And now it was Friday, 4 p.m., exactly four weeks to the day, almost to the very hour of what they had started in that hotel room in London.
Monica was lying on her bed. Everything was ready. She had showered and put on her sexiest fragrance, the one Chandler claimed turned him into a wild beast. The blinds were lowered and she had put a red silk scarf on the bedroom lamp so the room was bathed in a soft red golden glow. Last but not least she had put on her 'something special'. It was black and clingy and seemed to consist entirely of laces and filmy shimmering fabric of essentially nothing.
She turned on her back and spread her arms wide, then drew up her legs a little and opened them invitingly, trying to imagine how it would go. He would knock on the door and come in, freezing on the spot while he took it all in, his jaw dropping and his eyes bulging. Then he'd shut the door, turn the key as a precaution if he didn't forget, and approach the bed, still open-mouthed, maybe even drooling (well not actually drooling, that would be too messy). He would put a knee on the bed and bend over her, or maybe even jump on the bed right over her, straddling her, and maybe moan and growl at her, and then they would kiss. He might actually take a few seconds to tear out of his clothes, but her guess was that he would go for her right away as he was. She would bury her hands in his hair as he let his lips wander all over her, snuffling in her scent, and sliding his hands over her breasts, as he went down on her. Then he would kneel between her legs and she would hook her legs over his shoulders and cross her ankles over his back, and he would lift up her hips groping for the buttons and find out how that black garment of nothing could be opened at the bottom, and then he would cradle her buttocks in both hands and press his face against her mount, snuffling, nibbling, licking her, just coming up again long enough to tear his shirt over his head and fling it away and then carry on. She would clench her hands in his hair and drum her legs on his back in her throes, convulsing and screaming uncontrollably as her arousal reached its peak. At last she would pull him up and over her and claw at the zipper and button of his pants, hooking her thumbs over the waistbands and push his pants and boxers together down over his hips. His penis, by then already fully erect and throbbing, would spring free and she would grab it and hold it, rub it a little, savoring the feel of it in her palms, its warmth, the way it quivered in her hands. She would brace her feet on the bed and raise her hips to hold the tip of his penis against her entrance, press it against her clitoris, stroke herself with it a few times, then let it slowly slide inside her, deeper and deeper, and it would fill her up, turn her insides to mush, to a hot quivering goo, would make her feel like no other man had ever made her feel before, never in all her life. He would bend forward and kiss her as he pushed deeper and she would taste herself on him as their lips pressed together and their tongues entwined. He would start to move, push against her, slowly at first and then harder and harder, and she would pump her hips against him, answering his every move, increasing their speed, until their climaxes would overtake them, roll through them, letting him collapse on her …
Just imagining it all turned her on so much already that they could probably skip the foreplay altogether when he arrived. By the way, where was he? Would he really be late again, on this day of all days? It was five minutes past four, maybe he wanted to make his entrance at 4.15 hours exactly, like she had in London in his hotel room …
But no, there was his knock. Bless him for being punctual. She took a deep breath and turned on her side, putting one knee up and toying at her cleavage with one hand.
"Come in …. I've been waiting for you …" in as sexy and promising a voice she could muster.
The door opened, and it was Rachel, not Chandler. Rachel, with her eyes on the bunch of mail in her hands that she was still sorting, and striding in –
"Hi, I just wanted - - - AAAHHHH, OH MY GOD, Monica, oh my god!" And she fled the bedroom with her hands over her eyes, in total shock. Monica who felt as if an ice cold shower had hit her, grabbed her bathrobe and ran after her roommate, confronting her in the kitchen.
"I'm sorry … I'm sorry - I - I was - was taking a nap!"
Rachel stared at her open-mouthed. "Since when do you take naps in that position?!"
Good question. And her mind was a total blank. Oh god, why why why did that have to happen, now of all times? What to tell her, what to tell her, would everything come out now? No, oh please no.
"Oh God Monica, tell me you were waiting for a guy! Please tell me you were waiting for a guy!" Rachel pleaded, almost in hysterics now.
"Yes. Yes, I was. A guy. From work!" The very idea made her cringe, but if this actually worked - "I'm seeing a guy from work! Ha!"
And bless her, Rachel swallowed it hook, line and sinker. All of a sudden she seemed to have gotten over her shock. "Ooohh, that cute waiter guy from your restaurant, the one that looks like a non-threatening Ray Liotta?"
Oh my god, not that jerk, who kept spelling "quiche" like "quicke" – and wasn't he gay too?
"Uh-huh, that one!" Anybody really, as long as she fell for it. And thank god, it actually looked like she had her convinced.
"Okay, just give me a second and I'll be out of your hair. I'm just going to grab a jacket, and when I get back, I want every little detail …!"
There was the drawback. Now she would have to embellish the story, paint it in the most vivid colors imaginable just to satisfy her …
Her breath caught when they both heard a knock on the door.
"Maybe that's him!" Rachel smiled conspiratorially and actually went to open the door. Oh my god, oh my god …
"Okay, umm, okay, umm …" The door opened and – "It's just Joey and Ross." Today must be her lucky day. Unless there were any more close calls? Surely Chandler would have seen those two on the stairs? If he was already in the building and not delayed?
