I know bachelor parties are customarily right before the wedding day, but...eh, not in my story.
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Ross gazed absorbedly into the mirror, attempting to straighten his tie. He was already running a little late, and Joey and Chandler would be there any minute to pick him up for the bachelor party they insisted on throwing for him. Ironically enough, he hadn't even wanted one, deeming them archaic and a little tacky for his taste, but it had been Rachel who'd insisted he 'be a man' and 'let the slutty ladies take their clothes off in front of him'. She's then, of course, kissed him on the cheek and added "but not ON you".
Knock, knock, knock.
"Hey, Rach, can you get that!" he shouted from the bedroom. He decided to go sans jacket. That seemed too formal for a bachelor party.
It walked out into the living room to be greeted by the picture of his beautiful fiancee and his two best friends. He couldn't help but smile. Life was good.
"Hey guys," he greeted, coming to stand beside Rachel and placing his hand on her lower back. "Bye Sweety." He kissed her on the forehead and moved towards the door.
"Remember what I told you, Chandler," Rachel warned. "No naked women sitting on my fiance." Chandler winked and nodded.
"I'll take care of it," he promised.
"Yeah," Joey assured. "We'll send all the naked women my way."
Ross rolled his eyes before assuring Rachel one final time that he'd be back at an acceptable hour and sans lipstick marks.
"Besides," he whispered into her ear, pulling her close after the other two men had already begun making their way to the elevator, "you're the only woman I want dancing naked on me, and I'll be expecting full cooperation when I return."
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The strip club was actually fairly classy (at least as strip club go), with leather couches, thumping techno music, complimentary neon and strobe lights, a well-stocked bar and even a small waterfall at the back. Most of the men there looked about like Ross, Chandler and Joey, well-dressed and in their 30's, rather than a bunch of horny teenagers or groping old men. There were even a few women in the crowd, obviously sufficiently buzzed and there for shits and giggles on a girls' night.
Girls night, indeed.
Ross surveyed the landscape of the stage. Currently, 4 young women, all extremely attractive but also dangerously close to being minors, were gyrating, half-naked, around chrome poles in stilettos. Yep, he thought to himself, definitely a strip club.
"Hey, there's an open seat down in front!" Joey excitedly observed, grabbing Chandler's hand and pulling him towards the stage.
"Ross," Chandler deadpanned, "if I show up at your doorstep tomorrow with a suitcase, know I tried my hardest to convince my wife to stay married to me."
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"Rach!" Monica shouted upon entering her best friend's apartment.
"Yeah, just a second!" A minute later, Rachel appeared from the bedroom to find Monica sitting at the kitchen table looking visibly tired. "You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just forgot how exhausting getting in and out of this city is."
"Where are the twins?"
"Oh, I left them with mom and dad."
"Isn't it weird that we had to get babysitters tonight because our men are out at a strip club?" Rachel asked, though she had sent Carrie home a few hours ago when she had returned from work. Monica reached into her bag to reveal a large scrapbook-looking portfolio.
"Eh, not really. I mean, it's Chandler and Ross. Not much surprises me anymore. And you're sure you're okay with your fiance let loose out there with a bunch of naked women? And Joey?
"Hey, you're husband's out there with them!" Rachel reminded her, avoiding the question of jealousy. That had always been a pretty hot topic between her and Ross, and not pleasantly so, so she just as soon not admit that she still is and always will be jealous and possessive when it comes to him.
"I know, I was just joking! Rach, don't worry. You know they're good men. Besides, I'm sure Joey will pick up any girl who comes within a 10 foot radius of any of them before she can even lay a finger on Ross or Chandler."
"Okay, you're right," Rachel admitted, sitting down and trying to clear her head. "We've got more important things to worry about...like my wedding!" she exclaimed elatedly, clapping her hands together.
"That's right! Now, are you SURE you want Barbados. It's going to be June, you know. It gets to be like--"
"Monica, what did we agree about you trying to micromanage this wedding like you did with Phoebes?"
"Alright," she submitted, holding her hands up in mock surrender, "loud and clear."
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"Dude, is this not THE best bachelor party you've EVER been to?" Joey exclaimed, watching the stripper he'd just paid his $5 to saunter away from him, a goofy smile plastered across his face. Ross rolled his eyes but nodded, begrudgingly.
"Yeah, it's alright," he submitted. He glanced down at his watch. "We'd better get going pretty soon, though. I know I don't have class for another 2 days, but I feel like I'm losing brain cells just sitting in this place."
