Corruption (Roger Watkins, 1984)

Blue stockings, red stockings, black stockings. Is there any significance to the order in which the stocking-clad women who greet a confused businessman in the ultra-creepy, ultra-weird Corruption? Why do blue stockings come before red stockings? And why do black stockings come last? Is the colour blue meant to represent something? Maybe the colour was used to give the scene a sort of a cool, detached flavour. In other words, you can looking at my legs encased in blue hold-up stockings, but don't you dare touch them. Yeah, that makes sense, as the next pair of nylon-clad legs are sheathed in red stockings. And we all know that red represents fire, the complete opposite of cool. What about black? Good question. What does black mean? Hey, sorry to interrupt this nylon-based chromatic dissertation you having with yourself, but isn't this kind of movie you're supposed to masturbate to? First of all, I wouldn't call what I was doing a "dissertation," they're way longer than a few sentences strung together; incoherent blather would be a more apt description. And secondly, "masturbate to"? Don't be vulgar. This film was made by Roger Watkins (The Last House on Dead End Street), one of the few visionaries working in the consecrated cesspool that is x-rated cinema. You don't masturbate to his films, you clasp your hands by your chin and nod ever-so slightly as you soak in the artistry. Nevertheless, getting back to my original point, there is definitely a hidden meaning behind the colours of the stockings. I mean, there has to be. And get this, the colour of the lingerie matches the walls as well. Don't tell me, is this one of those flicks where a character goes from room to room, having sex with scantily clad women along the way? It is, isn't it?
 

 

One of the pleasures of watching an x-rated film that was clearly made by an artist, and make no mistake, Roger Watkins is an artist, is picking out all the subtle details that the raincoat crowd would surely miss. Oh, that reminds me. One of the primary reasons I responded so positively to Corruption, besides the fact that the film features the pleasing shape that is Tish Ambrose's ass, was the fact that the so-called "raincoat crowd" (a.k.a. dedicated patrons of erotic movie houses) probably despised this film. And, no. It's not because they dislike things are awesome. Mainly because a pussy isn't penetrated by a penis until we're well into the production. Oh, sure, fingers and tongues come close on several occasions to hitting vaginal pay dirt in the early going. But the raincoat crowd is going to need to see a lot more than a slight labia dusting to achieve the liquid-based satisfaction they so wantonly crave.
 

 

And they're definitely not going to get it by watching the opening scene, as Mr. Williams (Jamie Gillis) tries to reassure a seated Mr. Franklin (Michael Gaunt, a.k.a. Larry the Lineman from A Woman's Torment) that he "believes in business." From the looks of it, Mr. Williams was given something by Mr. Franklin and his associates, and they seem to expect something in return. What it is they want from Mr. Williams exactly isn't quite clear. But I'm guessing it involves power. And what represented power during the 1980s? That's right, a nondescript briefcase. It doesn't matter what's in it, just as along as you're holding one.   
 

 

You know how I said that Mr. Franklin has "associates"? Well, it would seem that Mr. Williams has some as well. And one of these "associates" is entering a mysterious building while electronic music throbs on the soundtrack. The music heard during the build up to this scene sounds like it's from The Thing, but I'm not 100% sure about that. Anyway, this "associate," who is probably more of an errand boy that an associate, is actually a man called Alan (George Payne), and he's about to go on a strange erotic trip.
 

 

In order to go on this "strange erotic trip," he must first get past the "person behind the desk," a.k.a. "woman at desk." Played by Samantha Fox ("Lisa" from Her Name Was Lisa), the woman behind the desk confuses Alan with cryptic language. You'll notice that Samantha Fox is reading Cosima Wagner's Diaries 1878-1883. Which makes perfect sense since Roger Watkins'  porn nom de plume is Richard Mahler, an amalgamation of the names of classical composers Richard Wagner and Gustav Mahler. Well, enough about that, Alan is about to enter the first room. Why is he going in there? The woman behind the desk told him that if he wants what he's looking for, he's going to have to enter that room to get it. Okay, that sounds simple enough. Oh, you're so naive. I'm talking about Alan, not you, by the way.
 

