They don't make porn starlets like they used to, and in the case of redhead street angel Dorothy Le May it's too bad they don't. Skin scouts who have never ventured into hardcore territory may nonetheless carry a cerebral imprint of Le May's lighter-than-air bosom as it floated onscreen in Blake Edwards's 10 (1979). The more reckless epidermal explorers can only scoff at their timid brethren and exhort the mousy muff hunters to go all the way, especially for Dorothy Le May. The rewards include soft, copper-colored tufts atop and below, lissome limbs like milk in a flesh mold of the Sabine women, a mouth never completely shut, a tongue never far behind her not-quite-touching teeth, a sexual hunger never far from erupting and consuming all who are its witness. Start with Taboo (1980) and press deeper from there.