2 days earlier, London, 9 p.m.
She couldn't go to bed. It was out of the question. For one thing it was still early. Just gone 9. Also, if she went to bed in her current mood, it would only get worse and worse. She'd toss and turn, find no rest, get another drink from the minibar, feel bad about the price of the drink, drink it anyway, and in the end cry herself to sleep. And in the morning she would look (and feel) like something the cat dragged in. Not really appropriate for a bridesmaid.
If only. If only. If only.
If only that idiot guy hadn't taken her for Ross's mother. If only she hadn't listened to him. If only her mother had left her alone. If only it was her that was getting married and not Ross – for the second time already while she didn't even have a boyfriend. And ah yes, the alltime topper – if only she had a boyfriend. There hadn't been anyone for so long. And why again was she always attracted to guys that turned out to have something fundamentally wrong with them? Richard had been nearly perfect, but when it turned out he didn't want kids (at least he had been honest about that), she also had to realize that he had been too old and set in his ways. Pete had been too gawky and awkward at first and when they had made a go of it after all, he had to go all nuts with that Ultimate Championship thing. She had loved him, but when he allowed himself to be beaten to a pulp right in front of her, she had no choice but to quit. Timothy was nice, but too much Richard's son, and she was glad there had only been that one kiss. Julio – urgh, best not go there. Fun Bobby was an alcoholic and no fun at all anymore, drunk or not. Ethan was too young. Alan had not really cared enough. Oh good lord, everybody, every f-ing body had something wrong with them! It was like her love life was jinxed. Doomed. Forever.
Monica sat on the bed she vaguely thought of as 'hers' even though it didn't matter since Rachel hadn't come. Which was a pity. It would have complicated things with Ross and Emily, true, but maybe it would have taken a bit of the heat off from her – ah, well, who was she kidding. It wouldn't have made any difference, only given Emily one more thing to worry about. She sighed, finished her glass in one go, got up again and went to the Minibar.
She took out the whisky bottle, winced at the price, and put it back again. Then gritted her teeth, took it out again, sloshed the whisky in her glass and knocked half of it back. And then she noticed the chips. And the mini salamis. And the nuts assortment. And a small voice inside her spoke up.
Eat it. Eat everything … you'll feel better. Get into your jammies, turn on the TV, get into bed and eat.
Monica's eyes glazed over. She could taste the chips already, washed down with coke (and no diet coke shit, the real stuff or nothing) and chased by salami. Or maybe she could ask the front desk how to go about ordering a pizza, and the pizza place probably offered desserts too, chocolate pudding or cookies even if she was lucky. She could pig herself as much as she wanted. Nobody would care.
YAY, let's do that! YUM!
That was the fat girl in her head. It was rare to speak up for her nowadays, and most of the times Monica dismissed her without batting an eyelid. Teenage Monica had never been able to resist that voice, never even wanted to, but adult Monica had it much easier because there was always someone around to look after her, watch her giving in and get her to stop herself in time. Only now …
Now she was alone. Nobody was around. Nobody to talk to, to distract her. Anyway, just about the only thing that could stop a feeding frenzy once she had begun to think about it, was company. Someone to talk to, to be with, share something with … a movie, a game, a cuddle … or best of all, sex.
Just sex, just the physical act, something to lose herself in and make her forget everything for a while. She could masturbate – actually she had gotten quite good at it in the last boyfriendless year. By now she could think herself into climaxing and in under a minute too. But would that be enough now? Enough to forego the pizza and the chips and the coke and the chocolate pudding and/or cookies?
No way. She would like to think so – above all else Monica loved to be selfsufficient and independent – but with the amount of alcohol in her and all her emotional defences down, she thought masturbation would only make it worse. And she still would end up pigging herself in front of the TV.
Just a bit sweatier and more relaxed.
