the_sexy_quinn: (half a face)
Sexy. Funny. Giving. Complicated.

I think it's pretty obvious what the first three words mean and why I'd use them to describe Tom. The man's drop dead gorgeous, makes me laugh (and, god, he has one of the sexiest laughs I've ever heard), and is quite possibly one of the kindest people I know. He doesn't do good things because it looks good to other people. I can tell that he's as genuine and sincere as the day is long. The man used to be a priest, so I'm sure that has something to do with it. But I think even if he'd never been a man of the cloth, he would still be a fantastic human being. Just extremely attractive both inside and out.

The complicated part comes in when I stop and think about myself in relation to him. I'm honest about my desire to be free of commitments and I don't think it's a secret that I'm not the most careful when it comes to other people's feelings. But it feels as if that's changing a little bit. It's all Tom's fault. I'll just leave it at that.
the_sexy_quinn: (showing a bit of chest)
Late 2006

"Do you ever get mad at anything?"

I turn over onto my side and look at her when she asks me that. It's so out of the blue, I wonder what prompted it.

"Doesn't everybody get mad at something?" I ask.

She turns to face me. When she does, the bedsheet slips to expose her breasts. She doesn't bother to adjust it the way so many of the younger women I've been with usually do. That confidence makes me want to shut her up with a kiss.

"I guess so. But what makes you mad?"

I'm tempted to say 'stupid questions,' but I bite my tongue and shrug. This is, after all, a dear friend of my mother's so some respect is due.

"The usual stuff, I suppose." I roll onto my back once more and clasp my hands behind my head. "Injustice, insults, my favorite sports team losing, idiots getting what they don't deserve."

I feel her hand on my chest, and she starts moving it in long, gentle strokes. It makes me smile when she pets me as if I were one of her prized Persians.

"Bullshit." Her use of the word is out of character for her, but I find it strangely arousing coming from her lips. "I don't think anything rattles you at all, Dev. In fact," her breath is hot in my ear as she licks it, "I think you've got it together more than any of my friends. I know you're definitely more in control than my husband."

Her husband is an old fool who's thirty years older than she is. She married him for his money and freely admits as much to me. In her mind, it's easy to justify her affair with me since she was only 18 when her husband started courting her. That excuse makes no sense to me, but I enjoy the perks of screwing one of the richest women in Southern California.

"In fact, I don't really think you're passionate about anything," she continues, biting my earlobe hard enough to make me hiss. "And you need passion to get mad."

I know what she's doing and it works. I move quickly, pushing her onto her back and pinning her down. The look in her eye tells me that she knew she'd push my buttons by saying that. We understand one another. Without another thought, I take that opportunity to show her just how much passion I have.
the_sexy_quinn: (sort of pink sort of serious)
If I were ever to be tied up and held hostage in a scenario that takes place outside of the bedroom, my guess is it would be because of a jilted lover. I have a tendency to royally piss people off, so it would come as no surprise to me if I found myself at someone's mercy after dumping them with my usual lack of tact. Barring that, it could also be an offended spouse or significant other who took issue with me borrowing their partner for a while. When it comes to dating, I don't discriminate.

Once I was captured and bound, there would be a lot of shouting, I'm sure. There would also be a lot of crying on their part as they try to explain away their actions. I would take it all in my stride and wait to see what else was coming. Knowing some of my exes the way I do, there would even be some physical violence resulting in me getting thrown around a little. Still nothing I couldn't handle.

The only way I'd be able to get free would be to make promises of reconciliations or using sexual favors to barter for my freedom. I can be fairly persuasive, which is the reason why I have so many exes. I would use that to my advantage. Once I was freed, I'd take off and be more careful about watching my back in the future.
the_sexy_quinn: (Default)

Dev closed his eyes and slowly inhaled. The vanilla candles gave off their sweet scent, masking the smells of the city. He could still hear the faint sounds of traffic below, but the magic of the Hollywood Hills was the privacy they afforded.

"What're you thinking?"

Turning around, Dev smiled at his host. Greg Harper was a business associate of his father's, a man with whom he was now having an affair. What Greg didn't know was that Dev was also seeing his daughter from his second marriage.

"I was just thinking that I really need a set up like this." Dev nodded at the couches and chairs on the deck. "If those things could talk, I bet they'd have plenty to say."

"I've had a few parties up here," Greg said with a wry smile as he took a sip of the drink in his hand. "If those things could talk, it would make you blush."

