Have you ever met a woman that inspires you to love? Until your every sense is filled with her? You inhale her. You taste her. You see your unborn children in her eyes and know that your heart has at last found a home. Your life begins with her, and without her it must surely end.

I rest my chin on my hand, watching Katie squish scrambled eggs between her fingers. She didn't seem too terribly impressed with them, making a face each time they hit her tongue, but she didn't immediately reject them, either, so I consider it a success.

Joey wolfed his down, barely coming up for air as he laughed at his cartoons, though he did manage to mumble a "thanks" in my general direction. Chandler and I attempted to be civilized and sat at the table, and feeding the baby became much more entertaining than feeding ourselves. She also made a great segue for the two of us as we came back from our latest tiff, trying and succeeding to recapture the dreamy atmosphere from earlier this morning.

At first, we fed her little forkfuls of food—half the time, she looked at us like we were nuts even though her mouth would fall open to accept it. Then we put some on her tray so that she could try to do it herself with even less success. She clumsily grabs handfuls and brings them toward her face, though most of it winds up anywhere but in her mouth.

"You have egg in your hair, Katie," I tell her as I try to brush it out.

"I swear to God, she's a tiny drunk person," Chandler says, scooping egg off the floor and depositing it into a napkin. "No one but a drunk would think to rub eggs all over their head."

"Maybe she's just highly creative, or her IQ is off the charts and she's doing something the rest of us mere mortals are decades from understanding."

He cuts his eyes to me. "Sure," he answers, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "That has to be it. It has nothing to do with her complete lack of fine motor skills."

"Of course not." I smile at Katie, who grins at me as a piece of egg falls out of her mouth. "You're a little genius, aren't you, sweetheart?"

Not surprisingly, she doesn't answer. She smacks her hand against her tray, pulverizing her food into nothing. I look up and see Chandler smiling, leaning in toward me over the high chair. I meet him for a lingering kiss, pressing my forehead to his before settling back in my chair.

"Love you," he says softly, making my heart flutter.

I sigh and lean back, crossing my legs. His eyes grow wide as the shirt rides up and exposes a lot of my thigh. "Why am I still so horny?" I whisper, making him nearly choke on his coffee.

He slouches down in his chair, stretching his leg out so that his foot can reach mine. "Because I'm just that good at it?"

"Mmmm," I answer, memories of last night coursing through me, igniting sparks all over my body. "That's probably it."

He snickers and I lift an eyebrow at him. "Sorry. Just never had anyone stroke my ego like that. If I'm any good at it, it's only because of you."

I lean toward him, winking. "I'd like to stroke something else." His face turns red and he squirms in his seat. I recline against the chair again with a sigh. "I have to go home soon."

"What? Why?" he asks, sounding worried.

"Because I'm so gross right now. I need to shower—"

"I have a shower here, babe."

"Plus, and I know this doesn't bother you, and it sure as hell doesn't seem to be bothering Joey, but I kind of don't have anything to wear." I look over at his roommate, who's nodding at me in approval. I just roll my eyes and shake my head.

"But...you'd come back, right? I mean, after you go home and shower and change, you'll come back over?"

I feel a grin spreading across my face. "Is that an invitation?"

"Hell yes, it is." He leans forward, his hand reaching for mine. I immediately slide my fingers through his. "And, maybe…I don't know, maybe you could bring some clothes over."

"You really want me to stay tonight?" I swear, if my smile gets any bigger, it's going to split my face in half.

"I want you to stay as often as possible."

I glance at Katie, who seems completely unconcerned with the adults around her, and slide out of my chair. A moment later I ease myself onto his lap, wiggling my hips against his for just a moment before I wrap my arms around his neck. "You may regret that offer."

"Not a chance."

"You sure? Because it's not so bad for one morning, but once you see this face staring back at you a few days in a row—"

He kisses me suddenly, cutting me off. "I'll just want to see it even more," he finally answers. "So, bring clothes. Pack a bag if you want. I want to fall asleep with you and wake up with you. Frequently."

"And do a few other things, I hope."

He's barely able to kiss me around his grin. "Yeah, that, too."

I shift on his lap again, feeling him pushing against me. "Jesus, are you always hard?" I breathe into his ear. He shudders, tightening his grip on me.

"Lately, yes. It's your fault."