So sex, okay, but with who (or whom? Damn, she was really drunk). Actually, for providing good quality sex with no questions asked there was only one readily available guy with the right references. Joey. Or was he available? Monica frowned. She hadn't paid attention to him at the dinner, because she had felt too sorry for Chandler with his bungled Best Man speech – and of course for herself. She only dimly remembered Joey being homesick and wanting to leave. That would be perfect – he would need distraction as much as herself. It was still early enough for him to still be up, probably watching TV in bed and be bored out of his mind. If she could get him to her room, the rest would be no problem. Not with Joey. She was sure about it. Yes, he would have doubts, but if she played her cards right … And anything was better than the feeding feast Little Fat Girl had in her mind.
She was already halfway to the door when it occurred to her that she had brought no condoms (and why should she have?) and Joey might chicken out after all if there was a delay and he got enough time to reconsider. Where could she get condoms? Was there a vending machine in the public toilet downstairs? Or wait … She went into the bathroom and rummaged in her toiletry bag. Yes, there it was, her diaphragm. She had no idea why she had left it in the bag when she packed for London, except that she didn't like to leave it lying around in her bathroom and have one of the guys (especially Ross …) ask her about it. They seemed to use her bathroom more often than their own, not that she could blame them.
The diaphragm would be enough, she was very sure she was well past the fertile time in her cycle anyway. Not that it had mattered in the past months, but she had always liked to know what was going on in her body and always kept track. And look how it had paid off now.
She hitched up her dress, took off her panties and put the diaphragm in sitting on the toilet. When she was finished she started drawing her panties up, then reconsidered and took them off again, and her bra too. Telling Joey she was going commando would be a surefire thing to shorten out his brain and let his libido take over. The dress was easy to slip out off once she loosened the zipper at the back. Perfect.
She took the whisky glass, because it was still half full and also to have something to hold onto – and shut the door behind her. There was nobody in the hallway. Chandler and Joey's room was five doors down. She set out purposefully, one hand clenching the glass and the key card in the other. Why hadn't she brought a bag? Too late to go back, it might change her mind. Yet halfway down the hall she slowed anyway.
Oh god. What if he's not there? What if Chandler's there too? Wouldn't he suspect something? Of course he would. She didn't like to admit it, but Chandler was the one guy who probably knew her best of all, maybe better than Phoebe, let alone Rachel (who was always too self involved in Monica's opinion). Chandler did care about her, always had, as much – or probably more – than she cared about him. True, that quick sarcastic tongue of his usually kept her at a certain distance – that and all his selfdeprecating jokes that only irritated her. She hated it when men thought too little of themselves, she was too insecure in herself, thank you very much. Yet there were a lot of good sides to Chandler. He could be thoughtful and caring and almost as anxious to please as she was herself. It had really impressed her when he had asked her advice about sex with Kathy, especially since he seemed to have followed it so well. And even though the horrible thing with the jellyfish last summer had completely freaked her out (just the idea that someone actually peed on her still made her shudder) she had to admit that it had been really brave and selfless on his part, especially so since even Joey hadn't been able to go through with it. And in the aftermath of the breakup with Kathy he had kept blaming himself and his misery had touched her much more than all of Ross's and Rachel's wallowings in drama combined had ever done.
So, the chance of having Chandler suspect even a little of her motifs of luring Joey away was almost enough to put her off altogether. Now what?
He might not be there. He could have gone back to the party. It wasn't inconceivable.
I'll just make sure, she thought. If there's a light under the door, I'll knock. If it's dark, I'll look for Joey downstairs. That is, if mom and dad aren't still around. Well, we'll cross that bridge …
There was light under the door. Monica took a deep breath and knocked. Inside it was rather quiet – too quiet. No TV sounds. Wouldn't Joey watch TV?
The door was opened and there was Chandler, resplendent in blue cowboy pyjamas. She almost laughed out loud. She hadn't seen these particular PJs before, since back home he usually went to bed in his boxers and a t-shirt, but obviously he was uncomfortable with anything less than an official nightwear set when traveling – just like her actually. She was sure that he had packed a bathrobe too, even though the hotel always provided them.
"Hey!" he said, a little surprised and maybe even pleased a bit. Somehow this set her on edge.
"Cute PJs!" she teased him. "You're really living it up here in London, huh?"
