Conflicted

Rachel was having a wonderful dream.

She was watching the film "While You Were Sleeping" all alone in her and Monica's livingroom. All of their furniture was exactly where it belonged, surrounded by lush purple walls. It was as if they had never been evicted. Never had to spend one night in that hole of an apartment across the hall. It was warm, and comforting, and it was her home.

As the film continued to play, the room grew darker and the screen flickered as color and light danced about her face. Suddenly, Bill Pullman turned and looked at her from inside the television, which caught her off-guard because she did not remember this part of the movie.

"Rachel."

Rachel looked around the room, unconvinced he was actually speaking to her from the TV. Once it became clear to her that he was indeed, seeing her and addressing her by name, she carefully leaned forward and spoke with hopeful apprehension back at the two-dimensional movie star. "Yes…uh…Bill?"

"I know you have seen this movie a half-dozen times, and that in about forty minutes I am supposed to fall in love with Sandra Bullock, but I can't stop thinking about you. Seeing you there in your Frankie Says Relax t-shirt and your sweatpants, and how the polish on your nails from your last manicure is starting to chip away, I just can't control myself. It has taken every bit of will power I have not to talk to you until now. You're irresistible!"

Rachel nodded slowly as she began to creep closer to the television. "That makes total sense."

Bill Pullman's face now took over the entire screen as he stared longingly at her. "Rachel, there's only one thing we must do. Come here, to the screen. Kiss me and I will be free and we can run away together to Paris. Think about it. Me and you in the fashion capitol of the world."

Rachel came closer, her eyes as big as saucers. "Wow. You care about fashion?"

"I care about what you care about because I am Hollywood's manufactured image of the perfect man. An intoxicating combination of masculine, suburban ruggedness and feminine sensitivity."

"That my favorite kind of combination."

"You just have to kiss me, Rachel. Kiss me and we can be together."

Rachel inched closer. She could feel the static electricity from the television screen tickle the nerve endings across her face. "Oh, Bill, will you do that speech from Independence Day?"

"Sure." Bill Pullman then looked off and began to sing. "Morning's here."

Rachel shot back, perplexed at his behavior. "What?"

Bill began to sway as he belted out again, "The morning is here!" Near incomprehensible words sung to the tune of "Feels So Good" by Chuck Mangione.

Rachel's head popped up from the pillow. Groggy and awakened as she heard what she could only describe as a bizarre harmonizing chorus coming from somewhere in the apartment. She tilted her head, wild bed hair and all, and leaned an ear towards the wall between her room and Joey's.

"Morning's here! The morning is here!"

Rachel growled as her eyes went wide with anger. "What the hell is going on!"

She threw the blanket back and leapt out of bed, a physical embodiment of rage and exhaustion. She shoved open the bedroom door and stormed towards Joey's room. She then darted her eyes quickly at Chandler who nervously looked at her as he leaned back defensively on the pullout couch.

Rachel gestured incredulously at Joey's door. "What the hell is that!"

Chandler appeared relieved and let a shy smile stretch his lips. "Oh, that's the singing guy."

Rachel fumed and snarled. Chandler could swear he saw steam blowing through her nostrils.

"You say that like it's supposed to make sense now." She then turned back to face Joey's door. "I'm going to kill him."

"Wow, you really are not a morning person."

Rachel arched an angry eyebrow as she shot a healthy dose of stink-eye in Chandler's direction. "Do you want to be next?"

Chandler lifted his hands and gestured his surrender as he shook his head.

Rachel stopped herself before charging into Joey's room and looked around the apartment. "Where's Monica?"

"Uh, well, uh…." Chandler's voice trailed off. He found that he was unable to form any words that might be useful to him and opted to gesticulate with the one hand he had lifted out from under the blanket.

Rachel eyed him with impatience and then shook her head. "Never mind."

She then swung Joey's door open and instinctively leapt back as the duck, startled by her abrupt entrance, spread its wings wide and began to quack loudly, almost as if it were trying to ward her off.

Rachel was able to shake off her initial shock, and then glared at the duck, unimpressed by its territorial instincts. She waved it off as she stormed past it. "Shut up quacky! This is between me and Simon and Garfunkel in there."

Chandler watched as Rachel disappeared into the darkness and winced at the shouting and angry words flying around. "Wow. She kisses her mother with that mouth?"

Rachel stormed back out and then looked back into Joey's room behind her shoulder. "And I swear if that other one starts squawking before seven, you are going to come home to a homemade bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken!"

On her way back to her bedroom, she stopped once more and eyeballed Chandler. "Did you figure out where Monica is?"

"I, uh, I think she's in the bathroom. She had the beef tips last night."

Rachel leaned over to look at the closed bathroom door and then back at Chandler. She nodded, apparently finding his excuse believable enough, and returned to her bedroom.

Monica then shot up from under the covers. "Do you think she knew I was here?"

Chandler leaned his ear towards his old bedroom door and shook his head. "I think we're in the clear."

Monica sat up and pulled the covers tighter around her chest, as if she had just realized that she was completely naked. "Uh, well…"

Chandler, sensing tension, decided to puncture its bubble with a joke before it became too large and engulfed them both in a tense, embarrassed exchange. "I've never done that with you before."

Monica let out a nervous giggle and then looked around the apartment. "Yeah. Look, about that…I just, well, I was feeling a little low. No job, no money, no apartment. I guess I needed a win. I just wanted to feel good. I don't want you to think I go around jumping peoples' bones all the time."

