Operating under still another name, that naughty 48-year-old Sheila Ryan (A.K.A. Sheila Doyle, 2002) continues to fuel the same adolescent fantasies.
Bobby Roberts (a.k.a. Bobby Squared), the Fort Lauderdale stud who initiated her into the intoxicating world of panting sex, high-risk scams, and stone killing, loves Sheila so much that he’s abandoned her to go incognito as an exotic dancer in La Te Da, a Key West gay club. In return, Sheila has allowed Hoshi, Bobby’s cancer-stricken Shiba, death with dignity when Bobby’s partner, Sol Billstein (a.k.a. Weinstein), traces her to the Strawberry Hill Preparatory School, where she’s director of the drama department. Sol and Bobby plan to use Sheila and Bobby’s La Te Da buddy Samson de la Plaine (né Reginald Johnson), a flamboyantly gay hairdresser, to help rob La Donna Bellicósa, the styling salon that serves as a front for the call-girl and murder-for-hire rackets run by Angel Scott (née Scarpetti) and executed by mama’s boy limo driver Barry (The Bear) Berenson. Is Sheila up to the rigors of foreplay and gunplay? “I’m not the same person I was when you left me,” she assures Bobby, which seems par for this cast of chameleons.
The silly, weightless intrigue is only an excuse for an endless round of fantasy scenes in which females with silicon enhancements and without underwear, supplemented by equally enthusiastic gay supporting players, are constantly sinking to their knees in homage to His Majesty.