Chandler, obviously agreeing, satisfied with his requisite one lap dance for the evening, started to stand up.
"Yeah, I'm with you. Monica's going to kill me if I don't get home pretty soon."
Just as Ross was about to stand up and attempt to pull Joey from his seat, he felt something soft rub up against his back, followed by a sexy, sultry voice.
"You fella's leaving so soon?"
Ross whirled around to the site of an obviously Brazilian, half-naked woman standing before him, a devilish grin on her face and a wickedness about her eyes. She stroked his bicep absentmindedly through his dress shirt, sliding it down to his exposed forearms where he'd rolled his shirt sleeves up.
"Yeah, uh, we've got to be getting home to our...wives!" he fibbed a little, earning him a glare 'yeah right' glare from Joey.
"Yeah!" Chandler played along, seeing how dire this situation could become, and how uncomfortable Ross seemed. The girl was now snaking her other hand around Ross' waist, narrowing in on his ass. "God, we love 'em, but they're SCARY when they're mad. Alright then, come on, Ross!" he quickly added, feigning apologies and grabbing Ross by his arm.
The woman didn't let go, though. In fact, she only grabbed Ross tighter. Licking her lips, she made a point to roll her pelvis into his hip and move her mouth close to his ear.
"You know, we've got a special room for sexy bachelors like you in the back."
"Uh, I'm not a bachelor," he reminded her, becoming increasingly uncomfortable. He tried to pull away, but not only did most of his muscles seem to be paralyzed by uneasiness, this little woman was actually a whole lot stronger than she looked.
"I happen to know that's a lie, and that this is your bachelor party," the woman revealed. "Why do you lie to me? I think we both know what you'd like to do right now."
Ross shivered, looking to the other two men for help. Both were seemingly frozen in place, looking back at him with equal confusion and horror. He closed his eyes and swallowed deeply, praying this woman wouldn't take that as a skewed sign of arousal, rather than the sign of terror that it was.
"Come on," she encouraged. "Be a man. You are free to do as you wish until you walk down that isle."
"Uh, I think my girlfriend would beg to differ," he contested. "My girlfriend whom I love VERY much," he added for emphasis. It did not seem to phase the pretty woman, though.
"Oh, just give me five minutes with you in the back, and I don't think you'll even be able to remember her name," the woman wagered. Knowing this had really gone too far, now, and that, had the tables been turned, he would be FUMING at the prospect of a man saying these things to Rachel, he rather aggressively tore away from the woman.
"No, look, this is not going to happen!" he exclaimed, stepping away from her and towards Chandler and Joey. He straightened his shirt and tie, feeling dirty. "I'm sorry, but we have to be going now. Excuse us." Before he could walk away, though, she'd whirled him around again.
"Oh, don't be such a prude," she spat, and before he knew what was happening, she had her arms tightly around his neck and her lips pressed against his. It took him a few seconds to even realize what was happening, but when he did, he pushed her away almost violently.
"Hey!" she shouted, suddenly outraged. "What the hell's the matter with you? You gay or something?"
"I told you, I'm in love with my fiancee! Now, maybe most of the guys who come in here and desperate and lonely and willing to just jump into the sack with any random stripper who throws herself at him, but not me!"
Proud of (and a little surprised at) the mature way in which their friend had handled himself, and unsure that even they could have been so composed, Chandler and Joey patted him on the back and nodded. Turning away, the three men walked out of the bar, leaving the stripper dumbfounded in their wake.
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Ross walked into his apartment around midnight that evening, frustrated that all the lights were turned off and Rachel was apparently nowhere to be found. She must have given up waiting on him. Maybe she'd even gone home for the evening with Monica for a nostalgic 'girls night', or something to that affect. Either way, after what happened at the strip club, he'd really been looking forward to seeing her. For some reason, he just knew it would dull his uneasiness.
He loosened his tie and made his way across the living room in the dark, careful not to stumble over anything. Before he could even make it over to the kitchen area, he saw a hint of light ignite from around the corner in their bedroom, and heard the light padding of footsteps. Rachel appeared from behind the corner in front of him dressed in a simple white tank top and a pair of yellow bikini-style undies. Her hair was messy, as she'd obviously been napping.
"Hi," she sweetly whispered, smiling and wrapping her arms around him. She stifled a yawn. "I was getting tired so I just laid down to rest my eyes when you came in. How was your night?"
He wrapped his arms in return around her and kissed the top of her head, feeling the stress wash off him. He debated about telling her.