He just grinned, and she remembered how he had explained to her that he didn't embarrass that easy anymore. Not since his mother had bought him a speedo for the school swim competition, and condoms when he had his first girlfriend – that is, pretended to have a girlfriend. Okay, but it was still mean. Down Geller. Don't take it out on him.
"Well, I wasn't exactly expecting company after .." he glanced at this watch ".. 9:15. .."
He looked so dismayed she almost felt sorry for him, then he shrugged it off just like that. Typical. When he stepped aside to let her in, she saw what she had suspected before – he was alone. The far bed was still covered up and quite obviously not used. Still she had to make sure.
"Is Joey here?"
"Well, the last time I saw him he was heading out the door with his bridesmaid and a bucket of strawberries." Chandler said dryly and shut the door. Monica wanted to kick herself. How could she have forgotten the bridesmaid? She had approached Joey as soon as he finished his homesicknessladen speech and of course Joey of all people would never pass a chance like this up. Oh god, what now? Pizza after all?
"So, you're still not upset about what that guy told you, are you?"
Monica realized that Chandler sounded really concerned. Just like when he had brought her to her room after that debacle at the reception when that idiot drunk had taken her for Ross's mother ... urgh, it still hurt to think about it. Yet Chandler had been so sweet. It would have been so easy, even natural for him to add to her anguish by teasing her, but instead he had tried to console and calm her, and then managed to take her away before something even more horrible could happen. She really ought to be more gracious.
"Well, wouldn't you be?" But even as she said it, she realized it didn't hurt that much anymore. It was just the booze making her maudlin and self-pitying. Already she was getting over it. She put the glass on the table and vowed to stop drinking. There, that felt better already.
And Chandler, dear Chandler, took up immediately where he had left in front of her room earlier.
"Well, look, it's been a really emotional time for you, and you've had a lot to drink. You've just GOT to let that GO, okay?"
Monica stared at him, her emotional defences still down, but her brain slowly clearing, and now focusing on a new target. Funny how she had never really noticed how cute he was. Standing there in his childish PJs and staring earnestly at her (but somehow they still looked nice on him, the blue color accented his eyes …) and gesturing wildly. So cute and cuddly. So … appealing.
"I mean you were the most beautiful woman in the room tonight!"
It was as if something in her brain had shifted. There were goosebumps running up and down her spine. Chandler. Could she really be attracted to him now? Oh my God, she couldn't believe it.
"Really?" It couldn't be, and yet … he really did look handsome. Even a little hot with that tousled hair and those blue eyes. Now if he really meant what he said –
"Are you kidding? You're the most beautiful woman in most rooms …"
That did it. Before she could stop herself she jumped at him, threw her arms around his shoulders and desperately pressed her lips on his. He stumbled and made a surprised mumpfh sound, but caught himself again just when she thought he would crumple on her again, as he had when she had sailed into him on her roller skates. And then – glory be, praised be that typical male instinct to hold on no matter what – she felt his arms go around her as they steadied into the kiss. AND kissed her back. Just a little, probably by instinct too, but still …
And my, wasn't it good? It did feel good. His body felt good too against hers. He was so warm and strong, and he smelled good too. The PJs were obviously freshly laundered – always a turn-on for her - and he had brushed his teeth quite recently.
Then – much too soon – he let her go and stepped back, staring at her completely bewildered. If only they could skip that part ….
"Whoawhoawhoa – what's going on?! You and I just made out! You and I are making out?!"
"Well, not anymore …" Now she had done it, freaked him out. And it had been so good! Please god, don't let him freak out, I really need this, I can't bear to lose it again …
"But we don't do that." That still sounded just bewildered, not indignant. Maybe there was hope after all.
"I know, I just thought it would be fun." She was pleading now. Oh God. Don't make me beg him. But if that's what it takes … He stared at her, mouth working and eyes shifting, obviously working on the pros and cons. God, guys could be so easy to read sometimes. Make that most of the times.
"How drunk are you?" he asked abruptly. Ah, that was better, she could work with that.
