds of films is almost totally absent. Instead of bombarding you with a Spice Channel soundtrack, it just gets down to the screwing… and screwing… and answering of the phone... and the screwing.

What more do you want in a really bad boob movie?

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originally posted: 10/22/02 06:07:55
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