Chandler pulled the sheet up to his neck in mock indignation. "You mean you used me?"

"What? No. I mean, sort of. I just don't want you to think this was some whole big thing about us or something. I don't want it to mess with our friendship."

Chandler nodded. "No. I get it. Sometimes I can forget how irresistible I can be."

Monica smirked. "Really?"

Chandler chuckled lightly. "Yes. If anything, it was probably my fault. How could you make rational decisions with these bulging biceps in your face?" He started to frame his arms with his hands, as if miming that he was displaying large muscles.

Monica reached over to squeeze his arm. "These biceps?"

"Well, they're not flexed right now."

Monica laughed again. Suddenly, as quick as it came, the tension was gone. She was no longer in bed next to a man she had slept with wondering what exactly that meant on a grand scale. The familiar whirring of her over-active mind in situations like this had gone quiet. She was not worried about mixed signals, uncomfortable silences or awkward conversations. She was too busy falling back into old habits and making jokes with her friend.

Chandler turned over and smiled at her. "Look, we shouldn't make this more complicated that it was. Right? I mean, it was a one-time thing. A little fun. Just a way to release some tension."

Monica nodded, but then slowly stopped as she looked back at him in earnest. "Well, no…"

"Are you saying that wasn't fun? Because I am pretty sure you at least faked having fun."

Monica laughed. "No, it was a lot of fun. Probably, the most fun I've had in a long time."

Chandler nodded smugly as he deciphered her coded speech as confirmation that he was indeed skilled as a lover.

Monica shook her head, more amused than insulted by his behavior. She then looked up at him with a sheepish grin. "I just meant that, well, does it have to be a one-time thing?"

Chandler shot a confused look back at her. "Huh?"

Monica sat up, and grabbed his arm gently. "Well, I just mean, as long as we're going to be living together," she then gestured back-and-forth from his body to hers, "and all of that stuff worked out really, really well, it would be a shame to waste it."

Chandler nodded. "I guess we are too good at sex to ignore it."

Monica let loose with a salacious smile as she started to glide her finger up his arm. "You might say we owe it to sex to keep doing it."

Chandler let out a sigh of relief. "Thanks God."

Monica stared back at him, confused by his outburst. "What?"

"Well, you're really hot. So, I want to do this again. You know, maybe take a better look this time."

Chandler started to lift the sheet and Monica tugged it back and chuckled. She then leaned her body against his. "Me too." She let her fingers dance across his chest. "Just, you know, while we are in this situation. We really should take advantage of it."

"Right. It would be stupid not to. Especially since you're probably going to need a few more, uh, pick-me-ups."

"Right. And once I get a job and move out…"

"No more doing it, but while you live here, we keep doing it."

"Right."

The two of them looked at each other for a moment. Each one trying to gauge the sincerity of their convictions. Wondering if either one of them would have a conflict of conscious at embarking on some brief, torrid affair right under the noses of two of their closest friends. But, as they studied each other, it appeared they were of the same mind. Neither on of them flinched, or protested, or suddenly had second thoughts.

Chandler took that as a cue and rolled over. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close to him. "Well, you know, it is still early, we probably have fifteen or so minutes before Rachel's alarm goes off."

Monica smiled, suddenly intensely aroused at the idea of a clandestine quickie. Imagining them racing against the clock in hopes not to be discovered only raised her sexual arousal to new heights. She leaned in to kiss him, but then stopped herself.

"What about Joey?"

Chandler put his finger to his lips to signal for Monica to be quiet. He then craned his neck towards Joey's room. Straining to hear even the slightest and most imperceptible of noises. Monica joined him and the two of them listened in silence until they heard the rhythmic snores that played from Joey's room and through the door.

"Okay." Monica nodded, satisfied that Joey was completely incapacitated by sleep for at least the next few hours.

Chandler mimicked her quiet "okay" and then pulled her in for a kiss.

He was no fool, and even though he understood how dangerous it would be to attempt a superfluous sexual relationship with such a close friend, or how volatile that endeavor could become, he did not care. He wanted this.

Sex had never been easy to separate from emotion for him, and as he felt Monica's hands travel down his chest, he wondered if perhaps he should be buried in red flags right now just for simply considering doing this with her. But Chandler also knew exactly how rare opportunities to sleep with a beautiful woman like Monica happened in his life. He could count on one hand how many women he had been with in the last year and still have fingers left over to play "Hot Cross Buns" on the clarinet.

As he felt her tongue push past his lips and her bare breast fall on top of him and press against his chest, he knew all of those superficial justifications were a canard. A defense mechanism for how he was really feeling in this moment.

Before last night, he had not thought of Monica as someone he would ever sleep with. Sure, he may have fantasized about her from time-to-time, but it never went beyond that. There was no lusting after her for years. He would never have even imagined attempting something like this. But then she initiated it. And in doing so, she was bringing their platonic relationship to a very intimate and physical level.

And he liked it.

He could say that it was because she was hot, or because the sex was so great, or because the last time he had actual sexual intercourse was with Janice almost a year ago. But all of those reasons were secondary to why he really wanted to keep this going.

With Monica, kissing her and sleeping with her did not feel weird. And he was not awkward, or nervous around her last night like he usually can be the first time he slept with a woman. A fumbling man intimidated by a woman's bra.

Instead, being with her, like this, felt right.

And it felt like they should have been doing this the whole time.