"Drunk enough to know that I want to do this. Not so drunk that you should feel guilty about taking advantage." She shot back. He absorbed it quietly, still looking at her, working it out –
And then he took the plunge. Glory, glory, hallelujah.
"Wow, that's the perfect amount!"
"Okay!" She wanted to cheer and jump with joy, but there was no time for that, he had gotten hold of her again already and drew her to the bed. They sat down and this time he kissed her, with no hesitation at all. She marveled how fast he had made up his mind. Maybe he had had a bit too much to drink too? Even better. She closed her eyes and lost herself in the kiss, the feel of his lips, his breath on her cheek, his hands on her waist, his shoulders, his hair … It was sooo good, just what she had wanted, exactly what the doctor ordered, so absolutely and so weirdly perfect …
She hadn't even noticed that she had drawn back until she spoke her thought aloud.
"You know what's weird?"
Chandler looked dazed. "What?"
"This doesn't feel weird!"
His eyes regained focus again. "I know!" And oh, he sounded so awed. So he really understood, felt exactly like she did. How perfect was that?
"You're a really good kisser." It was the absolute truth. So far, his kissing was definitely among the top three. At least. Aww, and there was that cute, selfdeprecating grin of his.
"Well, I have kissed over four women." Of course he had to squeeze in a joke. This was Chandler. But she let it go, because he immediately kissed her again. AND took the initiave again – more points for him.
"Do you want to get under the covers?"
Did she?! Did the pope … no time for that now, because hell, yeah!
All of a sudden the need was there, the desire, so urgent it made her head spin. She jumped up and barely beat Chandler to the head of the bed, kicked off her shoes on the way so they landed almost at the bathroom door, loosened the dress, slid under the covers and let it slide down her body all in the same motion, pushed it to her feet – and then watched Chandler making a great show of kicking and tearing his way out of his PJs as if he had to free himself from a bunch of tentacles that were suffocating him. His pants almost landed on Joey's bed and his jacket followed suit. It was exhilarating to see him in such a tearing hurry.
"Wow, you are really fast!"
That instantly put him into his dry humor mood again. "It bodes well for me that speed impresses you." Did he really have to do that all the time? But then, oh well, why not? She wasn't feeling really romantic after all. Romance had no place here, she wanted sex, not emotions, and if they had to make a game of it for it to work, so be it.
"We could see each other naked." She offered. Come on, come on …
"Yep!" His eyes gleamed. Yes, he was game.
"Do you wanna do it at the same time?"
"Count of three?" Definitely on the game. She was so happy she wanted to sing.
"One!"
"Two!" "Two!"
"Three!" Simultaneously.
Up went the covers. It gave her a rush just to see him looking at her, take in her body, to feel his gaze on her breasts, her belly, her mound … And looking at him even heightened the rush. He was not as thin as she had always thought him to be, apparently he had filled a little in the last year or so without her really noticing. His ribs weren't visible any more at least. The amount of chest hair was just right, not too much and not too little – she hated it when guys were totally smooth, it made them look like mannequins. And that cute hairline going down to his navel and beyond … and oh my, who would have thought really he was that packing? AND already good to go. Wow. Wow. Wow! How lucky could you get?! When they put the covers down again she couldn't stop smiling. Chandler was searching for words, not that she cared.
"Well I think it's safe to say that our friendship is effectively ruined."
So? Who cares? I don't!
"Eh, we weren't that close anyway!" Maybe not the whole truth, but screw it.
"Eh!" he agreed and reached out for her as she reached out for him, pressed against him and kissed him, wildly excited. His erect penis poked her belly and she shifted, tried to slide her leg over his hip and get him on top … Suddenly he pushed her away and frantically pulled the covers over her.