"Doubtful," Dev grinned, walking over to Greg and taking the drink out of his hand. "It takes a lot to make me blush." He took a slow sip, watching Greg over the rim of the glass. "Or have you forgotten?"

"No, I haven't forgotten," Greg chuckled. He slipped his arms around Dev's waist and began kissing his neck. "I'm still not sure if I can go back to the Ivy without people whispering about you."

Smiling, Dev drained the glass and sighed contentedly. "I'm screwing Brandie."

Greg's head came up and he looked at Dev, clearly confused at hearing his daughter's name. "What? Did you say--"

"I'm screwing Brandie," Dev repeated. Handing the glass back to Greg, he took a step back to free himself from the other man's embrace. "We started seeing each other about three weeks ago."

Greg's face began to turn red and Dev could see the telltale signs of anger beginning to fill his eyes. "You little--"

"Yeah, so I'm breaking up with you," Dev said, unconcerned about Greg's temper until Greg grabbed his arm and pulled roughly on it.

"You stay the hell away from my daughter," Greg growled, tightening his grip.

Dev frowned. "That hurts," he said calmly, not trying to pull away but looking up at him with definite defiance. "Let go."

Greg complied, but it was clear that he was livid. "I don't know what kind of game you're trying to play, but I'm not going to let you get away with it."

"No game." Dev shrugged and walked back over to the railing that surrounded the deck. "I liked you, we had fun, then I met Brandie and she and I started having fun." He turned around to face Greg and shrugged again. "I'm done with you."

When Greg threw the glass, Dev ducked his head, then quickly turned around to see where it would land. Luckily, it missed a tree and landed harmlessly on the dirt. "Why are you so upset?" Dev asked casually, turning back to Greg.

"You really have to ask?"

"It's not as if you love me. We used each other equally and now it's time to move on."

"Why my daughter? That's sick."

"It might be, but it's the way things have turned out." Dev gave the railing a little pat. "Shame, though. I love this house."

He tuned out Greg's ranting as he made his way back inside. The man wouldn't risk physically hurting him if he wanted to keep the business arrangement going with Dev's father. As Dev calmly walked out the front door and towards his car, he decided he'd stop by the mall on the way home. He wanted to pick up some vanilla candles.
the_sexy_quinn: (sort of pink sort of serious)
I have a hard time believing in aliens.

Let me take that back. I have met beings who aren't from this planet, so I know that there is life other places besides Earth. But, for this particular question, I'm talking about little green men. No. I don't believe in the stereotypical alien with a large head and big black eyes, who abducts people from their beds in order to study them back on their ships. Here's why:

If they really existed, and if they were really coming to our planet in order to abduct humans for study, why on earth would they choose such stupid people? Think about it. The folks who usually cop to being abductees are all toothless trailer trash who most likely got drunk on wine coolers and passed out in the nearest RV park. Would aliens in search of intelligent life on Earth really pick them up? I'm not going to believe that aliens exist until one of them sucks me up into a UFO and gives me an anal probe. But I'd expect dinner first.
the_sexy_quinn: (slick)
One of the reasons I think I have such a problem with so-called authority figures is the fact that those types always seem to take themselves way too seriously. Life is too short to have a stick up your ass all the time about rules and keeping things in order. Everyone needs to step back, relax and realize that this life is all we get. We should spend as much of it as we can enjoying every ridiculous, dirty, deviant, crazy aspect of it instead of trying to crap all over everyone else's fun.

It's all right to color outside the lines, you know. I wish more people could see that. Maybe if they could, the world would be a whole lot better than it is. A little more chaotic? Sure. But that's a price I'd be willing to pay for not having to deal with anal retentive thought police.

If I ever run for office, that's going to be my platform. I bet I win by a landslide.
the_sexy_quinn: (sort of pink sort of serious)
Dev hated needles so he made his friend Bailey inject him with what was supposed to be the latest designer drug to hit town. Word on the street was that it could be considered the bastard child of heroin and ecstacy with a bit of THC thrown in for fun. Dev wasn't sure how accurate that description could be. All he knew was that Bailey raved about how good he felt after taking it and wanted to share. That was good enough.

The little prick made him wince - the needle, not the friend - and he lay back on the bed, waiting to see what he would feel. There wasn't much at first, and, as far as he knew, he eventually fell asleep for the rest of the night.

