A/N: Hey! Yen here. So you've decided to read our fic. We thank you :) We are, in case you haven't realized, JenniGellerBing (who will hereafter be referred to as Yen) and Becca (or will hereafter be referred to as... well, Becca.) Oh, and if you don't know us personally, go read our bio. It's a real kick. In fact, it'll rock your socks like Chandler in a box!!!!

Back to the fic. It should probably be rated R, but since hopefully none of yall have virginal eyes, it won't matter much. If anyone is outraged, tell us and we'll change it. I'm probably the youngest person here, so if I can write it, can't yall read it?

ATTENTION: Becca would like to say that she is *still* on hiatus, because she is in NYC. However, we will be posting this regularly (hopefully) as long as you continue to love us! :)

Disclaimer: We don't own the characters. We do, however, own the ENTIRE Chandler In a Box collection (coming to a toy store near you!)

The music was blaring loudly. She stood near the back, next to a cluster of small tables. Her eyes swept over the crowd, onto the dance floor. People moving and gyrating all over one another, their bodies pressed together. Strangers rubbing against each other, their most intimate parts touching. But it was all fun and games for them. They danced, they grooved, and at the end of the song, at the end of the night, it was over. Not for her.

A man clad in a dark suit strolled over to her and stood next to her. "Hello," he murmured softly. His voice was low and scratchy, and his breath stunk of alcohol and cigar smoke. She tried not to gag.

"Hello to you too," she said seductively. "What can I do for you tonight?" That was her line, his clue. Time to show her the money.

He was a pro. He pulled several twenties out of his pocket and slipped half of them into her hand. She quickly counted them.

"It's 600 for the whole night," she said. "There's only one hundred here." The deal these days was that you paid half before and half after - kind of a guarantee for both sides. And if she didn't show - well, he would find her.

"I know," he said. "I only need two hours."

"One hundred twenty more and you've got a deal," she replied. He sighed and took out his wallet again, handing her three more twenties. She thought she should charge more - this guy was disgusting, he was filthy, not the kind of upper-class, married man who usually came for her - but as she'd thought before, he was a pro. If she didn't come, there were plenty of 16 year old girls on street corners who would do it. And she needed the money.

"I like a girl who knows what she wants," he said. "7400 West 10th, apartment 4C. I'll see you at 10:00." The man sauntered away, up to a group of similarly vile men.

Rachel Greene pivoted on her heel and left the sleazy night club. She had a job for tonight. That's all she'd come for.

She climbed off the panting, sweaty man and quickly grabbed her short blue skirt. She hustled around the bedroom, searching for her thong and garters, which he'd ripped off and thrown in his passion. She did not speak or look at the man still recovering on the bed. She felt ill; she wanted to get out of the dank, smoky, gross apartment more than anything. But she'd have no where to go, really - just home, to tiny, old one-room apartment in the Bronx that she shared with another girl.

"Come over here for a little more, sugar," he said heavily, reaching out and touching her arm as she walked by. She pulled away in disgust. She'd had enough of those hands touching her tonight.

"You paid for one," she said airily.

"Yeah, well, I got something better than money," he said, reaching under the bed and pulling out a bag of green, crushed leaves.

Rachel was interested, and he could see it on her face. "It good?"

"The best," he promised. "No bullshit."

"Give it here." He tossed the bag to her, and she took some out and smelled it. Then she put a bit on her tongue. It was bitter, but she could tell it would be good. She glanced at him, and then she got back on the bed.

Ten minutes later, she washed out her mouth in the sink, afraid she might throw up. He'd tasted awful. But the weed - the weed was worth it. She found the guy passed out on his bed and quickly searched for his pants. Upon finding them she reached inside, pulled out his wallet, and grabbed the three twenties inside of it. She deserved a bonus. Then, with the bag and the money in her pocket, she hurried out of the building and began the long walk to her meeting place.

"Hey - uh, Rachel?"

Rachel spun around. The voice calling her was young and feminine and sounded slightly afraid.

"Yeah?" she said warily.

"Um - um, hi."

The girl stepped out of the darkness. She was skinny as a rail, wearing a white dress and a heavy coat that Rachel eyed enviously. She had on too much make-up, but she was pale and tired-looking. Her brown hair was raggedy and limp. She couldn't have been older than 20, Rachel's age, and she was shivering. Rachel gasped.

"Monica?"

"Thank God you recognize me," Monica said.

"Of course I recognize you - wait, what are you doing here? How did you know I was here?" Rachel wrapped her arms around herself protectively, suddenly ashamed that her old best friend might know what she did for a living.

"I need some help," Monica said, stepping closer. "I need money badly and I... I know what you do."

"You don't want to get into this. This is serious, this is miserable... why do you need money? What about NYU and being a chef? What about your parents?" When Monica didn't answer, Rachel said, "Oh, honey, did they kick you out?"

"Yeah," Monica mumbled. "Yeah, they kicked me out. So do you think you could... get me a job?"