 

Told immediately to sit down, Alan is greeted by the "Woman in Blue" (Tanya Lawson). And by "greeted." I mean she proudly flaunts her hairy pussy (which is beautifully framed by a pair of blue stockings) with much fanfare. Itching to show off her vagina in a more flattering light, the "Woman in Blue" sits down on a blue chair and spreads her legs (a surefire way to get your genitals more word of mouth). Instructing him to "do nothing," the "Woman in Blue" pulls down the breast-covering mechanism attached to her blue corset and begins playing with her nipples. When she's done doing that, she beckons him to smell her pussy; that's right, smell. When she feels that he has experienced everything her cunt has to offer odor-wise, the "Woman in Blue" pushes him away, and proceeds to finger herself for an extended period of time.
 

 

If you're confused by what just happened, you're not alone, as Alan seems more perplexed than ever. After the extended period of time I alluded to earlier runs out, the "Woman in Blue" informs Alan that what he's looking for is beyond that door. You mean? Yep, another room, and another colour-coordinated lingerie-enthusiast to contend with. This time it's a woman in red lingerie, oh, let's call her the "Woman in Red" (Marilyn Gee), who greets Alan. However, unlike the "Woman in Blue," the "Woman in Red" wants Alan to do more than smell her pussy. You guessed it, she wants him to eat it.
 

 

Sliding off her red panties in a gingerly fashion (she obviously doesn't want to disrupt the structural integrity of her equally red stockings), Alan seems to relish this opportunity to get his face smeared with vaginal wetness. His relish is rewarded when she puts his cock (the male equivalent of a pussy) in her mouth. Of course, she doesn't just leave it in there, she removes it every so often, like she was sucking on a Popsicle. As she is, as the kids like to say, "blowing him," Roger Watkins gets in touch with his inner Jess Franco by giving us a gratuitous leg pan. Just as he's about to deposit his load skyward, or downward, depending on the viscosity of his wad, the "Woman in Red" removes his cock, denying him the opportunity to spew his seed. What are you trying to say? Let me put this way, there will be no clean up necessary in the red room on this day.    
 

 

Even though the women who have greeted Alan so far have been alluring in terms of sex appeal, nothing could have prepared me for the shapely perfection that is Tish Ambrose's pale ass. If that wasn't enough, the scene where Alan meets the "Woman in Black" (Tish Ambrose) starts off with a top-notch synth flourish. Up there with the likes of Rinse Dream and Gregory Dark, Alan's "confrontation" with the "Woman in Black" is as dark and twisted as porn can get it. Oh, don't get me wrong, the sex itself is pretty straightforward. It's that the atmosphere is so off-kilter. Lounging in black stockings, the "Woman in Black" asks if Alan is ready to renounce love. See what I mean? There's no love in pornography.
 

 

In the 1980s, power was more important than love, so Alan has no trouble whatsoever renouncing it. In return for renouncing love, Alan is allowed to penetrate the "Woman in Black" with his long suffering penis. Before he does that, however, he removes her black panties, in a gingerly fashion, of course, and throws his face in the general direction of her clitoris. If you listen carefully, you can hear a mass sigh of relief fall over the audience when Alan's penis finally enters her vagina. In my mind, waiting eighteen minutes doesn't seem that long a time to wait for a penis to be inserted into a vagina. But to the raincoat crowd, it must have seemed like an eternity.  
 

 

As Alan plows into the "Woman in Black" doggy style (the blackness of her stocking's garters tear across her ashen thighs like crumpled bolts of polyester lightning with every thrust), it occurs to me that I need more Tish Ambrose in my cinematic life. Everything from her wide, expressive eyes to the birthmark on her left breast (they're nature's tattoos) was appealing. Nearing the end of his thrusting capacity, the "Women in Black" tells Alan, "Don't cum inside me!" After dispensing his future stain across her ample backside, she curtly instructs him to leave. Ending up back where he started, Alan notices a briefcase sitting on Samantha Fox's desk.   
 