I kiss him again, running my hands through his hair. One of his hands moves to my knee, sliding under the shirt. His fingers trace up my thigh, my side, stroking up my back, and I break away from him, gasping. "We're in the kitchen," I whisper.

"Want to go back to bed?"

I smile, kissing him again. "Tempting, but I really do need to shower."

"I have a shower here," he repeats.

"I know, but I don't have any—" He gives me a look—eyebrow raised, head tilted—and understanding dawns on me. "Oh," I answer with a giggle.

"You want to?"

I nod as I ask, "What about Katie?"

"No problem." He stands quickly, grabbing me to stop me from falling. "Hey, Joe; would you keep an eye on Katie for me for a few minutes?"

"Huh? Sure," he answers from his prone position on the couch—the same couch Chandler and I have been using as our own personal orgasm testing ground. I stifle a giggle at the thought as Chandler pulls Katie out of her high chair, giving her face and head a few quick wipes before plopping her on Joey's stomach. Katie, for her part, seems to have gotten over her clinginess from earlier. She tumbles forward against Joey's chest, grabbing a fistful of his t-shirt and shoving it in her mouth. Chandler grabs my hand and pulls me away as Joey blinks a few times, looking confused. "Hey. Why am I—"

"Thanks, man," Chandler calls as he pulls me into his bedroom, pushing the door shut behind us. He pushes me up against it as I laugh into his mouth, our lips fused together as his hands bunch the shirt up under my armpits. I hook my leg over his hip, desperately trying to climb him, but instead I wind up practically dry-humping him.

Not the worst of fates.

I give up, though, and instead push at his pajama pants, only getting them a little off his hips from this angle. "Get naked already," I growl. I have no need for foreplay at this point.

"Yes, ma'am," he says, pulling away from me. He grabs the back of his shirt and yanks it over his head, dropping it to the floor. His pants follow a moment later, leaving him wonderfully, gloriously naked.

And completely, probably painfully, aroused.

I smile at him and he groans. "Why do you look so hot in my shirt?"

"It's a girl thing," I answer with a shrug. I tug at the top couple of buttons, watching his eyes dilate as more skin is revealed to him. I take a couple of steps toward him, kissing him lightly before I duck away. I stand in the doorway of the bathroom and bite my lip. "I'm so very dirty," I tell him matter-of-factly. "Maybe you can help me."

He groans again as I slide into the bathroom, and I can't believe I actually said something like that. I've never said anything like that in my life, but…he seems to like it.

I reach into the tub and start adjusting the water when I feel his hands grazing up my thighs. He hooks his fingers in my panties and slides them slowly down my legs. I step out of them and turn around, my chest actually heaving as I gaze down at him. The corner of his mouth quirks up and I know what he's going to do a moment before he does it.

His head disappears under the hem of my shirt, his mouth making contact with me, and I yelp. My hips thrust forward and my back arches, nearly knocking me off balance. I grab at the walls, scrambling for purchase for a few moments before I push myself forward and grab onto his shoulder, digging my fingernails into his skin.

His hands slide up me, grabbing onto my breasts and I hear a ringing in my ears for a moment. I can't see anything he's doing, and that makes this all the more erotic.

I gasp, my hips undulating against his ministrations and I feel my stomach tighten. My eyes fly open as I clutch at him, trying to get his attention. "Chan—Chandler," I pant. "I'm going…I'm going to…ohhhhhhh, God…" His arms slide back down, wrapping under my ass to keep me in place, and his tongue does things to me that I'd never be able to explain. "I'm…I, I, ahhh, ahhh, AHHHH!" I shriek as my orgasm hits me like a ton of bricks, quick and powerful and staggering. I jerk against him, almost weeping as I moan.

His mouth is gone suddenly and I try to look down at him. He looks so incredibly smug that I'd smack him if he didn't have every right in the world to feel that way. He stands, pulling the shirt with him as he goes and tosses it toward the laundry basket. I wrap my arms around his shoulders as our lips meet, my legs far too unsteady to hold me up on my own. I smile into his mouth, euphoria washing over me. I want to feel ashamed that it happened that fast, that he can do this to me so quickly, but I just can't. The way I figure it, it means I get to have more orgasms, and that feels like a win all the way around.