"Eh, you know, nothing special. Just a bunch of naked ladies."
"Yeah, because that's not a big deal," she sarcastically quipped. He chuckled and shook his head, rubbing his hands up and down her back, from her shoulder blades down to the inward arch of her back. He loved that spot on her back--that little concave curve where her waist got so small and he could wrap both arms so protectively around her.
"Well, none as pretty as this naked lady," he assured, meaning it. Hoping that this could be the end of their conversation for tonight, not just to avoid an uncomfortable revelation about the incident, but mostly because he was now very turned on by the way her bare legs and tummy were rubbing up against him and her teeth were digging lightly into his lips.
"Anything interesting happen?" she asked between kisses and nibbles. Christ, he thought. He might as well just go ahead and tell her. Honesty was the best policy, right? Mistrust had been their downfall the first time around, so he might as well try rectify it this time. Plus, maybe it really seemed worse to him than it actually had been.
"Well..." he trailed off, rubbing her bare arms.
"What?" She was obviously curious now.
"There was sort of an...incident...I guess...if you want to call it that." Uh oh, he was back-peddling. That always made things seem worse than they were.
"Ross?" she enquired, pushing away from him a little. She'd gone from intrigued to worried.
"No, hey, it was nothing. There was just this thing...with this stripper...and she--"
"She WHAT!" she almost yelled. She didn't like yelling at him, or really even raising her voice to him, but when her fiance had apparently had a 'thing' with 'this stripper' and was hesitant to reveal much else, she couldn't help but feel a little perturbed.
"She kissed me," he deadpanned. Quick like a Band Aid. One motion. Right off.
"What?" she gasped, a hurtful look of simultaneous pain and betrayal shading her face. "She KISSED you?" Her voice and posture reminded Ross much of the way she's looked and sounded when he'd revealed his kiss with Jill--not nearly as upset as she'd been with the momentous Chloe incident, but stunned and obviously jealous, none the less.
"No, shhh," he cooed, shaking his head and stepping closer to her. He placed one hand on her waist and used the other to brush a strand of hair away from her face. She was still stiff, arms crossed tightly over her chest, her eyes averted towards the floor, but he could tell he was warming her up. "Sweety, it's okay. It was harmless."
"Oh, yeah?" she replied bitterly, looking up at him again. "Would you think it was harmless if some half-dressed, really good-looking guy made out with me?" Ross considered this, picturing Rachel lip-locked with some Fabio, Chippendale's dancer type, and he had to admit, the thought did make him cringe. Still, the intention behind the act was what mattered the most.
"Well, that depends. After I punched him in the face, I'd ask if you kissed him back," he retorted, the response mostly tongue and cheek, though he was really only half kidding. She nodded weakly, understanding where he was coming from, but still not very happy. Giving in a little, she stepped into his embrace, toying with the buttons on his shirt.
"So...you didn't kiss her back?" she asked, her voice small and adorable. He smiled. He couldn't help it. He just couldn't believe she actually didn't seem to understand that he could never be with another woman--even kiss another woman--ever again. Not after her. She was it.
"Sweety," he whispered, shaking his head in disbelief, "of course not. Hey, look at me..." he coaxed, tipping her chin up with his finger, bringing her eyes to lock with his. "You're the only woman I ever want to kiss for the rest of my life. In fact, I could spend the rest of my life ONLY kissing you, and it probably wouldn't be enough."
She was smiling widely, now, seemingly having forgotten what the conflict had even been. For as awkward, and shy, and clumsy as Ross could so often be, he sometimes knew exactly the right words to melt her heart. She ran her hands up his chest seductively.
"Well, why don't we get a head start on that?" she provoked, her voice sultry. She stood on her toes and felt his hands roam across her lower back as she took his lips into her mouth and bit down lightly, sucking and rolling her tongue over it. His hands dipped lower, over her ass, and she moaned slightly.
"I love it when you make that noise," he admitted, his voice full of lust. "Will you do something for me?"
"Anything," she whispered, standing on her tiptoes to bite his ear.
"Well..." he began, reverting back to his usual, less confident demeanor and getting shy. Remembering what he'd said to her right before he'd left that evening, she sensed what he was going to ask.
"Ross..." she began, wrapping her arms around his middle and linking her hands at his lower back. She looked up at him playfully. "Do you want me to strip for you?"
"Yes, please," he eagerly responded, nodding his head and smiling. She giggled.