 

Meanwhile, Mr. Williams, the guy who sent Alan on that crazy errand in this first place, is at home with his wife Doreen (Tiffany Clark). Since this film is technically a pornographic film, Jamie Gillis and Tiffany Clark have sex, but not before exchanging some esoteric dialogue. In order to placate said esoteric dialogue, a scene where Mr. Williams watches (through a crack in the door) his wife's younger sister, Felicia (Kelly Nichols), masturbate on her bed in purple panties and white hold-up stockings. While the scene with Felicia feels superfluous, it actually sets up her character and the voyeurism of the next few scenes rather nicely.
 

 

When Mr. Williams finds out what Alan has done (the contents of the briefcase are his), he heads down to a local bar to ask his half-brother, Larry (Bobby Astyr), for help. In keeping with the film's odd tone, the bar is a sort of a cross between the Bang Bang Bar in Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me and the joint from Café Flesh. Dancing on a stage is, to quote Larry, "a half-wasted broad shaking her ass," named...actually, she doesn't have a name. Well, despite that, she's played by Nicole Bernard, and she continues to dance as Mr. Williams and Larry discuss the whereabouts of Alan.  

 

Similar to the scenes where Alan goes from room to room, Larry takes Mr. Williams to a subterranean hallway that contains three red doors. Now, what lies behind these is not anyone's guess, as each door is equipped a reverse peephole. Telling Mr. Williams that he must watch what takes place behind each door before they can continue, the frustrated businessman is subjected to bathroom lesbianism (a wonderfully bruised Alexis X and Sabrina Vale); dungeon-based sadomasochism, a dominatrix in fishnet stockings (Melissa Strong) demands that a man in a leather mask lick her boots; and, believe or not, necrophilia. While the lesbianism behind door number one is a pleasant diversion, what Mr. Williams sees through the other two doors will cause him quite a bit of distress.
 

 

A true work of subversive art, Corruption, with its total and utter disregard for the needs and wants of your pathetic genitals, is a rare of example of what porn can become if put in the hands of a thoughtful director. On top of that, the acting by Jamie Gillis, Samantha Fox, Bobby Astyr, Michael Gaunt, and Vanessa del Rio (who shows up near the end of the film) is excellent across the board. I would compliment Tish Ambrose on her acting as well, but I was too busy admiring the smoothness of her backside to notice her acting. Just kidding, her lines are read with just the right amount of forcefulness.

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Her Name Was Lisa (Roger Watkins, 1980)

Why does Paul the photographer look so sad when he is ultimately forced to sever all his personal and professional ties with one of his top models? Is the answer: A) His erect penis will no longer be allowed to penetrate her wet pussy on a semi-regular basis B) His camera will no longer be allowed to take pictures of her succulent organic structure...on a semi-regular basis C) He knows what sort of degradation lies ahead for the wispy massage parlour employee turned fashion model with the creamy thighs that bruise easily, or D) All of the above. If you answered 'D,' then you my friend know that 1980 is a dangerous place for a 5'1" no-nonsense brunette who dreams of becoming a fashion model. Actually, we never really get to know what Lisa (Samantha Fox), the title character in Her Name Was Lisa, was aspiring to be. And it's no wonder, she's dead. Um, hello? Hows about giving us a heads up next time? You mean a spoiler warning?!? Eww, how vulgar. Truth be told, I don't think a spoiler warning is really necessary in this film's case. You see, the film, which is directed by Roger Watkins, a.k.a. Richard Mahler (The Last House on Dead End Street), opens with a shot of Lisa lying dead in a casket, so, yeah. And besides, the film's title uses the word "was" as supposed to "is." Meaning, this film tells its story through flashbacks that document how Lisa eventually wound up in that casket. And judging by her youthful vigor, slender frame, and the twinkle in her eye, I'm going to go ahead and assume that she didn't die of natural causes. No, I'd say the excesses of the era and the selfishness of others are what lead to Lisa's ultimate downfall.   
 

