On this heated night with fans awhirlin’ I streamed a movie from Netflix, it was called Strictly Sexual. The premise goes back to the beginning of time, one of the six original plots known to drama. Two women meet two men, confuse them with gigalos and then proceed to install them in their pool cabana for the purpose of servicing them when desired.
Male fantasy and improbable as that sounds, here is the premise of this skin-filled summer movie. The actresses who play the two woman who share a spacious Los Angeles pad, complete with pool, are quite different, and both remind the audience of people we’ve known. There’s the one who can’t quite orgasm, and never really gets in the groove sexually.
Then there’s the other housemate, the one with the money who owns the house, who sets atop her man like a jockey riding to victory at Saratoga. Their wild sex contrasts with the plodding, awkward dance girl number two experiences with her poolboy.
FIghting out with believable and completely familiar dialogue, the movie’s strength was how real it felt–despite the strange concept of how the characters get together. It’s poignant at the moment when we see that all couples can have passion, but not all can keep going. LIke blogging, staying in a relationship is a time-honored art and a task that may seem easy until you hit a snag and fall off the bar.
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