Rachel studied her friend. "I don't want to, Mon. I don't want you to live like me. It's not fun. If you just left... I can't go back, my parents won't even take my calls... if you can go back to your parents... go. "

"I can't. Rachel, please," Monica begged.

"Okay. If you're sure... there's a guy...."

A tall blonde girl wearing a flowery green skirt and a glimmery top with black boots appeared in Rachel's vision. "Hey, Pheebs, how'd you do tonight?"

"Oh, great," Pheebs said, actually smiling. "I got some old businessman, obviously from out of town. Took me to this nice hotel on the Upper east side. Didn't know how to act about it, it was hysterical. He didn't know the rules either, so I overcharged a tad. Got his watch off the floor too." She grinned evilly. "I can probably get a hundred or so for it. How 'bout you?"

"I got the biggest ass this side of Staten Island," Rachel complained. "His apartment smelled like fucking cigarettes and he stank like shit. But - " she raised her eyebrows. "I got this." She pulled out the bag, and Phoebe grabbed it and opened it.

"This is good shit!" she exclaimed. "What'd you do for it?"

"You don't wanna know," Rachel said. "Now roll it fast, I need some."

"You got it, babe," Phoebe said. "Hey, Rach, who the hell is that?"

"Oh! This is Monica. She's my friend from high school. She's gonna see Joey."

"Ah," Phoebe said knowingly. "You takin' her?"

"I'll drop her off in front. I ain't going up there so he can take my bonus off me."

"Um, what do I have to do? To, ya know, work with him?" Monica asked.

"Well, you have to fuck him," Rachel said. "And I'll put a good word in for you, so it won't be too hard."

Monica nodded faintly. "I see." She looked rather sick, but thankfully Phoebe held up a freshly rolled joint and handed

it to Rachel. Rachel lit it and then put it in her mouth.

"Ah," she said faintly. It made her feel warm inside, and the feeling went straight to her head. She handed it to Phoebe, who puffed on it and handed it back. After taking a long drag, Rachel held it out to Monica.

"Want some?"

Monica stared at it.

"Um, I've never, actually, had any - "

"You've never gotten high?" Phoebe said incredulously. "Damn, girl, I've been getting high since I was twelve!"

"Pheebs isn't the norm," Rachel said. "But Mon, ohhhh my God, you have got to try this."

"Isn't it, like, addictive?"

Rachel and Phoebe glanced at each other. "We're not addicted. You can't get addicted the first few times anyway," Rachel said.

"Just like you can't get pregnant the first time," Phoebe said knowingly.

"Right. Look, just take it. It'll make tonight easier," Rachel said coercively. Looking dubious, Monica took to joint and put it in her mouth. She inhaled sharply, and Rachel hid a smile as her face contorted. She started coughing and handed it back to Rachel. Phoebe chuckled.

"That's..." she trailed off, looking dazed. "That's actually kinda nice."

Rachel burst out in laughter.

"So what do I, ya know, do?" Monica gasped a while later as the three women sat on the ground, passing around the joint.

"To Joey?" Phoebe asked.

"Yeah."

"Well, you should be really confident - all slick and seductive," Rachel said. "That worked for me."

"And don't talk," Phoebe said. "He doesn't like talk."

"It confuses him," Rachel added.

"So basically I just walk up to his door and start... taking off my clothes?"

Rachel and Phoebe looked at each other. "I guess so," Rachel said. "Well, first, you have to, ah, prep him.

"And then kiss him a little bit, get him all worked up. Make it really... sensual, and special. Like he's the most

important guy in the universe." Phoebe grinned.

"And hang around afterwards... usually we just leave, but make sure to talk to him at the end, when he's calm and relaxed, and he'll definitely give you the job," Rachel added confidently. "Don't look so scared, Mon, you'll be fine."

"Yeah, Joey's not that bad," Phoebe said. "A pretty fine fuck, too."

"Just cause you do it recreationally..." Rachel murmured. She glanced at her watch. "Hey, we'd better go. Don't wanna keep Joey up too late." The girls giggled again, and then Rachel and Monica headed off in the opposite direction of Phoebe, who still had the joint.

They rode the subway for what seemed like a very long time to Monica. She sat slouched in her seat, looking at the orange plastic that the seats were mad of. It seemed twisted and way too shiny.

"This plastic is pretty," she said aloud. "Do you think I could have one of these?"

"Sure, whatever," Rachel said. "Hey, this is us." She stood up stiffly and exited the train. Monica also stood up, but attempted to take her seat with her. She pulled and pried, but she could not get the seat to come up.

"Monica, come on," Rachel whined. The train began to leave the station. When Monica refused to leave her precious chair, Rachel stalked back inside, grabbed her arm, and pulled her out.

"You are the worst high person I've ever seen," she grumbled. Never letting go of a slightly dazed Monica's, she marched her all the way to Joey's apartment.

A/N: Thanks for reading this first chapter. It gets more interesting and WILL be C&M. Now review nicely or Becca will send Chuck, Chandler's evil twin, upon all of you! Go on, now!

*Yen* and *Becca*