 

First things first, Samantha Fox, not to be confused with the British pop singer/glamour model of the same name, looks amazing in this film. She exudes a tough, streetwise attitude yet she can also be soft and elegant at the same time. In other words, she is very sexy, especially when she's holding a whip while her waist area is being lassoed by a leather garter belt. However, I have a feeling some people might have trouble buying Samantha as a fashion model. Why's that? I don't know, but I think it might have something to do the toughness I just alluded to. On the other hand, you shouldn't really apply today's freakish standards to the models of yesteryear. Oh yeah. I'm sorry about that. I keep forgetting that models weren't always emaciated string beans with trendy cocaine habits. That's right. They used to be diminutive porn stars with trendy heroin habits; there's a big difference.
 

 

Giving a performance that reminded me a lot of Dorothy LeMay's turn in Nightdreams–in that, her moist holes are poked and prodded in almost every scene–Samantha Fox's bruise-laden thighs tell no lies, as her tight little body oozes truth from every pore.
 

 

Naked, dead, and wrapped in plastic, how did Lisa, a feisty brunette with her whole life ahead of her, end up in a wooden box? Well, I guess it all began when Paul (Rick Iverson) wandered into the massage parlour where Lisa works. Telling the woman sitting behind the desk that he would like a "massage," Paul's instructed, after paying twenty bucks, to choose from the ladies that have been haphazardly assembled before him. Unimpressed by what he sees during his initial head turn, Paul suddenly notices a brunette sitting with her back to him smoking a cigarette like she were Greta Garbo. It takes the clerk  couple of tries to get her attention, but she eventually turns around and acknowledges Paul's presence.     
 

 

Insisting on calling him "Buddy," Lisa, who is wearing a dark red leotard, orders Paul to take off all his clothes, and informs him that he has fifteen minutes. However, it's clear right away that Paul has no interest in getting a massage. It would seem that he's a photographer and he's there not to get a rub and tug, but to ask Lisa if she would interested in posing for some pictures.

 

 

In order to prove that Paul isn't joking around, we're treated to a surprisingly chic photo shoot sequence that   features "The Robots" by Kraftwerk throbbing on the soundtrack. Very stylish and filled with...Hold the phone. Did you say Kraftwerk?!? The Kraftwerk? The guys from Düsseldorf? Yeah, that Kraftwerk. How is that physically possible? I don't know, but the photo shoot sequence in Her Name Was Lisa totally features "The Robots" by Kraftwerk in all its techno-pop glory. Anyway, boasting blood-stained faces, boobies, and pistols, Lisa wanders into Paul's studio just as the shoot was winding down.
 

 

After the other models leave, Paul uses the phrase "my girls" when offering Lisa a job as a model. Big mistake, Paul, as Lisa hates that term (she's nobodies "girl"). Either way, Lisa is dancing to disco in nothing but her gold panties in no time. Heaving and thrusting her realistic crotch in every possible direction, Lisa eventually stops dancing in order to place Paul's cock in her mouth. Returning the favour, Paul pulls off Lisa's dusty gold panties and plants the bottom half of his face squarely into her ass. As Paul plows his erect penis into one of the crevices where his face once was, you'll notice that Lisa's panties are desperately hanging onto her foot and that Samantha Fox has a great fuck face. 
 

 

During their after sex chat/smoke, Lisa tells Paul that what they just did was strictly business. What I liked about their post-coital conversation, besides the fact that Lisa is one tough cookie, is that Paul uses the word "sarcastic." And since I've never heard that word used in an erotic movie before, I was quite taken aback by its unexpected usage.
 

 

When not modeling, not giving massages, or not taking any sass, you can usually find Lisa hanging out at a local spa. She does what most people do when they visit the spa (swim, walk around in a towel). But Lisa, I noticed, likes to use her spa time to try out her side ponytail; Lisa only wears her hair in a side ponytail while at the spa.
 

