"There's an open table in the back," one of the servers said, smiling at Monica and Chandler as they walked into the club's lounge area. There were tables and little love seats scattered about, everything cozy in the shadows of the room, which was larger than it looked from the outside. All eyes were on the four-piece band, some people swayed to the music in their seats while others glanced periodically at the couples on the crowded little dance floor.

Taking their cue from the server, they made their way to a back table in the corner. Chandler motioned for the same waiter to follow them.

"What can I get ya?" Chandler asked.

"Scotch," she said, automatically, then thought better of it. "Ah, no, wait…um, what are you having?"

"Just a brew," he said with a shrug.

"OK, that sounds fine," she said giving him a nod as she took her seat.

"You sure?"

"I'm sure," she said, smiling at him.

The waiter came and Chandler gave him the drink order. Monica surveyed the place. It had a relaxed, laid-back feel to it that she had to admit she loved. The woman on lead vocals was amazing - she seemed to be channeling the great soul singers of the decade with ease. Monica leaned back in the chair and crossed her legs, sweeping her long hair over one shoulder as Chandler took the seat next to her.

"So, you come here often, sailor?" she said, a tease in her voice. Chandler chuckled and shrugged.

"Once in a while," he said, nodding toward the vocalist. "She's great, isn't she?"

"Yeah, what's her name?"

"Roberta somebody," he said. "Flood, Flake, something like that. She's outta D.C."

"Ah," she acknowledged as the server came back to serve their beer. They both were quiet, listening to Roberta sing the last few strains of Etta James's "At Last" while they sipped their drinks. When the polite applause died down, the band announced they were going to take a short break, giving patrons a chance to mix and mingle, and talk.

"So, what position did you play?" Monica asked.

Chandler looked at her, confused for a moment, but gave her a little grin as he answered.

"Interested in my positions, are ya?" he said with a smirk, taking another sip of his beer. He could have sworn he saw her turn a little pink over the rim of his glass, even in the shadows of the corner table. He smiled into his beer.

Thrown for only a moment, she leaned in and ran her fingertips along his arm and threw him a seductive glance, causing Chandler's breath to hitch.

"In baseball, smart-ass," she said, a little grin of her own gracing her features.

"Oh," he said, remembering the white lie he told in their earlier conversation. "Yeah, um, catcher. Problem was I couldn't catch."

Monica smiled.

"Pretty sure that would be one of the requirements."

"Yeah," he said, taking another swig of his beer, trying to figure out a way to change the subject.

"How about you? Did you always dream of being a reporter?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "But when I was little I would always want to be in-the-know. I always wanted to know everyone's business. It used to drive Ross crazy. He could never keep anything from me. I would always snoop around and find out. Which, of course, meant he couldn't keep anything from my parents."

She smiled and he chuckled.

"I used to get in trouble for being a tattle-tale," she continued. "Of course Ross could do no wrong, so…"

"Parents playing favorites, huh?"

"Maybe I just perceived it that way," she shrugged. "He was the first-born and a boy and I just kind of…came along later."

Chandler nodded.

"Do you have brothers or sisters?" she asked.

"No," he said quickly. "You and Ross seem pretty close now, though."

"Yeah, we are," she said, a sad look passing over her face, twisting a ring around her finger on top of the little table where they were seated. She cleared her throat. "That's why I couldn't…I couldn't tell him the whole story about…Kip. He'd have killed him, if he found him…"

"Hey, no, I understand," Chandler said, nodding, not about to reveal what Ross had mentioned to him earlier in the day. "I know how to keep a secret."

She cocked her head to one side, studying him, thinking 'I bet you do,' but she kept the comment to herself. He winked at her.

"Thanks," she said softly, with a gentle smile, then she added with a sigh, "not that it matters much. He's leaving soon anyway…"

Her voice trailed off and she looked away at the empty stage. The musicians were just beginning to make their way back to their instruments. She picked up her beer glass and took a long drink. As she set it down again she felt Chandler's warm hand slide over hers. He grinned softly at her and looked into her eyes.