"Joey, Joey, Jojojo-joey..!" he gasped and then she heard it too, the clumsy fumbling at the unfamiliar doorlock, until finally figuring it out. It had just given them enough time to get their wits back about them. Monica froze in place, hardly daring to breathe, and not daring to take away her hand that was still on Chandler's waist. Please don't let Joey notice anything. Please let him be gone quick. Was he alone? Or did he bring that bridesmaid? What was her name again? Felicity? Why did that matter now? Oh God…
"Hey Joe!" Good, he almost sounded normal. "I was just watching a movie-e-e…" Shoot. Not so good. She felt him cringe under her hand. Now Joey said something, but she couldn't really catch it through the covers. Chandler protested loudly, then Joey said something again, longer this time.
"They're in my bag over there." Calmer now. A pause and then -
"Um, could you leave me one?"
No! We don't need one! It'll only make him suspicious! Still, he deserved even more points for thinking ahead, even in such an absurd situation.
There was more talking and fobbing off on Chandler's side and then she heard Joey coming closer – nooo! – and more talking.
"All right, here you go buddy. Go nuts!"
Will do, never fear. Now get out! Oh thank God, that was the door. About time really, it was getting good and hot under the covers. And she couldn't breathe properly. She withdrew her hand just as Chandler shifted and pulled back the covers. They stared at each other gasping for breath and Chandler held out the condom to her with a half deprecating, half triumphant grin. He was still blushing, but couldn't care less. She took the condom and put it on the night table, then she pulled him close.
"We don't need it!" she whispered. "I've put my diaphragm in … yes I'm sure. It's safe. But that was quick thinking." He breathed out and returned her kiss and they sank back on the pillows. Monica pressed against him hungrily and rubbed her breasts against his chest. God, it felt so good. It had been so long, she couldn't wait anymore. She slid her leg up his waist, pressed her calf against his ass to get him closer still, against her, on top of her …
"Please, please, I'm ready, I really … oh God … yes …" Bless him, oh bless him for not wasting any more time. He had gotten on top and slid his hands under her, one under her shoulders and one under her ass, lifting and pressing her against him while he tried to get the angle right. Panting and trembling she took him in hand and guided him inside. Then he didn't need any more help.
"Ah! Ah! Oh yes! .. ah – oh mmmmhpf.. mmmh.."
It was much too hasty, too much of a rush-job to deserve any labeling as truly great sex, but as a start it was just what she needed. She had been so achingly ready, so desperately impatient that she was simply unable to draw it out. It was like in her teenage days when she had spent the whole evening buying or later preparing as much food as she could and then gorge herself on it, stuffing everything in her mouth as fast as it would go, getting hiccups and stomach cramps, breathing some of it in accidentally and coughing it up again, and never getting enough. It was great while it lasted and always over too quickly. Usually she tried not to let that happen when she had sex, but this time … this time she just had to have it this way.
Fortunately Chandler didn't seem to mind. It even seemed to her that he understood her need and tried to fulfill it. At least he did a great job of holding her down and pounding into her exactly like she wanted him too, panting harder and harder yet never pausing. Within minutes she climaxed, screaming and digging her nails into his back and ass, and he never even flinched, but just held her until her shuddering eased. Then he lay still and buried his head in her neck, gently nibbling at her clavicle.
"Wooooowww" he breathed at last. "That was fast. Are you okay?"
"Uh huh. Yep. Never better." She was still out of breath, but she did feel better. The urgency was gone. She felt herself relax, muscle by muscle. Then she realized he was still hard.
"You? Did you …?"
"Nope. Held it in. Didn't want to .. waste it." He lifted his head a little and grinned at her. "It was a good warm-up though. Really fast, I mean … really –"
"Chandler. Shut up."
"Okay." He kissed her neck again, lingeringly, then proceeded downward to her breast, gently sucking up a bit of skin and letting it go again, lightly brushing his teeth over the nipples …
"Ooouuch!"
"Sorry. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to claw you like … oh God. No, there's no blood."
"Sure? Okay then." And he lowered himself again on her.
"I promise, I'll be more careful. Or maybe I could cut my nails?"
"No. No, it's okay. No, honestly, Monica, it's okay! Don't worry about it! It's nothing. It's better already. Truly!"
She lay back again and chuckled a little, then couldn't stop giggling. Chandler looked puzzled but laughed a little with her.
"What?"