 

Hey, why is Paul the photographer so glum? Well, it would seem that his time as Lisa's photographer of choice is about to come to an end. Enter Stephen Sweet (David Pierce), a sadistic magazine publisher who wants Lisa to be his, uh...Actually, I'm not quite sure what he wants with her. All I know is that Mr. Sweet wants her and there's nothing Paul the photographer can do stop him. Ordering Paul to get them some food (he basically tells him to scram), Stephen starts to molest Lisa the second the photog vacates the premises. The see-through nightie Lisa was wearing for the photo shoot quickly falls by the wayside, as Mr. Sweet pulls down his pants and waits for her full lips to latch onto his manhood.     
 

 

While Lisa and Mr. Sweet were doing the sex thing, I couldn't help but notice a couple of things. 1) If Mr. Sweet is so "punctual," why doesn't he wear a watch? (Mr. Sweet often brags about his punctuality) 2) For a man who professes to be powerful, Mr. Sweet's penis and the milky syrup it occasionally produces do not reflect this power at all.
 

 

Taking Lisa to his swanky apartment, Mr. Sweet tells her to make herself at home. She might not know it yet, but Lisa is no longer a model, she's Mr. Sweet's live-in sex slave. Told to put on the clothes that are lying spread out on the bed, Mr. Sweet informs her that he'll be back at ten. And since he's punctual, he shows up at ten on the dot. Waiting for him in black stockings, a black leather garter belt, a studded choker, and black leather bra, Lisa says, "take your clothes off" in authoritative manner. As she is strapping him to the bed with leather restraints (she forces him to wear a leather mask as well), the sound of "Will-o' the Wisp" by Passport starts to pummel us with its jazz funk brand of awesomeness. What this film lacks in buckets of opaque fluid, it more than makes up for it with its killer soundtrack.
 

 

"Don't come back until your tongue grows six inches longer," says Lisa, who is clearly not satisfied with Mr. Sweet's annilingis technique.

If you thought it was odd that Mr. Sweet allowed Lisa to be so cruel to him (she throws recently extinguished matches at him at one point). Don't worry, Mr. Sweet has something nasty in store for her. And their names are Male Rapist #1 (Bobby Astyr) and Male Rapist #2 (Randy West), two friends that Mr. Sweet wants Lisa to treat "especially nice." I don't think I need to tell you what happens next when Male Rapist #1 and Male Rapist #2 show up at Mr. Sweet's door.

 

 

Covered in bruises, Lisa is comforted by Carmen (Vanessa del Rio), a fellow spa enthusiast. And by "comforted," I mean Carmen performs cunnilingus on Lisa's haggered pussy.
 

 

Wondering why Lisa is dressed so "un-provocatively," Mr. Sweet, whose drink has been drugged, is confused by the behaviour of his live-in sex slave. Just as Lisa is putting the finishing touches on her striptease, Carmen enters the room wearing black stockings, a black leather garter belt, a black bra, and a black leather trench coat. Even though he's kind of out it, Mr. Sweet seems pleased to see Carmen, who is brandishing a whip. After Lisa does what any sane person would (sprinkle Vanessa del Rio's stocking adorned legs with many kisses), Mr. Sweet busies himself with Carmen's pussy. While Mr. Sweet is occupied, you'll notice that Lisa is attaching something to her crotch. It's almost as if she is strapping something on. It couldn't be? Could it? It is! She's putting on a strap-on dildo. I'm surprised she bothered to slather it with lube, because Mr. Sweet's unexplored asshole doesn't deserve the mucusy goodness that only a healthy dollop of lube can provide.
 

 

Anyway, Lisa officially ends her relationship, if you can call it that, by sticking the dildo in Mr. Sweet's ass to the strains of "Gimme Some Lovin'" by Kongas (a song that was ruined in the 1980s when a slightly altered version was used in an ad for Molson Canadian). How did a 5' 1" brunette manage to penetrate a hulking magazine publisher? I've got two words for you. Wait, make that three words: Vanessa del Rio. If anyone can pin a hulking magazine publisher to the ground so that a smaller woman can fuck him in the ass with a strap-on dildo, it's her.
 