"Just let the blues lose you for a while, you dig?" he said quietly, gently squeezing her hand.

Monica nodded, her face softening and her fingers curling around his as the band started to play once again. She held his gaze long enough that he started to feel a little uncomfortable.

"What?" he whispered with a little smile that made her heart flip-flop.

"Nothing," she said softly, even as she felt her skin flush from her chest up her neck to her face. She was glad it was pretty dark in this corner of the club.

"I'm just getting lost in…the…blues," she replied, her eyes never leaving his.

The grin left his face as they sat there, a mild instrumental number playing in the background, blue searching blue. Chandler felt a shiver from head to toe. No woman had ever had this effect on him - certainly not from a simple look or a gentle touch. Her gentle touch, which was making his hand feel like it was crawling with hot coals he longed to stay buried in, was as unnerving as it was pleasant. But, damn, did it feel pleasant.

The tempo of the music changed a touch and Roberta took her place at the microphone, channeling Aretha Franklin as several couples took to the dance floor as the opening vocals began…

Looking out on the morning rain

I used to feel so uninspired

And when I knew I had to face another day

Lord, it made me feel so tired

Before the day I met you, life was so unkind

But you're the key to my peace of mind

'Cause you make me feel

You make me feel

You make me feel like a natural woman…

Chandler lifted her hand in his and raised his eyebrows.

She smiled softly and nodded toward the dance floor.

"It's pretty full."

He looked to his right and was about to turn his head to agree when she put her free hand over his and stood up. He looked up at her with a grin as she pulled his hand toward the corner wall behind their table.

"There's a little space here," she said, gesturing to the small space behind her. He slowly came to his feet and walked around the tiny table, putting one hand on the small of her back and pulling her to him until she was almost flush against him. He gave her his lopsided grin.

"So there is," he whispered as that one lock of hair that always seemed to fall against his forehead landed there once again. She brought the hand he was still holding to her waist, urging him to bring his hands together behind her as she moved to run both her hands through his hair, a simple gesture she'd wanted to do so badly for months, putting his rogue locks back into place with a grin. He smiled back at her, running his hands over the top of her hips, bringing her closer to him.

Oh, baby, what you done to me?

You make me feel so good inside

And I just wanna be close to you

You make me feel so alive…

He could feel her breath against his neck as she laid her head against his shoulder, his heart beating wildly in his chest. They were making rhythmic circles in the middle of their own little, corner dance floor, each of their bodies seeming to give off heat like a furnace. He started to breathe heavily as he dropped his head against hers and brushed his cheek a couple times gently against her hair. She lifted her face to him, her eyes half closed. She licked her lips, her gaze dropping to his. Gently, slowly, almost tentatively he bent down and she caught his bottom lip between both of hers, kissing him softly.

She released him after only a moment and titled her head back just a fraction before she felt one of his hands slide up her back and bury itself in her hair at the base of her skull, pulling her back to him, brushing his bottom lip against her mouth stronger this time. She kissed him harder and quickly his mouth was full on hers, their lips furiously seeking the other's taste.

Their breathing rapidly became labored as Chandler gently pushed her against the wall as she pulled on his shoulders, lips still locked in a blazing kiss.

Chandler moved his hand most hidden by the dark corner up under her thin sweater, making her shudder when his long fingers touched her warm skin. He cupped her breast and began to run his thumb back and forth against the fabric of her bra. She gasped against his lips, breaking their kiss, feeling him come alive against her through his jeans. She gasped again.

"Chandler…" she breathed.

"Yeah?" he replied in barely a whisper, trying to capture her lips again. She kissed him softly as she gently pushed his shoulders.