He pulls away and steps into the shower, turning on the overhead spray before he holds out his hand to me. I step in tentatively behind him as my heart hammers. Sure—I've done the shower thing with a boyfriend before, and it's been kind of fun. Maybe not completely satisfactory for all parties involved, but still fun. But this is going to be different. There's absolutely no doubt about it in my mind.

We wrap around each other, kissing slowly. I push myself gently against his trapped erection and he moans into my mouth. I capture his bottom lip with my teeth and give it a little tug. His fingers dig into my ass as he pulls me closer. Carefully, he turns us so I'm directly under the spray. I lean my head back to let the water soak through my hair; he gently massages my scalp, sending shivers down my spine.

He untangles himself from me and bends down, grabbing a bottle off the edge of the tub. A few moments later he's massaging my scalp again, the shampoo surprisingly girly-smelling. I crack an eye open and lift my eyebrow, but he just shrugs. "Makes my hair soft." He takes some of it and runs it through his hair, grinning. I lean forward and let my forehead rest against his chest. One of my hands drifts between us and I start to stroke him gently.

Dear God, I really love the way he feels. The whole concept of erections fascinates me, and aside from the fact that he's horribly turned on while I'm doing it, Chandler doesn't seem to mind my exploring him. So far, it's mostly been sight unseen, but I've learned a lot that way.

Shudders run through his body and he twists away. I open my eyes again to see him breathing heavily, suds running down from his head. With shaking hands, he tilts my head back, letting the shampoo wash off before grabbing a washcloth and a bar of soap.

"Really?" I ask, feeling a chuckle work through me. "That's the best you can do? You don't have body wash or something?"

"I'm a guy, Monica, and a dad. Sometimes I'm lucky to remember to bathe myself at all."

He starts to run the cloth over me, and I'm surprised that it doesn't feel too bad. "Well, remind me to bring some of my stuff with me." I shiver pleasantly as he gently massages my breasts. "I'm assuming you don't mind if I bring shower gel?"

He presses a kiss to my jaw line. "Like I said before—whatever keeps you here." He gently moves the washcloth over my skin, rubbing in gentle circles as he massages the soreness out of my muscles. He drops down to his knees as he washes my legs, very intent on his mission.

My body shakes for a moment and I brace myself against the wall, my eyes falling shut. The look on his face is too much. It's so tender and full of love that I almost can't handle it.

He presses a kiss to my stomach then lets his lips start to trail downward. I feel myself start to quiver before I carefully push him away. I know what he was going to do, and I don't think I can handle it again right now.

He smiles and takes my hips, gently turning me around. He starts working the backs of my legs and I hear him say, "You have a cute ass, too. Did you know that?"

I peek at him over my shoulder, and he's looking at me reverently. I sigh as his hands move over me and I melt under his touch. His hands feel like magic. His mouth joins in, following anywhere his hands go, and I feel like I could fall apart. He starts in on my back, his fingers finding muscles that I didn't know were sore and kneading them carefully.

I turn suddenly and wrap myself around him, kissing him fervently. I take the washcloth from him and he moans in protest. "I don't think I can handle this," he warns.

I lean into his ear, flicking my tongue over the lobe. "I have faith in you." I wiggle out of his arms and grab the soap, making sure to get the washcloth good and sudsy. I scrub his chest, paying carefully attention to the marks I left digging my nails into him last night. I press gentle kisses to each one, feeling him shudder beneath my touch. I work my way lower, over his stomach where the muscles twitch in anticipation. I look up at him as I run the cloth over his erection, and his eyes roll back in his head. "Monica," he groans.

I lean forward and kiss his neck, his throat bobbing beneath my lips as he swallows heavily. "Another day?" I ask, feeling him nod. I don't know why I'm so eager to go down on him; it may be a talent of mine, that doesn't mean it's always my favorite part of the process. But he's just been making me feel so good, and I want to return the favor. I want to do for him what he does to me.

I turn him around and he ducks his head to avoid the spray. I trace my fingers over his back carefully, planting kisses on the marks I left there, too. "I'm sorry," I whisper, sliding my arms around his waist.

"For what?" he asks, and I'm surprised he could hear me.

"It looks like I did a number on you last night."