 

If you think Lisa is out of the proverbial shag carpeting, think again. Her trip to rock bottom has just begun. Actually, that's not true; rock bottom was visited when Lisa is raped by Male Rapist #1 and Male Rapist #2. Either way, things don't get better for Lisa after shacking up with Carmen. In fact, things only get worse, as she develops, no thanks to Carmen, a debilitating heroin habit. Dealing with issues such as mortality, drug abuse, and rape, Her Name Was Lisa is an adult movie made for adults. Aren't most adult movies made for adults? Yeah, I guess. But this one seems more mature than your average fuck film; it has an air of sophistication about it that most adult films seem to lack.    
 

 

Holy crap! I almost forgot, how did the producers manage to put Led Zeppelin's "Dazed and Confused" on the soundtrack? I know, they probably didn't even bother to ask permission. But still, I'm surprised they able to get away with it, as I hear the band is quite protective when it comes to other people using their music.

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The Tiffany Minx (Roberta Findlay, 1981)

Sex, money, rape, and murder all coalesce into one mighty fine stew in...The Tiffany Minx, Roberta Findlay's logical follow up to A Woman's Torment. Wait a second, follow up?!? Wasn't A Woman's Torment made in 1977? Yeah, so? Well, you have...The Tiffany Minx listed as coming out in 1981. Again, yeah, so? What I'm trying to say is, that's not exactly what I would call a "follow up" (four years is practically an eternity in erotic horror terms). In today's fact-deficient culture, who really cares about release dates? I mean, Marlene Willoughby's willowy frame and Crystal Sync's succinct cunt are patiently waiting to receive the fawning praise they so rightly deserve, and here I am talking about release dates? That's–and I'm sure most of you will agree–some pretty fucked up shit. Besides, it's obvious A Woman's Torment and...The Tiffany Minx were made at the same time. How so? I'll tell you how so, Crystal Sync wears the same dress in both films. And not only that, Jeffrey Hurst's back is hairy in both films as well. Think about it, if it was really 1981, don't you think that Jeffrey wouldn't have gotten it shaved, or, at the very least, trimmed a bit, by the time 1981 rolled around? No, these films are both products of the mid-to-late 1970s (and they have the hairy ass cracks to prove it). Um, that's great and all. But what about Marlene Willoughby's willowy frame and Crystal Sync's succinct cunt? Oh, yeah, I almost forgot about them. Just kidding, those two things are never far from my mind.
 

 

When I first saw the trailer for...The Tiffany Minx, I thought to myself: I need stop what I'm doing and go see...The Tiffany Minx. Brilliantly edited and narrated by a woman who seems to whisper all her lines, the trailer immediately sucked me into its melodramatic world of sex and violence. Oh, and the reason I pause every time I say...The Tiffany Minx, is because that's what the voiceover lady does in the trailer, and I just like the way it sounds. Anyway, the trailer's biggest draw was Marlene Willoughby's willowy frame and stunning face. In fact, every time Marlene Willoughby would appear in the trailer my guts would go gooey. I don't know, there's just something about her that brings out the animal in me. And by "animal," I mean a small woodland creature with low self-esteem.  
 

 

The moment I saw Marlene Willoughby's brief appearance in Waterpower (you might remember, she played the nurse who assists Dr. Eric Edwards with the film's first enema), I knew right away that there was something special about her; I'm convinced that the shape of her face has healing powers (though, it should be said, that I feel the same way about the faces that belong to Sharon Mitchell and Lois Ayres). After a lengthy period of time that boasted no Marlene Willoughby, I saw her again in A Woman's Torment. Unfortunately, her role was a non-sex-related. On the bright side, she does deliver a deftly comedic performance as the nosy Fannie Grudkow. While it was nice to see Marlene Willoughby in a film again, it was obvious, judging by my naked writhing, that I wanted more.
 

