Four women in the throes of frustrated sexual desire. Not making fun of them but rather sending up the absurdities of passion and the ways in which it undermines our dignity. One woman, given to heady, long-winded monologues and carrying on like a silent screen vamp, envisions herself as a kind of Eve in the Garden of Eden about to seduce her Adam--but instead of being overcome by the fabled scents of Araby (or such) she is assaulted by the odor of "old socks, gasoline and aftershave."