"Come on," she whispered. She took his hand and led him into the bedroom, feeling his arm tense behind her, knowing how excited he was getting, like a kid being led into a candy store. Before she could even sit him on the bed, he'd already begun groping her in the darkness of their room, grabbing her ass and clawing at the hem of her shirt. She smiled.
Ross sat on the edge of the bed, consumed by anticipation. He was vaguely conscious of the goofy grin plastered across his face, but he didn't care. He was moments away from getting a striptease and lap dance from the most beautiful, sexiest women he'd ever laid eyes on. It was all he'd been thinking about since he'd walked into that strip club. The women on the stage--while beautiful and talented--were not Rachel.
As she began moving, he could sense she'd done this before, though never for him. He found himself getting slightly jealous at the thought of her doing this for some random, unworthy guy, but those thoughts were suspended by the entrancing way her hips were swaying. It was almost as if she were salsa dancing. Where had she learned to move that way? He was well aware of the command and discipline she had over her body when it came to other activities, but he'd never really seen her dance before. She was good.
"Where did you--"
"Shhhh," she responded, shaking her head. "That's my secret."
He was satisfied with that answer, scooting back on the bed and propping himself up against the headboard. He put his hands behind his head, keeping his eyes latches tightly to her. This was the life. He wouldn't move as long as she was.
She's already removed her skirt and tank top, now moving before him in a matching black lacy bra and thong set. If only she were wearing stilettos, he mused. They'd save that for another night.
"Do you want me to take this off?" she teased, referencing her bra. He was unable to do anything but nod.
Then, she changed the pace a bit, climbing on top of him and straddling him on the bed. She braced her hands against the wall behind either side of his head. Touching a striper/lap dancer is usually forbidden, so he'd have to break character to do it, but he didn't care. He couldn't resist. He moved his hands from her elbows, up her arms to her shoulders, down her sides, around her waist, over her back and ass, and back up again. He buried his nose in her hair. He kissed her face. All the while, she grinded her hips and crotch into him, moving rhythmically and circulatory.
"Why don't you do it for me?" she provoked. So he did, unhooking the bra in record speed and flinging it aside, pushing her back a little so he could enjoy the newly exposed expanse of skin. She loved the way he stared so intently. He was mesmerized. More than that, though, he just looked so grateful.
Slowly, she turned around on his lap, her back facing him, and began rhythmically rotating her hips, pressing her ass into his crotch. Behind her, she heard him groan and felt his fingers slightly grazing the skin of her sides. She could tell he was trying his best not to pull her more tightly down--didn't want to be audacious or controlling--but he wasn't succeeding very well. It was like a reflex for him to want to grab her. Executing a move that would secretly turn him on more than anything else she'd done that evening, she reached behind her and took his hands, putting them firmly on her sides, letting him know that it was okay for him to touch her. She wanted that. She might have been stripping for him, and, currently, giving him a mind-blowing lapdance, but this wasn't like that impersonal place he'd spent the evening. This was better. She wasn't one of those girls. SHE was turned on by HIM. She knew him. Cared about him. Loved him.
"Rach?" he inquired, his voice low and dense, and she knew just what he meant, feeling what he was referring to through his pants. Stopping, she turned around to face him again.
"Well, I guess we'd better get moving, then, huh?" she enticed. She draped her arms around his shoulders and smoothed his hair out with her hands, watching the way his Adam's Apple bobbed as he swallowed deeply, trying to maintain composure. Then, her mind settled on the way his hands were so tightly gripping her sides. He was holding onto her for dear life.
Suddenly, though, the demeanor of the happening changed. It had been she who'd taken control, initially, but now Ross was flipping her over, situating himself above her. Looking into his eyes for some answer, she could see his intentions there--he wanted to reassure her. He wanted to prove to her that she really WAS the only woman he wanted to be with--wanted to kiss, or touch, or make love to. He wanted to erase any doubt that the incident with the stripper had left in her mind. And she let him do this, secretly knowing she really did need that reassurance more than she was letting on.
"I love you," he whispered, and though cliche, it was appropriate.
It was simple, and sweet, and pure. It was everything she needed to hear, said with the utmost heartened honesty. It was not shallow or rushed, shouted out during a hazy moment of climax. It was whispered delicately into her ear, punctuated by a nibble, during a moment of stillness, where it could not be muted nor undermined. He said it, and he meant it with every thread of his existence, and she knew it. She smiled and cupped his face with her hands.
"I know you do, sweety."
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