A woman allows herself to be picked up by a mysterious photographer. She strips slowly for his camera, but he walks out when she tries to consummate the relationship. A schoolteacher, recently married, Ruth is both exhibitionist and voyeur, a fantasist driven to act out her desires. Returning to the photographer's studio, she spies on him making love to a prostitute and, when they've gone, recreates the scene by seducing an estate agent. Alone, she tears the place apart. Ward's second film mines female sexual psychology in the guise of enigmatic melodrama. The result is intriguing, but not entirely convincing. Despite a bold central performance from Catz (who doubles as the prostitute), it's hard to see what triggers the teacher's increasingly reckless behaviour, while Stone's photographer remains a cipher, perhaps a figment of Ruth's over-heated imagination. Ward is good on the seedy hotels and sex shops around King's Cross. There's almost a surfeit of texture - you can practically sniff the wall-paper, taste the chemical skin of Seamus McGarvey's cinematography. Ultimately, though, the film proves too tricky for its own good. A heady, enigmatic brew all the same.