"Chandler…I…" she started, looking into his now confused face. She kissed him again, wanting to reassure him. "I want…this. I want this, but I…I…"

"What?" he asked, still confused but now running his hand slowly down the side of her face, the gentleness of his touch making her eyes well-up.

"Can we…take it slow?" she whispered. "I…I've rushed into…things before and I…I'm just…"

She was shaking, looking at him worriedly, her breathing still heavy. She loved to tease him, but she didn't want to be a tease. She just wanted to make sure…she wanted to keep from getting hurt, again. The way her body was responding to him she knew her heart would follow so quickly it would be unbelievable. She was so drawn to him that it took everything she had to hold back, but she needed to somehow attempt to keep her heart safe and her head clear.

Chandler tried to slow his breathing as he looked at her. In that moment she looked so vulnerable, just a touch like the woman he saw shivering at the phone booth that night, that he wasn't about to protest. He wasn't going to question her. So far this had been the best night of his entire life - and he wasn't going to ruin it by pushing too hard to make anything happen. He smiled at her, watching as she visibly relaxed. He nodded.

"Yeah," he said softly, nodding again and smiling in understanding. "Will you just…dance with me?"

The smile she gave him was so brilliant and so sincere it nearly took his breath away. She nodded and fell back against his chest. He moved her around slowly in small circles, closing his eyes and holding her tight against him.

"Hell of a kiss though," he whispered after a moment as they swayed to the next slow song. He felt her giggle in his arms.

"I know," she whispered, pulling him closer to her.

###

Monica closed the apartment door behind her with a little grin. A kiss on the forehead? Really? She'd have gone for more than that, but he'd given her a mischievous smile and a wink and walked into his apartment.

Oh, what a night…for the first time in a long time she felt excited butterflies filling her stomach. God, he was gorgeous and sweet and just a drop of too sexy to completely resist. She was so in trouble…

"Monica?"

She jumped and looked at the figure sitting on her couch in the dark apartment.

"Rachel?" she asked, walking over to turn on a lamp on the end table. Rachel shielded her eyes from the light and pulled an afghan closer to her. Monica sat down next to her.

"Oh honey, what's the matter?" Monica asked. It was obvious Rachel had been crying.

"Where were you?"

Monica couldn't hide her smile.

"Out…with Chandler."

"Oh," Rachel breathed, giving her a sad smile. "Oh, that is…far out. Had a neat time, I bet, huh?"

"Yeah," Monica said, dreamy look on her face.

"I'm…that's so…I'm happy for you, Monica," Rachel said, her voice cracking. She wiped her eyes.

"Rachel, what is it? What's wrong?" she said worriedly, trying to focus on her friend.

Rachel took a couple deep breaths.

"Ross asked me to marry him."

"What?" Monica said, both surprised and confused. "Oh Rach, Rach, that's wonderful…isn't it?"

"It should be," Rachel said, quietly.

"Then what? What is…"

"He wants to get married…this weekend…at city hall," she said, grabbing a tissue.

"This weekend?!" Monica said with a disbelieving laugh. "That's not enough time to…"

Then she stopped and stared at Rachel, the color draining from her face.

"May 9th," Rachel whispered. Monica gasped.

"That's less than a week…"

"I know," Rachel said, anger in her voice and tears streaming down her face. "This time…next week…he'll…he'll belong to the army for four years, if…he…makes it that long."

She said the last words in an agonized whisper. Monica's eyes filled with tears as she pulled her brokenhearted friend to her and let her cry into her shoulder - loud and silent tears ricocheting around the quiet living room.

"Love is a bitch," she eventually heard Rachel mumble brokenly between sobs.

Monica took a deep breath and held her tighter, blurry eyes staring unblinking across the room.

NOTE: I had a couple other songs in mind for this chapter and it was very hard to pick which one I wanted for this dance, but the soulful "(You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman" by Aretha Franklin, 1966, fit the bill the best. The other contenders are slated to show up later, though. ;) Thank you a million times over for your reviews…