Secret Love

As far as I am concerned, Erotic Angel owes me back 90 minutes of my life. SECRET LOVE, a May 2000 production starring shapely Taylor St. Clair and Anna Malle, is a stereotypical example of soulless, assembly line, cookie cutter, narcoleptic erotica which would only be arousing to a porn-deprived teenager who finds it while rummaging through his older brother's sock drawer. This film is about as creative as a Red Skelton clown painting and just as engaging. (Don't even get me started on the nearly five minutes of commercials for sex chat lines and websites which precede the film and which can't be skipped over or fast-forwarded through. Aaarrgghhh!!!).

The "plot," such as it is, involves Taylor leaving her husband to shack up with Anna. However, since we don't learn this until the very end of the film (and don't really care anyway), what we are left with up to that point is a series of pedestrian sex scenes in which the actors shout "fuck me, fuck me!" with less emotion than Data from "Star Trek: The Next Generation" (before he got his emotion chip - don't want the "Star Trek" geeks to get on my case).

In the opening scene, Taylor and Anna mumble inaudibly to one another before Taylor goes to pleasure herself in the tub. (Apparently, our California rolling power blackouts kept hitting the microphone because I could barely hear anyone speaking in this flick. Of course, to avoid my entire block knowing I was watching porn on a Friday night, I then had to make a diving lunge for my remote when the sound level inexplicably soared during the sex scenes). Taylor pleasures herself with fingers and a large dildo before boyfriend, Cameron (Cameron Steele - this film was cranked out so fast that they didn't even go through the motions of giving the characters different names) jerks himself off to Taylor's antics. Although Taylor has a curvy, shapely body and looks good taking care of herself, this wasn't enough to make me care about this cinematic dreck, much less sport any wood. Next up is a suck and fuck session with Anna and "Hank" (Hank Armstrong - get it?). Although Anna's stern, stereotypical porn star appearance, unfortunate tattoos on her breast and pussy and raspy voice don't do it for me, she admittedly has a super, ultra-tan figure. Anna gulps Hank's sausage and rides his meat in a number of positions (BJ, missionary, reverse CG, doggy) before taking his load in her waiting mouth. Once again, the sheer mechanical nature of this scene with no originality or effort at a set-up or build-up or anything is typical of this type of mass-produced junk.

For reasons unknown, Taylor skips work and calls co-worker, Liza Harper, to let her know. Liza, a trim, natural brunette, also mumbles something, this time in a bad French accent (if this girl is, in fact, French, I think she needs to find a better language coach) and heads home for spontaneous suck and fuck session with hubby, Roy L. Shaft. Liza does some nice ball sucking and dick swallowing before getting a hard pounding in the missionary and standing positions. However, given that Liza's pussy stays as dry as melba toast throughout the main event led me to question how genuinely she was into this scene.

Back at the house, Taylor tells Anna how she left her hubby after finding him with a stripper (Anita Cannibal). However, no action takes place during a brief flashback scene with Anita. (I almost got the impression that the rental time for the filming location was fast approaching and the director had to quickly finish shooting) Anna and Taylor then engage in a decent girl/girl scene, revealing why they moved in together. The girls use their tongues and fingers on each other and Anna pleasures Taylor with a large strap-on. Although I always enjoy watching hot lezbos using strap-ons and this part of the scene was fairly enjoyable, it isn't enough to recommend the rest of this throwaway flick.

Although the lighting was acceptable and the videography was generally crisp (if routine and amateurish), the sound quality was terrible. (Don't worry, you aren't experiencing hearing loss or a stroke - that is just the sound level going up and down faster than an EKG readout). Very minimal extras include a slideshow and "trailer" (Beware! The trailer just takes you back to the commercials from the beginning of the DVD). All in all, SECRET LOVE isn't a secret worth keeping or even telling anyone about. My secret message is buy something else.