His hands cover mine, squeezing. "I don't care. Last night was perfect." He turns around suddenly, pulling me against him. "There's not a thing I would change about it, so whatever marks you've left back there, well, I'm good with it." He bends down to kiss me, one of his hands skimming down my side until he grabs under my knee and hooks it around his waist. I cling to him as I stand on tiptoe.

"I haven't washed your back yet," I breathe, our faces so close I can see the water droplets hanging off of his eyelashes. His eyes are dark with desire, his breathing is growing labored, and even though I know this position is precarious at best, I want him more right now than I ever have before.

His lips chase the water sluicing down my face but he lets go of my leg. I slide it down him slowly and he turns once more. I take a deep, shuddery breath and stoop down—I didn't even realize that I'd dropped the cloth. I soap it up again and start rubbing his legs. I feel the muscles in his calves twitch but he says nothing, patiently letting me clean him.

This is definitely better than any other shower stuff I've done before.

I move carefully over him, making sure to wipe down as much as possible. I drape the cloth over the edge of the tub and dig my fingers into his back, working out the sore muscles I find there. He moans in appreciation and I can feel his body relaxing beneath me.

Is this what love is? Honest, true, real love? I don't care about myself at the moment—all I want is for him to feel good. I've loved before—I know that much—but with Chandler, it feels like so much more. His happiness, Katie's happiness, matter so much more than my own, but just the fact that they exist makes me happy.

I think I've gone to a place way beyond love.

I stand up on tiptoe, holding onto his shoulders. "I love you," I whisper into his ear. It may not be enough, but it's all I've got. They're the only words that I have.

He turns back to me again, pushing my wet hair out of my face. "I love you, too," he answers, his smile dazzling. "Now how about sex in the shower?"

I burst out laughing, draping my arms over his shoulders. "So, you're just telling me what I want to hear to get into my pants?"

"You know it," he answers. "So…"

"Well, I guess that'd be all right. Since you love me and all."

He gives me a kiss and backs me up a couple of steps until I hit the tile wall. "I'll try not to get too crazy in here," he promises. "I don't want us to fall and break something. Ooh! Turn around!"

I press another kiss to his lips, then his throat and his chest before I turn, bracing my hands against the wall. I feel him pushing against me and I moan. I rock my hips back a little, creating some friction. His hands slide up me, cupping my breasts, and he thrusts against me slowly. He leans over me, his lips soft against my shoulder blades. He pushes my hair out of the way, brushing it over my shoulder, and skims his hand down my stomach. I push against him a little harder and I feel his erection slide between my legs. I gasp as I rock against him, my arms shaking as I hold myself up.

"God, you're sexy," I manage to say as I look at him over my shoulder. He really is, even more so with the water running in wild rivulets down his chest.

He shakes his head at me, smiling crookedly. "I don't hold a candle to you, babe." I reach a hand down between my thighs, putting my hand over him as he rubs against me. Even with the water running over us, I can feel the heat coming off of him in waves. I shift my hips a little, putting myself into position, and he freezes. "Shit!"

"What's wrong?" I ask, stilling my motions.

"God damn it. I don't have a condom."

I laugh a little, relieved that's the issue. "I don't think they really hold up in the shower, honey."

"Well, then—"

I stand up, pressing my back to his front. I start moving my hand over his erection again. He shudders as I whisper, "I'm still wearing my diaphragm." That's probably really wrong, too. After this session, I'm going to have to sanitize the hell out of that thing.

"I don't know that it's enough," he answers, though his hands start massaging my breasts again.

"I know we doubled up last night in deference to your super sperm," I say, and he chuckles, "but I've used this method for years and it hasn't failed me yet." I tilt my head to the side and look up at him, sliding a hand to the back of his head. "But whatever you want to do." I pull him down to my lips and his arms completely wrap around me.

"I want you so bad," he mumbles against my mouth. I remain quiet as we kiss, though my hips continue to move in small circles against him. I understand his reluctance, and even though I think I will actually die if we don't have sex soon, I can also wait the ten seconds it'll take us to run out to his bedroom and go for it there. I'm not terribly picky about the location.

He pulls away a fraction, his face so close that I nearly have to cross my eyes to see him properly. He gives me a little nod and I immediately resume my position, bracing my hands on the shower wall. He taps my thigh and I look back at him. "Put your legs together," he says, his voice low and raspy.

