A/N: Thank you for the continued support.

It's a Sunday morning and you have your face buried in a pillow that doesn't smell familiar. Your heart rate picks up and you think you can almost feel it beating out into the mattress. You take a deep breath and wrinkle your nose, as the scent of flowers and sex settle into your brain, you begin to remember.

You had been celebrating a birthday, your group of friends, being the people that they are, invited the table beside you over to join in on the festivities. There had been a woman—there was always a woman—you bonded over shots of tequila and pints of beer. You've always been very adamant, that you absolutely, under no circumstances, ever have one night stands. You don't believe in them. You're not really fond of STD's or losing a kidney to some black-market organ donor ring.

So when you roll onto your back to try and take in your surroundings, you realize that you are naked as the day you were born, and there's a dull ache in your jaw. You can't help but grin wolfishly to yourself as you stretch out.

You can hear water running from somewhere and assume the woman from the night before is in the shower. You take the time to make sure you're not missing a kidney—or any other organ—and survey the room.

You're eyes widen when you realize that you're in a hotel room, your eyes quickly scan the room for a day planner or a room service menu, your eye catches The Hyatt on a small note pad by the phone, Great now I have gonorrhoea and I'm broke…

You grumble as you roll off the bed, taking the bed sheet with you to keep out the chill of the room against your skin. Your phone rings from somewhere in the massive suite. You follow it to the other side of the room, stumbling over your boots and a pair of stilettos. You answer on the final ring with a gravelly, "Yeah?"

You hold the phone away from your ear as you receive a verbal thrashing from your roommate.

"Where the hell did you end up? I've called you four times! I even called the bar!"

You cringe, because he's justified in his out burst. It's no secret that you don't believe in one night stands, and so when you didn't come home, or at least tell him that you had no intention of coming home, he assumed the worst. "I'm sorry…I'm at the Park Hyatt, I have all of my organs, I think, and I think I still have my wallet, I can't find my pants…"

There's a sigh of relieved resignation and then, "What do you mean you can't find your pants, did you sleep with that girl from last night?" You can hear in his voice that he's caught between proud and appalled…

"Uh, if you're talking about the one with the eyes, then yeah, I think I did" He chuckles, "You think? What else could you have done, watched the fucking Lion King?"

You explain in very colourful language; that you will meet him for a late brunch. Provided last night's foray into sexual deviance hasn't left you penniless, and hang up the phone.

You drop the bed sheet, and go about gathering your things. You have your backside in the air, reaching under the back of the couch for a sock, when you hear a door creak open and a wolf whistle behind you. You freeze for a moment. Then slowly stand to your full height.

Turning to face the other woman. Your eyes travel from the very top of her head; to the very tips of her toes, your brows knit. As you wonder why anyone would ever need to paint their toenails. She's all sun-kissed skin and pouty lips.

Damn.

You appreciate your view of her in a robe, barely falling to mid thigh. You have to shake away the memory of those thighs wrapped around your head. You decide instead, to remember what her nails felt like raking down your back, while you had two fingers buried knuckle deep inside her.

"Morning"

Her voice still drips with sex, and you maybe consider skipping brunch. As she seems to almost glide towards where you're stood behind the couch, and tangle her fingers in your already sex mangled hair. She slants her mouth over yours, and on a shared breath she kisses you as if she is trying to commit you to memory.

It's when you've got her hoisted up on the back of the couch, her robe open and falling off of her left shoulder; with your teeth grazing over the top of her right breast, that you remember that you need to leave. You shower and dress quickly, she's on the phone, and you catch small keywords like, 'revenue' and 'litigation', and wonder just a little about who she is.

You're flying out the door when she grasps your upper arm and tugs you back with,

"Don't worry about the room."

Your eyes widen in shock, "Thank you…"

You don't know her name…she definitely knows yours though.

"It's Quinn" she says shyly, almost amused as you fumble to remember her name.

You nod, "Thank you Quinn, it was nice meeting you." You give her what would be the first and only chaste kiss shared between the two of you and you leave.

A/N: Chapter Two to follow soon...