Producer’s Ring: Pitt vs. Faris

The Focus Group – Brad Pitt vs. Sean Faris


Brad Pitt was making movies when Sean Faris was in diapers.  Both men generated a lot of buzz from fight movies, Brad 10 years before Sean.  When Sean’s film hit bandwidth, he talked a lot of smack, including insisting that he could kick Brad’s ass.  “He’s, what, 20 years older than I am? Hell, does he still have all his original joints?”

Eli Brody had made a lot of money from Brad’s films, and he expected to make a lot of money from Sean’s.  But Eli was not pleased to have one member of his talent pool publicly trashing another.  It wasn’t good for the bottom line.  Eli sat in his office with a cocky Sean slumped in the chair in front of his desk, looking like he’d just been called into the principal’s office.

“Your media relations suck, Sean.  The way you’ve handled yourself in the past year has made me question if you’re film quality.  A recurring role in a daytime soap opera might be more your speed at this point in your career,” Eli chided.

Sean was furious.  “What the fuck!?  I’m golden and you know it!  I have to have two bodyguards to keep the girls from ripping me apart when I walk down the street,” Sean bragged.

“Girls are certainly one component of a winning market strategy,” Eli conceded.  “But I’m not bankrolling any more film projects for you without some clear evidence that you can draw the size and diversity of audiences I need to justify my investment.”  Sean sulked bitterly.  “You will be in Seattle at this address tomorrow” Eli handed him a card.  “You’ve got something good.  My instincts tell me that you can be a big star,” Eli said, grabbing his crotch beneath his desk.  “But I will not stake my fortune or political power on a not-ready-for-primetime punk.  I’ll be pulling together a focus group and mixing you up with someone else from my talent pool.  Come ready to show some passion and win over some new fans, or don’t come at all.”


Sean knocked on an unmarked door in a back alley behind an anonymous brick building.  A massively muscled blond hunk opened the door and waved Sean in, instructing him to change clothes in a dressing room at the end of the hallway.  Sean walked down the dark hallway past door-less, dark rooms with groans coming from inside.  Men stood in the hallway wearing nothing but towels around their waists, looking Sean up and down as he walked to the end of the hall.  At the end of the hall, Sean found the empty room where he was supposed to change clothes.  The only thing there for him to change into was a white towel.

Eli walked up as Sean was frozen, the towel in his hand, uncertain of what to do.  “You’ll need to take your clothes off, wrap that around your waist, and then follow me.”  Sean looked uncomfortable, but pulled off his training jacket, sweatpants, and tennis shoes, and stepped out of his boxer briefs, turning away from Eli.  He wrapped the towel around his waist, then turned and followed Eli down the hallway.  ” Continue reading “Producer’s Ring: Pitt vs. Faris”

Is it wrong that I find this incredibly sexy?

Of course, in my mind I easily photoshop out the woman and replace her with me. That hand on Sam Witwer’s bloody thigh is my hand. I’m the one perched cozily between his knees. I’m the one that’s been sucking the life out of every inch of his beautiful body. I’m the one that’s been squeezing his sweet, hard pecs with my right hand and massaging his balls with my left hand shoved underneath the bottom of his underwear.

Oh wait, that last bit actually doesn’t happen in this scene from Being Human via SyFy, at all. But you know me, I re-write scenes in my imagination all the time. The sexy vampire shows up in my homoerotic fantasies repeatedly, I note. I don’t find blood, in and of itself, erotic. But Sam, covered in stage blood, slipping and sliding on the bathroom tiles in an orgasmic feeding frenzy all works for me well and above what Sam’s barely clad body, by itself, does. Should this disturb me?

The same scene (really) from the original BBC version brings to mind the unavoidable comparison, and I’m hard pressed to say whether it’s Sam Witwer or Aidan Turner I’d rather be sliding across the blood soaked bathroom floor with. I hate Aidan’s floppy, needs-to-be-shampooed-more-often hair, so that’s a plus in Sam’s column. Sam also has a harder body. But damn, Aidan’s dark, hairy body along with the Irish accent evens the score in a blood pumping heartbeat. This is so much closer a call than I’d have guessed a few weeks ago. Only one good way to really sort this out, of course. These two suckers simply must fight it out, and there’s no place that will work other than a bath house arena in Seattle with boys in towels grunting and cheering them on to a final, decisive, explosive decision with copious amounts of body fluids.

Of course, if there’s a battle of beautiful boys for whom I’d be willing to overlook a little homicidal blood lust, whether it’s Aidan or Sam coming out on top, he’d have men of my fantasies waiting their turn for a shot. Slather Alexander Skarsgård in any liquid, including blood, and it’ll only make me swoon that much more for the giant Swede. Alexander is undefeated in the fictional wrestling competition in my imagination, and he plans on staying that way.

For all my infatuation with vampires, I still haven’t seen Vampire Diaries. It sounds bad from a distance. Still, Ian Somerhalder as a sexy, naked vamp is an inspiring picture. Ian got his ass beat hard in his only appearance in my wrestling fiction, but he put up a really good fight. I could imagine that he’d be nursing a hunger for some redemption.

And speaking of redemption, Sean Faris got beat bad and humiliated overwhelmingly in his only appearance in my wrestling fiction, losing hard and nasty in bare-assed action with Brad Pitt (specifically, with Brad’s bare ass smothering Sean’s smarmy face). But Sean joining Vampire Diaries makes me give him a second look. Perhaps Sean is primed to bite and claw his way back up the ladder of success. Of course, Brad also played a smoking hot vampire as well, so he may be primed for a return to action.

We’ve seen a Werewolf Rumble in my homoerotic wrestling imagination. Sooner or later, there’ll have to be a Blood Sucker Beatdown. Once the bitter yoke of work-related writing projects eases up, I’ll be posting more fiction.