"I dunno … maybe we could try handcuffs …"
"Yeah, I'm sure those are included in the standard service of Marriott's." She giggled harder at that.
"Or you could tie me up." He made a face at that and shook his head.
"Or not. Well, I'll be more careful. It just felt so good .."
"Glad to hear it" he murmured into her shoulder. "Always happy to serve." And then -
"Am I too heavy?"
"No." She started to put her arms around him, but he caught her wrists in his hands and stretched her arms out along with his, holding her down that way. "There. Now keep still. Keep still!" He had slid out of her during the process and she frantically tried to pull him in again with her legs. He wouldn't have it and she subsided again while he continued kissing and nibbling his way down her chest to her navel, kneeling over her. When she couldn't keep still, he sat on one of her legs and held the other down with his elbow. Just when she thought he would go all the way down, he went up again, this time on the other side, and kissed the sensitive area between her ribs and pelvis with more attention to detail than she could bear.
"Chandler, not that I'm complaining… ah, um, ah… definitely not complaining … ah… but … ah .. what are you doing ..? Don't you .. I mean, isn't it your turn ..?"
"It'll keep. Now you've done it, I've lost count .."
"What?"
"You know. I can't remember, was it five or three next?"
She stared at him, uncomprehending, until he grinned.
"Don't you remember? A two, a one, two, three, a three, a five, a four …"
"Oh my God!"
"You're welcome. A three-two; a two, a two-four-six .."
"Are you fucking kidding me? You learned that by heart?"
"Not quite, but it's coming back to me now … Ah yes … two-four-six …"
"Ahh! Awgh! Stop it … stop it … ah, oh God …"
"Four-seven, five-seven … six-seven, seven, seven …"
"Seven, SEVEN, SEVEN, SEVEN!" She had wrenched her hands free and buried her fingers in his hair, pressing him into her and bucking her hips. He stroked her sides, up and down, thumbs sliding over her breasts until her climax released her and she fell back, panting and whimpering. Then he stretched out beside her. She wanted to relax and enjoy the aftermath, but it bothered her that he still hadn't got what he was due. More than due.
"Chandler, that was two for me and none for you –"
"Sshhh. Don't worry, we have plenty of time."
"But it's not fair!"
"Of course not. But that's the way it is. No, seriously, Monica, it's okay. It's easy for you, you can come out of your ears and still go on, but once I've come, that's pretty much it. Knock off. COB. Finale. Well, not always. But I really don't want to waste it."
"Oh. Wow. Only once? You're sure?"
"Fairly sure" he admitted. "Well… maybe twice. I'd say, with you, twice wouldn't be impossible. What about you? Can you get it two more times?"
"Two? How about three?"
"Three more? Wow, that would make it seven altogether. Yeah, let's try that … oumpfh! Um … Mmmmh … yeah, okay, alright, let's have you on top now … Ouuuhh … oh yes … oh yikes .. aaaaaargghhh … careful … aaaargghhh…"
"Don't be – mmph - such a baby."
"Alright. And you shouldn't talk with your mouth full – Okay. Okay. Ow. OWWW!"
"Hold it, hold it … yeah, that's … oh yes … there … Aaaahhhh…"
They continued for a while, finding a rhythm that suited them both, while Chandler stroked her hips and her sides and she held onto his shoulders and played with his nipples. Finally they sped it up and then at long last the count was 3 to 1.
Then she fell asleep. Sometimes it happened that way, that she went out like a light, falling into deep sleep from one moment to the next. When she woke again it was still dark outside. Chandler was lying on his side with his back to her and she could make out the faintly luminous dial of his watch. 3.30 a.m. She badly needed to pee. She tried to locate her dress under the covers, but couldn't find it and finally slid out of the bed and darted into the bathroom naked and shivering. When she had finished she was horribly afraid that the flush would wake Chandler up. It seemed almost deafening to her. She darted back to the bed and slipped under the covers, snagging the sheet in the hurry. Chandler turned on his back suddenly and sat up.
"Huh, what?!"