Confused, I do as he asks. He braces his legs on either side of mine, and I can feel him at my entrance. He grabs my hips, keeping me in place, and he pushes into me slowly.

"Ohhhhhhh!" That's intense. The friction is unbelievable. My body shakes and I push my arms against the wall, desperately trying to keep myself under control. Women may be capable of multiple orgasms, but that doesn't mean I want to explode every time he touches me.

He grabs my hips and thrusts, making every part of my body tingle.

God, maybe I do.

He pulls out of me slowly, the tip of him just barely teasing me and I bite my lip. I wiggle my hips a little in anticipation just before he slams back into me.

"Ohhhh. Oh, God! Ohhhhhh!" My head falls forward as he drives into me. He doesn't seem to be interested in wasting any more time. I really don't think I have much time to spare, anyway, not with the way I can feel an orgasm building all the way down in my toes.

I moan again, unable to contain myself. I press my face against my arm, biting the skin as he pushed into me with short, quick strokes. "Monica," he grunts. "God, yes." His hands leave my hips and slide up my body. I feel his fingers run down my arms until they twine with mine. Gently, he wraps our arms around me and eases us into a standing position.

"AHHHH! Chandlerrrrr!" His arms tighten and our hips thrust against each other in tiny circles. The feeling is unbelievable and insanely intense.

His lips attach to my neck, his teeth nipping at my skin, and I turn my head to press kisses to the side of his face. His hips move faster and I tighten my grip on his hands.

One of his arms starts to move, taking mine with it, sliding over my breasts and down my stomach. My body nearly sparkles with anticipation. I push my head back against his shoulder, gasping for air, thrusting back against him faster. Our joined hands slide down over my hips and I squirm. He kisses my shoulder and our fingers slide in between my thighs.

"Oh, God! Yes! Yes! Yes! Moreyesyesyes!" My eyes roll back in my head at the sensation. I wasn't going to need any assistance at all for this round, but I've very quickly learned that I'm never going to refuse Chandler's hands on my body.

Our fingers move in tandem. He breathes heavily in my ear. My entire body begins to vibrate.

"Come on, baby," he tells me as he gasps. "I've got you, come on."

I push my hips back against him, squeezing my thighs together as our hands work me into a frenzy. As much as I need the release, this build up is almost too good to lose.

I untangle the arm that's still wrapped around me and reach down, grabbing his hip. I pull at him, making him move faster. I know he's holding out for me. I squeeze my internal muscles around him and he yells out. His hips move faster, moving us until I'm pressed up against the wall. His fingers dance across me and his free hand slides to my stomach. He peels his back away from me, completely changing the angle.

"That's it," I gasp, feeling him move inside me. "Oh, yes, that's it. Right there." Our fingers rub over me furiously as he pounds me into the wall and I'm lost, actually screaming out as I fly apart. I feel him tense a few moments later, falling over the edge with me. Waves of ecstasy rush over me as I lose all sense of time and space.

His fingers start to ease off me and I push my hand against his, thrusting against him harder. "Don't stop," I demand. "Don't ohhhhhhh yeaaahhhh." A second orgasm hits me, one of the rare occasions where I'm lucky enough to have them coming from different points within me.

"Oh, my God," he moans, sounding completely in awe. I let out a sob as my fingers dig into his leg. My knees buckle for a moment, his arm around me the only thing keeping me upright. I start to feel dizzy. I almost feel like I'm going to pass out. I don't let him stop.

I push my ass back against him, thrusting almost violently. "Please more," I whimper. "More more more."

His head tilts down toward me, his lips chasing mine for a few moments before he captures them. We gasp into each other's mouths and I untangle my fingers from his. He rubs at me frantically and I grasp his forearm, nearly biting off his tongue.

He stops suddenly and I almost scream at him. I pull my lips from his but before I can protest, he says, "Hand cramp."

I start to laugh but he just switches hands, his left one now working at me. "OH!" I yell, the sensation almost completely different for some reason. "GOD!"

He doesn't say anything, but I can hear him breathing in my ear. I tilt my head a little, watching him, and he doesn't even notice me. His eyes are directed down my body, watching me buck and twitch and fall apart in his hands.

My knees buckle again, the feelings he's sending through me so intense that I honestly can't stand on my own right now. I never, ever want this to end.

