| This sequel to director Andrew Blake's much-praised Paris Chic tells the tale of Dahlia Grey. Six full feet of glorious, café au lait-skinned womanflesh, Grey recounts, via her silken narrative, her rise in the adult industry. Unabashedly admitting she'd always been bisexual, this factual tidbit leads her to a lesbian love affair with the equally-stunning European actress, Lea Martini.
In Blake's inimitable style, a cool, new-age jazz soundtrack accompanies shots of a naked Grey walking towards the camera, her natural breasts giving just the right amount of jiggle with each step she takes. Grey walks up a staircase in a form-fitting black leather ensemble, that wondrous ass bouncing from the right side to the left like a couple of casabas under a blanket. Legs that go on for a thousand miles. Legs you'd beg to be caught between in a scissor lock.
Did we say Blake's offerings are analogous to eye candy? Hell, it's an intravenous concoction of every euphoria-inducer known to science, and then some.
Grey relatives of how she met Martini. In this nom-worthy girl/girl sequence, the two women sit alone in the back of a limousine. Martini, her crystal blue-eyed, flaxen-haired countenance a perfect complement to the dusky, raven-haired Grey, offer a black gift box. Grey opens it and finds a demure black leather collar attached to a dainty leash. Titillated and tantalized, Grey enters a relationship that demands an unspoken law of understanding who's boss. Unfortunately, this can include mind games as well.
The segment continues with Grey telling Martini of a dream in which she stands naked and alone, save for a pair of black high heels in a long chrome and glass hallway. We cut to Martini's slender finger dividing Grey's labial folds like a velvet pillow cut in two. A flurry of fingers and hands, belonging to Felecia and Vicca, tear away Grey's clothes. All hands anxiously flock around the geography of Grey's gluteus, vying for the privilege of touching her, slapping her gumdrop nipples, and plunging into her inner recesses.
Suddenly the two women are back in the limo, with Martini leaning down to bestow tongue kisses on Grey's delicate vulva, alternately pulling a silver chain teasingly across her clit.
What is it that Martini wants from Grey? Her complete sexual submission. But, as Grey reveals, Martini also enjoys playing games to test her sexual control.... like keeping Grey aroused but not allowed to cum. In a pre-nom Best Couple's scene, Martini fingers Grey during a torturous test in which a hired couple (Jill Kelly, Eric Price) have slow, maddeningly sensuous sex right before her. This is too much, Grey grinds herself to release. For this forbidden orgasm, Grey must pay the price.
Martini further tests the submissive Grey, this time in a restaurant. How far can her exhibitionist qualities be stretched? Even after whipped cream is smeared on her pussy for all to see, Grey proves she can pass muster most deliciously.
Things come to a head one afternoon when Grey, home from a cancelled shoot, catches Martini bringing a man and woman into her boudoir. While the voyeur in her is inflamed, the jealousy in her burns uncontrollably. She marches naked into the bedroom and wrestles with Martini in a slapping, biting catfight. Now the roles are changed, and so have the rules. There is a new mistress in the house to be reckoned with.
Pre-noms are in order for Best Cinematography, Best Art Direction, Best Editing, and Best Music. Blake's done it again in his latest paean to womanhood.
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