"Shh. It's okay. Sorry for waking you. Go back to sleep."
"Uhmm." He glanced at his watch and lay back again. "Oh God. Okay. Ah, um .. could you…?"
"Bathroom?"
"Yeah .."
"Sure." She turned her head while he got out of bed and padded to the bathroom, and waited, noting approvingly that he did wash his hands after. Then he came out again, turned out the light and climbed back into bed. For some moments they lay still, facing each other. Then Chandler cleared his throat.
"Sooo … you want to leave it at 3:1?"
"As if!"
"Ah okay."
In the end they did make it to 5:2.
The inevitable letdown came in the morning, just after dawn. Monica woke to her brother's insanely enthusiastic shouting and spent half a minute of total terror and excruciating embarrassment before she realized that nothing had happened … yet. Or not?
"Do you think he saw me?" she asked wildly. Chandler shrugged helplessly. In the light of morning he looked just as embarrassed and terrified as she was. She couldn't bear to look at him and lay on her back propped up on her elbows instead, trying to calm down. Chandler clutched the covers to his chest and fumbled for words.
"Well, I've never .. done that with you before."
"Nope." Obviously.
"So .. ah, how are you? How are – you okay?"
"Yep, yep .." Just mad at herself for oversleeping and wanting to melt into the floor actually, but otherwise … "You?"
"Yes … Yes, uh-huh. You?" He finally looked at her and met her gaze. "We did you."
Now she started to feel sorry for him. And she really really had to leave.
"Well, I'd better get going."
"Oh yeah, absolutely!" he agreed. She slid to the side of the bed and then paused, hating herself for it, but knowing that she just couldn't possibly let him watch her get out of bed stark naked if her life depended on it. And where the hell was her dress?
"Could you not look?"
"I don't want to look!" Emphatically. Well, so far so good.
She found the dress bundled up at the foot of the bed, stepped into it and pulled up the zipper, gathered up her shoes and key card and almost ran to the door. There she paused helplessly – what if anyone saw her come out? What if Ross still barged about out there? What if her parents were up and saw her? OhGodohGodohGod …
"Want me to check for you?" Chandler had come up behind her. For one wild moment she thought he was still naked, then she saw that he had put on his pyjama pants. He opened the door, darted a look left and right and gave her a thumbs-up. She bolted from the room without even looking back and ran down the corridor. Only when she was back in her room did it occur to her that she ought to have thanked him at least, he really had been pretty decent about it all. Make that very decent. But she was too busy freaking out to really care.
It wasn't until shortly before the wedding ceremony that she finally had herself under control again and regained some perspective. There was really no reason to be so upset about it, nothing really dramatic had happened, nobody had a clue. Two good friends had helped each other out. No big deal. It didn't mean anything. Never had, never would.
The impending arrival of Rachel added to the distraction. She had been afraid of the moment when she and Chandler would have to walk down the aisle together, as if everybody would immediately find out once they got a good look at them together, but everything went fine. Still no big deal. When he hesitantly started to talk, she even found it in herself to act normally.
"What we did last night .. was …"
"Stupid." Keep smiling. Act normal.
"Totally crazy stupid." He was trying hard to appear normal too, nodding at people and smiling. This was getting to be fun.
"What were we thinking?"
His voice got more urgent. "I'm coming over tonight though, right?"
Ooops. Well. Well, it had been really good. Why on earth not?
"Oh yeah. Definitely."
And so they had started on that wonderfully fun but also rather frustrating game which rapidly developed into some kind of run-and-hide/searching quest, searching for a place, any place where they could have one more go at it and getting more desperate as time went on. Rachel had returned, Ross had bungled the wedding, Emily had vanished, everything went crazier by the minute and all they could think of was doing it once more, just the one time more. But it was no use. Even at their last resort, the honeymoon suite, they were interrupted before they had even turned down the covers. Chandler's quick wit saved them time and again, but it was hopeless. Their very last chance on the plane to New York when Chandler had the silly but great idea with the "international waters" didn't work out thanks to Joey. When she returned from her half hour wait at the toilets, Monica decided resolutely to cut her losses once and for all. Chandler was right, it wasn't meant to be and it did make that night more special. Something to be remembered, cherished even. But definitely over. Over and done with. After all, it didn't really make sense, what had just about worked in London could never ever work in New York, at home, in their daily routine, under the noses of their friends. No hope in hell. As nice as it would have been, it simply couldn't be. There was the Rule to consider. The sacred Rule. And their friends. The risk was just too great.