The next day, he awoke in the afternoon with no memory of anything he'd done the previous night. It was for this reason that it came as quite a surprise for him to stumble into the living room to see his answering machine full of messages. The blinking light informed him he had over 30 waiting for him and his first thought was, "What the hell did I do?" This was quickly followed by, "What the hell did Bailey give me again?"

Scratching his chin, Dev eyed the machine for a few minutes, then finally hit play.

"Dev? It's Catie. Thank you so much for the flowers! They arrived this morning and...god, I don't know what to say. It was really unexpected and I'm not sure if this means--"

Dev winced as he hit 'erase.' Catie had been a one night stand he'd had a few months ago. He hadn't thought about her since that night, and now she was calling him to thank him for sending her flowers?

"Jesus," he muttered and played the next message.

"Dev, this is Michael." Once again, Dev winced. The sound of the sing-songy tone of voice he'd grown to detest over the few weeks he'd dated his fellow student making his skin crawl. "I'm just calling to thank you for the gift. If you're really interested in getting back together, give me a call."

"Not on your life," Dev grumbled and hit the 'erase' button again.

That was how it went with each message. Every single one of them was from some man or woman he'd screwed in some way - literally and figuratively - and every one of them was thanking him for something he'd sent them. Apparently, he'd been a busy little beaver the night before and had destroyed every effort he'd made to shut these people out of his life for good. From the sound of things, he would have to once again tell everyone to piss off and leave him alone. As if he had time for that.

"How're you feeling?"

Dev turned around when Bailey entered the room and fixed him with a glare that immediately let the other man know how he was feeling.

"What did I do last night, Bails?" Dev asked softly, his eyes shooting daggers as he stepped towards his friend.

"I, er..." Bailey took an involuntary step back. "You spent most of the night with the phone and a set of the Yellow Pages. I just went to bed when you told me you didn't want to fool around."

"I said that?" Dev looked a little horrified at the idea of not being in the mood.

"Yeah. And you kept saying all this shit about making amends because you didn't want to die alone."

The look of horror on Dev's face intensified and he sat down heavily on the arm of the couch.

"Shit, man," he whispered. "I never thought I'd say this, but..."

Bailey looked a little concerned when Dev didn't finish his thought. "What is it?"

Dev looked up at his friend and shook his head as he thought about all the damage he'd done in one night. "Drugs can really mess you up."
the_sexy_quinn: (Default)
I've been accused of being careless with other people's feelings. When I walked out on my ex, I think his exact words were, "You're poison. You should come with a warning label." Not very original, I know. I was pretty surprised he couldn't be more creative since the man was a professor. But I digress.

It isn't my fault that I'm so self-absorbed. When I was growing up, I was given practically everything I wanted, I got away with murder when it came to my behavior, and even though I've told my family I want them to leave me alone so I can spread my wings a little, they are still ready to give me anything I want at a moment's notice. They love me too much and that's why I'm so self-centered and oblivious to the effect my actions have on other people.

[private thoughts]

It also helps me to stop people from getting too close to me. The moment that happens, I'm done for. It's so much safer this way.
the_sexy_quinn: (hey)
I'm good at whatever I want to do, a lot of things come pretty easily to me, and I've been blessed with smarts and good looks. Thankfully, all of this means I'm great at presenting a certain persona to the people I see every day. I call 'em like I see 'em and never feel apologetic for being upfront and honest. My mother hates that about me - she claims I was raised with good breeding and that by being so blunt I show a distinct lack of class - but that's mainly because I call her on a lot of her hypocrisy. Being who I am means a lot to me. So should that belief in myself really make me crazy? Is this Chesterton quote honestly a fair statement? And am I really saying that I'm one of those men?

[private thoughts]

If so, why is it that when I'm alone and forced to confront my own thoughts, I feel so damn unsure of myself? It's the most frustrating thing I've had to face. Here I am with all of these things going for me, and underneath it all I wonder when someone's going to catch on and expose me as a fraud. I loathe introspection and self-pity. The mere fact that I have to ruin a perfectly good thing by having self-doubt irks me to no end. If believing in myself means ending up in an asylum, hand me a damn straightjacket because the alternative is an uncomfortable tangle of insecurity and anxiety I have to drown in the distilled beverage of my choice almost every night. That's another thing. Personal demons are such a cliché and here I am constantly trying to corral the ones I have and shut them away in the deepest recesses of my mind.