Rub & Tug opens with a job interview. The owner of a full body massage parlour is giving his new manager the ins and outs of the trade, because his "staff," lovingly referred to as "those bitches" are always trying to give the clients full service. And, while blow-jobs and hand-jobs are some of the therapeutic services that are provided, full-on sex just isn't allowed.

His excessive and abusive accusations about how things can go wrong continually culminate with "I'm the real victim here." And, after a series of conflicts that vengefully climax in duplicity, this refrain is karmically re-echoed in Conrad the new manager's pleading at the end. It depicts his final descent from a student desperate for a job into an opportunistic sleaze bag.

With such a premise on the table one would think that this film has all the right touches to set the viewer at ease, and then tease, arouse, and excite. It has a fairly tight set. The location doesn't wander too often or too far from one locale, the massage parlour, euphemistically referred to as "the store." It has a fairly tight cast - the introduction of new characters is kept to a minimum. It essentially focuses on the five main characters: the owner, the manager - Conrad, and the three massage girls Betty, Lea, and Cindy.

However, watching Rub & Tug is more like engaging in sex because you feel obligated. Right from the start the dialogue seems stilted, the delivery of lines and reactions off-key and poorly timed. It's like an evening of overly prolonged foreplay that fails to tantalise.