Thanks for the reviews. Not a single bad one so far *whew* I hope you're all enjoying this. I'm loving writing this. This story is very personal. Rebellious Monica is very similar to myself the past couple years. Chandler is very similar to the role my boyfriend has played in my life. He pulled me out of a depression that had lasted nearly four years with his love and support. I love you, Teddy Bear. Anyway, I have a contest: anyone that can list three songs from which I've taken lyrics from (in the prose or in the titles of the chapters) will get an advance on the coming chapters. Good luck! When you have it figured out, drop me a line at purple_tights75@hotmail.com. On with the next chapter! Enjoy!


17

Smiling, Monica packed her bag. It had nearly a month since her last drink, the night of the accident. It was strange how dramatic the difference in herself was. She was happy. She couldn't remember the last time she was this happy, or even happy, period. She no longer told people to fuck off every time he or she asked how she was. She was smiling and it was starting to feel natural. That morning Chandler had woken next to her and murmured how beautiful she was, and she had grinned and giggled. Who did she have to credit for the reversal of her funk? Chandler. God, she loved him more everyday. The man was perfect, that was all there was to it. Funny, smart, gorgeous, great in bed, sweet, wonderful...

She zipped her bag and hurried outside. Just as she was stowing it in the back of the van, she felt an arm weave around her waist and pull her around the corner. Giggling, she fell happily into Chandler's awaiting arms.
Hello there, beautiful. He grinned devilishly as she bent forward to kiss him as he pulled his face away. You gotta earn it first.
Impishly she licked her lips then bent and pressed soft kisses along his jaw and neck. He gasped as she ran the tip of her tongue along the shell of his ear. Growling, he captured her lips in a lusty kiss.
Monica and Chandler quickly broke apart at the sound of Ross clearing his throat noisily. The tour bus will be leaving in two minutes.

18

God, Monica, I want you so bad. Chandler frantically kissed her neck and rubbed her breasts.
I can tell, she said dryly, his obvious need throbbing against her leg. Tell me, she whispered, reaching beneath the sheets to peel off her panties.
I love you, Monica. Now and forever. His expression had softened genuine emotion, then stiffened as he moved inside of her, moaning softly.

They lay in the afterglow. Finally, Monica sat up and lit a cigarette. Her smoke wafted toward the ceiling in the faint light.
Hey Mon? he said, tracing one fingertip over a breast. She gasped softly at the touch then answered.

Think you can amuse yourself for the day tomorrow? Ross and I are driving down to Port Hope for the day then playing that evening. We'd just a get a motel for all of us there, but there was no vacancies. You don't mind, do you?
'Course not.

Somehow she'd found a bar. She hadn't even been looking for one when suddenly she found herself, perched on a stool, a smoldering cigarette perched between two fingers and the bartender asking her what it would to be.

Two Sex on the Beach! That's what ya drink, eh Mon? I never I thought I'd see you here. Oh and I'm paying, no question.
Stunned, she turned toward the voice. Ugh, hi Jay...