Somewhere, way in the back of my mind, it occurs to me that it doesn't have to end. We could conceivably be together forever, which, in this moment, doesn't seem like a terrible fate. If it includes sex like this, I'm definitely in.

I gasp and look down my body, too. "Oh, my GOD," I moan, my voice echoing around the room. Seeing him do that to me is too much; I feel the world around me explode. Fireworks actually go off in my head. I jerk against him violently, orgasming so hard that it borders on painful.

I feel his legs bend and he manages to get us onto our knees in the tub. My legs finally fall open, bracketing his as I thrust against him, yelling so loudly that I have to be hurting his eardrums. My body collapses in on itself as I tremble and jerk, wave after wave rushing through me. His fingers rub against me furiously for a few more seconds before he stops completely and I finally go limp, almost falling off his lap. I shudder for a few moments before I start sobbing, endorphins and emotions running rampant through my body.

His arms wrap around me and he pulls me gently against his chest, his fingers stroking against me soothingly. "It's all right," he whispers. "Shhhh. It's all right. I've got you."

My head falls forward as I weep, feeling utterly ridiculous for such a display. I can't control it, though. Aftershocks ripple through me and I moan, burying my face in my hands. "Sorry," I manage to whimper.

He kisses the back of my neck, moving on to my shoulder. "I love you," he whispers.

Of course, that makes me cry even harder.

A few moments later I feel the washcloth on me again, gentle and delicate as he cleans me up, and I can't help but feel immensely touched. "Why…what…" I can't even form a proper question.

"You said it yourself," he tells me softly. "Sex is messy. The absolute least I can do right now is clean up after myself."

I search my mind, but I don't know that any guy before him has ever done that for me. It doesn't seem like it should be a big deal, and maybe once I recover it won't be, but right now, it feels like just about the sweetest thing anyone has ever done.

I force myself to sit up, pressing my back to his chest as I wrap an arm around his neck to hold myself steady. "I love you," I tell him as I press my lips to his, kissing him deeply.

He manages to turn the water off a moment later and we both shiver, though neither of us makes a move to get up. He stretches around me after a few seconds, breaking the kiss, to grab a towel off the rack just outside of the tub. He drapes it over me and squeezes the water out of my hair before gently patting me dry. I lean back and kiss him again, both of us sighing.

"Think you can stand?" he whispers.

"Think you can?" I counter. My legs are still shaking, though not as violently as a few minutes ago, but I can feel him trembling, too. "We're both a mess."

"I can't even begin to express to you how worth it it is." He kisses my neck. "You think it'll always be like this?"

"Oh, God, I hope not." He makes an offended noise and I chuckle. "I wouldn't be able to live through it."

He laughs, pressing a kiss to my temple. "You have a point." He puts his hands on my hips and I force myself to stand, holding onto the wall for support. I feel him stand behind me, his entire body brushing against mine and sending tiny sparks coursing through me.

I turn and wrap an arm around him, my hand going up to sweep aside his wet hair. I get a good look at him and notice that his eyes look…different. Even though I can't manage to really stop crying, I cock my head to the side, stroking his face tenderly. "You all right?"

He smiles shakily, his arms wrapping around me, and he shrugs. "I don't know," he whispers. "This is all so…"

"Intense?" I finish for him, and he nods slightly.

"Yeah, intense, but not in a bad way, you know?"

"I know."

He sighs, pressing his forehead against mine for a moment. "Can I say something absurdly romantic without any judgment?"

"Of course you can. You can say anything to me."

"For the first time ever, I think I feel…whole."

Tears fill my eyes again and I nod. "I know."

"I didn't expect it to feel this way. I never felt like something was missing from me until I met you. I love you so much. Hell, I probably loved you all along."

My heart shatters into a million happy little pieces as a sob bubbles out of me. His fingers come up and tenderly wipe my cheeks. "You're right," I whisper. "You're absolutely right."

"I am?"

"That was absurdly romantic."

He throws his head back and laughs before he very carefully steps out of the tub, holding his hand out to me. After I join him on the bathmat, I grab another towel and wrap it around his waist. He kisses my forehead and pulls his bathrobe off the back of the door, enveloping my shivering body. "What do you say we go check on the kid?"

"Good idea. We should probably check on Katie, too."

He laughs again, pulling me into his arms. "She's usually the one to keep Joey in line, honestly."