Joey made a beeline for her fridge as usual, and Ross was talking on his cell phone – thank god, he wasn't taking any notice of her in her bathrobe. Joey, who did notice, but for a wonder didn't comment on it, just scowled when Rachel asked why they weren't at the movie as planned.
"Ross was talking so loud on his phone they threw us out!" he grumbled.
"I had to talk loud because the movie was loud!" Ross spat.
"He's talking to London!" Joey shrugged. Yeah, figured. A wonder he wasn't broke already from the phone bill. And he still hadn't tracked Emily down, only some members of her family …
"I-I-I don't care if I said some other girl's name you prissy, old twit!"
… who had to bear the brunt of his temper instead. Yeah, right, way to suck up to the family – Joey was right on the money there.
And then Chandler finally entered, blissfully unaware, grinning happily and waving a bottle of champagne. His own "something special" to celebrate their fourth week. He caught sight of the others and froze in mid-grin, then changed gear with amazing speed. She never failed to be impressed by how fast he could think on his feet.
"I'm so glad you guys are all here!" He offered them the champagne bottle with his goofiest grin. "My office finally got wrinkle free fax paper!"
.
.
It was a wrench, but she had no choice – if she wanted to get changed, she had to let Rachel take care of the glasses for Chandler's champagne, while she escaped to her bedroom as unobtrusively as possible. Once there she hurriedly threw on her sweats over the sexy nothing and removed the red scarf. Saved once more. And by a hair's breadth again. If Chandler had come sooner – well, actually Rachel would never have walked in uninvited, but as sure as hell would have gotten an earful at least. Another lucky escape. One of these days their luck was bound to turn – it didn't bear thinking.
When she came out of the bedroom again, everything seemed under control. Ross was still screaming down his phone and Joey had switched his beer for a glass of the champagne, clinking with Rachel and Chandler at the kitchen table. When she joined them, Chandler offered her a glass and clinked her with his and for a long moment their eyes met. She tried to stand as close to him as possible and still make it look casual. The champagne was excellent, cool and smooth, with an exciting tickle as it went down. It was really a shame that Rachel and Joey had already almost had two thirds of the bottle between them. It would have been perfect for before and/or afterwards … Oh well, spilt milk. This wasn't the last champagne on earth and there would surely be other occasions to enjoy some.
Then Rachel was sidling closer again, with that dangerous shine in her eyes.
"So Mon, what about your secret boyfriend, shouldn't he be here by now?"
She shrugged, very conscious of Chandler's sardonic glance. "He must have been held up somehow. Why?"
"Well, if he makes it, give him my regards." Rachel put on her jacket again. "And remember, I want to know everything! Oh, I wish I didn't have to leave, but I've got an office thing – oh god, I'm late. Anyway, I'm sooo glad you finally have someone! I'm so happy for you!"
"Well … thanks. I'm not sure I'll tell him – but thanks …" she finished lamely. Rachel shot her a mischievous glance and left. Chandler grinned at her, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.
"Secret boyfriend?!" he asked innocently. Joey had wandered off again and was watching Ross as he argued on his phone, but still she didn't dare do more than glare at him.
"I don't care that your cousin's a divorce lawyer. He could be the queen's divorce lawyer for all I care. I want to talk to my wife! My wife! And I'm gonna keep calling until I can talk to her, you can write that down and chew on it! Write it – hello? HELLO? Did you hang up on - Oh no, oh god –" Ross was staring at his phone, shoulder's slumping.
"What is it?" Joey asked solicitously as Ross shook the phone and tapped it.
"My phone, it's dead … I need to recharge it. Great. Just great."
"Thank god!" said Joey fervently and Ross shot him a withering glance, then sighed. "Alright, I guess it's no use today anyway. Want to see if we can catch that movie at the next show?"
Joey jumped up wordlessly and almost shoved Ross out of the apartment. Monica just barely intercepted him at the door in time to retrieve her champagne flute from him. And then they were gone, and she and Chandler stared at each other as they realized that they were alone after all. She took a deep breath and grinned.
"Is there any champagne left?"
Chandler held the bottle against the light. "A little bit … here you go." He topped up their glasses, until nothing was left in the bottle, then drew her to him with one arm, while he raised his glass to her.
"To London Time." They took a sip and then almost simultaneously put back the glasses on the table and reached out for each other. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her face against his shoulder, while he stroked her hair and held her close. She raised her head to kiss him, closing her eyes. And then giggled, when he came upon an edge of the black nothing under her sweatshirt and frowned at it.
"So what was that all about with the secret boyfriend?"
"Rachel walked in on me. She knocked – and I thought it was you …"
"Oh. Oh!" he grinned broadly. "Really? Good thing I was late then."
She cuffed him in the ribs. "It's not funny!"
"No, no you're right. Actually it's very serious. Do you realize that if the others hadn't come in, we would have been doing it now for half an hour already? This is unacceptable really. I shall take measures."
"Well, what are we waiting for then? Who knows when they'll be back …"
He smiled and began to steer her towards the bedroom, then remembered the glasses and took them up.
"Soooo – did you at least give Rachel an eyeful?"
"Oh yeah. She was totally shocked. Ran out as if she'd seen a ghost."
Chandler stopped in front of the bedroom, smiling dreamily. "Um, would you mind …?"
She laughed, took the glasses from him and kissed him briefly on the corner of his mouth.
"Nope. Just give me a minute."