A neatly plotted but erratically styled caper-with-heavy-breathing, starring tough London career gal Sheila--who claims that ""I can give myself a better orgasm than many men I've bedded"" but who utterly succumbs to that old ""spiraling dagger of lust"" when her best friend's ugly-sexy husband takes a job at Sheila's swank oil-deal company. Under Charles' spell (the throbbing/quivering variety), Sheila agrees to betray her boss (a lifelong buddy) and doctor some international documents so that she and Charles can skim off a fortune and skip to Brazil. Unfortunately, the boss catches on--and accidentally gets fatally stabbed with a paper knife during the big confrontation scene, leaving Sheila and Charles with a body to dump but their escape plan intact. Only then does dummy Sheila stumble onto the news that Charles has also been making it with the boss' wife (now widow) and fully intends to leave Sheila behind--behind bars, if possible. Criss-cross, double-cross, in the time-tested Double Indemnity manner; the only problem, besides Allan's frequent goopy excesses, is that Sheila possesses neither the evil zest nor the sympathetic core needed to keep us caring whether she gets the dough, the guy (whose allure must be taken on faith), or the axe.