"Do you think she's okay? I mean—"

"Honey, I'd be willing to bet you anything that Joey's more traumatized right now than she possibly could be. I'd say even more so because I don't usually illicit noises like that from a woman."

"This is a whole new ball game, isn't it?"

"Damn straight, it is."

"But…you're so good at sex."

"According to you. I suppose that's all that matters, when it comes down to it. At any rate, they're both fine. If Joey doesn't like it, well, tough shit. He can deal. Besides, he probably got an earful last night."

"He was here?" I ask, suddenly mortified. "Are you sure?"

"Well, if all the obscene hand gestures and winks he gave me this morning are any indication, I'd say he has a pretty good idea of what we were doing. I'm sure as soon as you leave to go get some clothes and stuff, he'll grill me for all sorts of details."

I cringe, looking away. "Just…don't tell him anything too graphic, okay?"

"Mon, I'm not telling him anything. It's not his business. What we did together—what we do together—is ours. It'll probably drive him nuts, but I don't care."

With a sigh, I wrap my arms around his waist and hug him tightly. "I love you so much."

He hugs me back, his arms just as tight, and rests his head on top of mine. "How'd I get so lucky?" he asks softly. "I love you, too."

I will never get tired of those words.

*A/N…I know I dragged this "day" on forever, but I felt like it had to be told this way. Or something like that. There will be a few more instances where a single day/event is broken down into multiple chapters, just so you know, so if you like it this way, awesome. And if you don't like it this way…well, sorry.

Anyway, I need to say something that's been eating at me, and I apologize in advance because this will probably be long, but I need to get it off my chest. I hate to break it to you, but there's a huge bully in our midst. She's definitely a wolf in sheep's clothing, and hopefully, none of you have dealt with her enough to really have felt her wrath. She's a horrible, mean person who hands out "advice" and "praise" as if she's a teacher looking after naughty students, telling people how and when to write stories as if she's the fanfic god. She actually blamed me when she stopped writing a year ago because I was posting "too much." She told me that my writing was repetitive and that she was "over" my stuff, then had the BALLS to ask who was in my head when I mentioned those comments some time back (sadly, it took a while for me to realize that she was the one I was hearing). She pretends to be your friend unless you happen to call her on her bullshit, then she's "done." She can dish it out, but she sure as hell can't take it in. She's stupidly insecure (which is fine), but wants everyone to believe she's some sort of domestic goddess—the effing stay-at-home-mom to kids who are well into being full-time students because she's too scared to actually go back to work. So insecure about not getting feedback that—poof!—here she is again, and being douche about it, too.

Guys, I know I'm insecure. I know you know I'm insecure. I don't think I've ever made any secret about that, though I like to think that I've gotten better about keeping it to myself as of late. Hell, if I wasn't insecure, I could very easily turn off the reviews on this site and just post my little heart out. But you know what? I fucking own that shit. I know this about myself, and while I'm always working on it, it's probably never going away. But I don't blame other people for it—I'll admit I've probably directed it at you guys once or twice and for that I'm truly sorry (there's been more going on in my personal life than I can begin to explain, and it's not always expressed in the best of ways)—but I don't go to someone who is my "competition" and tell her I'm going to stop writing because she's writing too much. She's just afraid of not being the best, and if she couldn't be the "best," she knew that she could sneak in mean, horrible comments to me from time to time under the guise of advice and friendship. God, this is someone who hadn't posted anything in weeks. WEEKS. Because she can't walk and chew gum at the same time, apparently. Miss I'm-So-Busy-With-Real-Life. Get over yourself. We all have real lives. We all have other stuff to deal with. You're not special. Hell, I have a real, full, busy life that has kept me out of town and away from my computer almost every weekend since August and have somehow managed to write two 300-plus page novels in a year. You make time for the things you NEED to do, for the things that eat at you until you can get them out. Being able to take on more than one thing at a time is called—wait for it—being a grownup! Then the moment I started mentioning that I was going to start a new story, she jumps in, telling me she was just about to post her own story. THEN, when she asked me later if I was irritated with her, and I was HONEST and told her why, she said that she figured it was something like that, then told me that she hadn't done anything shady (if this seems vague, don't worry. I've actually managed to work this situation into this story, so it'll come up eventually) and accused me of taking my insecurities out on her. I told her I didn't want to fight with her, that I'd just been actually busy & couldn't stroke her ego at that moment in time, she said she was done with me. Fine, because she's a horrible person, but she's also a giant hypocrite. I'm sure she has no recollection of doing THE SAME EXACT THING TO ME last December, and I was cool about it. But if I want to do the same thing, I'm not "supporting her." Grow the fuck up, man. Age has nothing to do with being a grownup, and she's prime evidence of that. She's a big fish in a little pond, and that's all she'll ever be because it takes a lot of guts to be a small fish in a big pond. The only way she can move up is by bringing other people down, and I truly hope that the bulk of you have kept your dealings with her cordial but not personal. It's not worth it.