 

Will...The Tiffany Minx provide me the Marlene Willoughby that I so wantonly crave? Stay tuned to find out, as I, and by "I," I mean, "we," delve once again into the cinematic meat grinder that is the world of Roberta Findlay, and carefully examine the erotic tour de force that is...The Tiffany Minx.
 

 

Why is Carter Stevens, sans pants, cutting the garter belt attached to a passed out Robin Sane with a pair of scissors? I have no idea, but it's 2:30am and the fun has apparently just begun. Entering the room with a forceful swagger, a black hold-up stockings/satin panties clad Samantha Fox is ready to get fucked. Accompanied by her brunette boy toy (David Morris), Samantha asks Carter Stevens if they can violate the pussy of his passed out companion. While Carter Stevens goes to the kitchen to get a snack, Samantha Fox and David Morris proceed to rape the unconscious Robin Sane (who, according to Carter Stevens, drank two bottles of champagne). In order to get her in the mood, the brunette boy toy licks Samantha's pussy through her satin panties ("I like the feeling of satin rubbing against my pussy"). As the boy toy is giving Robin and Samantha each a piece of his cock, Carter Stevens is on the phone.  
 

 

As far as opening scenes go, the one in...The Tiffany Minx is pretty confusing. I mean, who are these people? None of them look like Marlene Willoughby or Crystal Sync. Well, Carter Stevens' phone conversation is the only aspect that's integral to the film's plot (the identity of the person on the other end of the line isn't revealed). Everything else is just Samantha Fox in black hold-up stockings-related gravy to feed the raincoat crowd.
 

 

Woo-hoo! The luminous Crystal Sync makes an appearance immediately after the boy toy had finished dispensing his future stain onto Samantha Fox's chest. Standing by the pool in a white bikini, Jessica Grover (Crystal Sync) is talking to her husband, Paul (Jeffrey Hurst), on the phone. While I can't remember exactly what the topic of their conversation was (I was too busy drinking in Miss Sync's sexiness), I bet it's got something to do with Anne.
 

 

Who's Anne, you ask? She's a woman who works with Jess's husband (real estate is his game). And not only that, Jess thinks Paul is having an affair with her. This Anne woman would have to be pretty spectacular to drive Paul to cheat. I mean, let's get real. His wife looks like Crystal Sync. It all starts makes sense once we get our first look at this Anne character. Do I have to spell it out? Anne is played by–yeah, you guessed it–Marlene Willoughby. Wait a second. You mean to tell me this Paul fella is married to Crystal Sync and is having an affair with Marlene Willoughby? Paul is my new hero.
 

 

Don't put your dick in Paul's ass just yet. You see, he's got a scheme going. A scheme? Yeah, a scheme. His wife is loaded. And according to the rooftop chat we're privy to that takes place between Paul and Anne, there's plan afoot to bilk her of her family fortune.

In meantime, Paul and Anne consummate their sinister alliance with a little bedroom sexual intercourse. Ah, bedroom sexual intercourse. It's where straight people fuck. You mean? Yes, we get to see Marlane Willoughby's slender body in the throes of passion. Tasty. Spoon position, moan, "I want it," your pussy looks like Gene Shalit, skinny arms, doggie style, blow job, moan, spoon position, male orgasm, pubic hair/stomach. I like the way Marlene Willoughby would occasionally look over her shoulder in order to keep tabs on what her lover's cock was doing to her shalit-esque pussy.

 

 

While Anne's 'O' face managed to retain its 'O'-ness throughout her encounter with her lover's cock, the same can't be said for the intruder/rapist who decides to pay Jess a visit. His 'O' face quickly turns to his 'Ow' face, as Jess plunges a pair of scissors into his back mere moments after he spewed his rape wad on her stomach. And get this, the intruder/rapist was played by Carter Stevens. You mean the same guy from the opening scene? The very same. Wow, I mean, wow. That's weird, wild stuff.
 