She held on to that thought, clung to it and resolutely pushed back every emotion, every tentative memory that stole into her brain during the remainder of the flight and their way home from the airport to Bedford St. By then she was pretty sure that Chandler was thinking along the same lines. Could be a part of him was still considering it – like in the cab when she caught him staring at her breasts for instance – but she knew he was just as concerned about their friendship and the risk to disrupting or even destroying the group as she was. They all had learned that lesson painfully and repeatedly while watching Ross and Rachel thrash out their relationship over and over again – always in front of them, rubbing it in while they could do nothing more than helplessly watch and try to calm the waters again after each storm. Thank God, they would have some days of peace from those two, until both were returned from wherever they were now – Monica did wonder vaguely about that, but was too tired to really care.
Finally the moment she had dreaded since they had landed came, sooner than she expected. She and Chandler were alone in her apartment, after Joey as well as Phoebe (who had shocked her to the core with her staggeringly astute observation) had left so unexpectedly. And she could not bear to look him in the eyes. It was so silly, they really ought to be able to talk about it. They were friends after all, had been for so long, had shared so much in the past. They had helped each other, consoled each other, laughed and cried together, fought and made up again. But now they had crossed that line, that boundary that had brought them so close physically but threatened to divide them now forever. Any why exactly? What was the big deal? They had had so much fun. It would have ended badly for her in London if it hadn't been for him and that night. That truly great night. Seven times! It was unbelievable. How could she have gotten so lucky? Why did she have to throw that away? Could nothing be salvaged?
Well, the least she could do was thank him. It was overdue really. First things first. And it would make her feel better.
He heard her out, fidgeting only a little, almost dropping the apple – so typical, and sooo cute – and then when he blurted out how much the night had meant to him too, because she was hot, she felt like a great weight had lifted from her. He was so sweet. Too bad they had to leave it like that. It seemed like such a waste of a good time. God knows there hadn't been much of a good time for her lately. For a long time actually. If only she could have it once again, once more, only one more time …
When they hugged, the brief physical contact set off a rush of emotions. Regret, disgust at her own weakness, struggle for rationality, relief that everything was okay, desire …
When he smiled at her over his shoulder at the door, she almost called him back. For a moment she felt herself swaying on the brink. Don't let him go, don't let him go, talk to him at least, he'll understand …
Then he was gone and she stood still, frozen in place by her indecisiveness. She felt torn – and then utterly lost. If only he would come back, if only he would take that decision from her … Like a sleepwalker she took a few steps towards the door. She could go to him, explain that they needed to talk about it a bit more …
No. She couldn't do that. It would be unfair. He would be afraid to hurt her feelings whatever decision he would make and in the end they would both be miserable. Better to end it now while there wasn't too much harm done.
The long empty afternoon stretched before her. She would unpack first, then clean – there would be a lot to clean after Phoebe's stay in the apartment for four days – and that at least would surely calm her down. By the evening she would have regained her balance again.
Or if not, you could always eat, the little fat girl whispered. Monica closed her eyes and for a moment desire overtook her, so strong it made her ache. No food whatever could ever fulfill that desire. Only that what she had just lost. Given away.
She took a deep breath and relaxed her hands again that had been clenched so tightly her nails had dug into her palms.
Then the door opened and Chandler came back, like the answer to a prayer. Monica stared at him openmouthed, unbelieving. Oh sweet lord he had come back. There he stood in the door staring at her while he sought for the right words and her heart went out to him. Go on, whatever you say, it'll be enough, because you came back.
"I'm still on London time, does that count?"
Of course it did. It was perfect. Truly and wonderfully perfect.