Sorry to have unleashed this on you guys, but I've been holding onto this for about five months now and it needed to be said. It's great that a lot of the people in this community are tight and friends in real life—it's amazing that a show that's been off the air for eleven years has this ability. But not everyone here is your friend. Not everyone is a good person. I hope like hell your experiences with her are better than mine because I don't wish this upon anyone.

Here's the thing; I know I'm not an innocent victim. There have been situations in my life when I've been bullied by people for nothing more than my accent and the grades I got in school, or when people I don't even know start rumors about me, rumors that followed me all the way until I graduated high school—I was innocent in those situations. I'm sure I've been an asshole at times. Hell, I don't mind if someone's an asshole to me, too—you bicker, you get over it. But for someone to be outright mean, to try to beat you down so that she can build herself up, then turn around and tell me that I'm the one taking my insecurities out on her…no. Not anymore. I sat through a three hour meeting with my league the other day, and we spent a good amount of time talking about bullying and if it's actually an issue within our specific group, then I watched my friend stand up, choke back tears, and tell all of us that it IS a problem because it's happened to her, and that the person who'd been doing the bullying was sitting in the room at that moment. She told us what happened, how she nearly hadn't come back after our winter break, and that she'd been keeping it in for almost a year. She had the courage to stand up in front of a group of people and lay herself bare, and she's given me the courage to do this. If someone's bullying you and you don't say something, you're only hurting yourself. Your bully is getting what they want, but inside, you're dying. This isn't the same as standing up in front of a roomful of people, but it's the only format that I have. I'm also taking a page out of the "classy" section of my friend's book and I'm not mentioning any names. We all guessed who her bully is, as I'm sure some of you can probably guess, too, but she never named names. However, if any of you want to know the full story, I'll be happy to share it with you. Remember, bullying isn't just someone physically pushing you around—it's someone who beats you up emotionally, too. Someone who makes you feel about an inch tall so they can feel bigger. These people are assholes. They have ZERO self-esteem and have somehow gotten it in their heads that no one else should have any, either. You guys have been wonderful to me—truly. The support you've shown me should have my self-confidence through the roof, but I've been letting people like her hold me back. Well, not anymore, I hope. I'm going to try to believe you guys when you tell me that I'm good at this, and not listen to that one goddamn voice that tells me that I'm repetitive. Because she's just one person. One tiny, sad, pathetic person who can't admit to the people here that she just needs attention, and was probably quite honestly jealous that I could admit it. Be honest about who you are—don't make excuses about why you're not writing anymore, then prove yourself to be a liar. I hope I'm always writing. I don't know if I'll always write Friends fic—I can't predict the future—but I want to keep writing stories until I can't anymore. If I disappear for a time, it's really only because I'm drawing a blank, not because I don't want to, and certainly not because I'm hiding behind a new job or my kids or whatever excuse I can dream up so that I don't have to admit that I need the feedback as much as the next person. I'm only human. I do need those things. You guys are good for it, so I thank you for that. If I'm quiet on Twitter…well, it's honestly because of this one person. I've been burned, and I don't want to go through it again. It's self-preservation. You all seem to be super-sweet people, with real lives and fears and concerns, and not some mindless automaton that constantly feels the need to tell people who aren't asking how perfect her life is. Generally, if you have to tell people something like that as often as she does, it usually means your life is anything but. So pity this woman. Feel bad for her because she's locked in her own little bubble of denial and self-loathing. I think she's probably worse at being a friend than I ever could be. I don't think she even knows how.

I love you guys, and if you've gotten this far, thank you.