 

Calling her husband immediately, Anne comforts Jess (Marlene Willoughby and Crystal should hug more often) as Paul handles the police. Still stressed about the rape, and the fact that she killed a man, Jess tries to put it all behind her. Of course, seeing the newspaper, headline, "L.I. Woman Kills Rapist," isn't helping matters. To make things even worse, the byline reads: "Cool Canadian Air Due Overnight." That's it, blame Canada for all your troubles.
 

 

The alluring Marlene Willoughby gives the first of her many evil eyebrow lifts during a phone conversation with Paul. If you haven't guessed by now, they're up to something. Anyway, I dug the manner in which Marlene Willoughby says, "Yes, an accident...a fatal accident." The instant she says this, I preformed a mental fist pump. As in, yeah, baby! *mental fist pump* You're thin, you're fabulous, you're a colossal hosebeast, and you're campy as fuck. In other words, I love you.
 

 

A surprise birthday party for Jess doesn't go as planned as she loses her shit during the cake cutting ceremony (knives still creep her out). Realizing their plan is "on the verge of being a rousing success," Paul and Anne celebrate their duplicity by kissing one another. Little do they know, but Jess spots them swapping mouth fluid. Busted! Keeping what she saw to herself, Jess agrees that it's a good idea for her go some place quiet and secluded. Oh, I know where she should go, the Fire Island beach house from A Woman's Torment. It's almost as if she was reading my mind, because that's exactly where she decides to go.
 

 

A weird scene involving a guy named Matt (Robert Kerman) and two women, a blonde (Merle Michaels) and a brunette (Candida Royalle), fills the space between Jess's decision to go the beach house and her eventually arrival. After the blonde and brunette finish sixty-nining each other, Matt receives a blow job from the blonde.

 

 

We soon find out why Matt has been added to the mix, as he's in cahoots with Pinky (Jennifer Jordan), who just happens to be the woman who lives in the beach house next to the one Jess will be staying at. To welcome Jess to her new digs, Paul let's Jess sit on his cock, or I should say, Jess let's Paul put his cock where Jess sits.
 

 

I'm curious. How did Anne feel about all this cock sitting? Why don't you ask her? She's sulking in a slinky blue nightgown in the room next-door. Whatever. Even while sulking, Marlane Willoughby manages maintain her fabulousness. 
 

 

In the blue corner, weighing in at a hundred pounds soaking wet, wearing the green head scarf, from Detroit, Michigan, Marlene Willoughby. Willoughby!
 

 

And in the red corner, weighing in at none of your fucking business, wearing the white bikini, from parts unknown, Crystal Sync. Sync!
 

 

When we see Jennifer Jordan's Pinky sitting cross-legged on the deck of Jessica's beach house, are her shapely legs sheathed in: A) Hold-up stockings B) Stockings attached to a garter belt C) Suspender hose, or D) Pantyhose? To find out the answer to this question, you'll have to watch...The Tiffany Minx.  

 

 

Every time Pinky says her signature line, "If you know what I mean," you have to take a sip of tea. Did you just invent a... The Tiffany Minx drinking game? 'Well, whatta ya know? It looks like I just did. 
 

 

Who is...The Tiffany Minx? Personally, I think it's rather obvious. Nevertheless...The Tiffany Minx packs an emotional punch, with a twist ending that will leave you in awe. Okay, maybe that's a little on the strong side. Let's just say, the film's tag line, "the first adult film for adults," isn't that far off, as the film is surprisingly intelligent (the plot is as tight as Marlene Willoughby's mouth-watering pussy), it's violent, it's well-acted (the five principal actors are all uniformly excellent), and is quite sophisticated in places. The unedited trailer for...The Tiffany Minx can be found on the Roberta Findlay Cult '70s Porno Director DVD and the Doris Wishman Cult 70's Porno Director DVD. Beware...the minx.

an edited version of the infamous tiffany minx trailer has recently been uploaded by permateen (major kudos to them)