Bobby took the opportunity to go to the refrigerator. "Got any beers?"
"Should. Help yourself." Monica walked on her tiptoes towards Phoebe's room. The door was open and the room dark, to Monica's mild relief. No need to keep the noise down for now. Monica wondered idly where Phoebe was, and then saw the illuminated hands of Phoebe's clock. Only a little after nine. Surprising; it felt much later.
Monica turned quickly, which caused the room to spin more than it should.
"Oooh, I feel sick. I need some air." She wove her way over to the small window, opened it, stepped out onto the terrace. Monica leaned against the brick wall and hung her head out into open space, hoping the breeze would revive her.
She heard Bobby join her on the porch. "Hey, you all right?"
"Yeah. Just been a while since I've let myself get this drunk." She groaned, straightened up. "At least, I hope I'm drunk and not pregnant."
"Eep." Bobby opened his beer, lifted it towards the night sky. "Here's to Monica merely being drunk."
Monica smiled as Bobby took a swig. "Here, here."
Bobby set the can on top of the wall and looked around. "Blimey. That guy's got no clothes on."
Monica chuckled. "That's Phoebe's Cute Naked Guy."
"Cute?"
"Talk to Phoebe about that."
"Are they dating?"
"No. We've never talked to him. We just watch him."
"Watch the naked man parade about?"
"What's the point of voyeurism if there's nothing to voyeur?"
"Er, what does that mean?"
"I'm not entirely sure." Monica stretched her arms, feeling lethargic, the alcohol making her sleepy. "It doesn't seem to bother him that anyone nearby can see, so we don't feel guilty about making comments. Least, I don't."
"My, my." Bobby grinned. "It seems to be a joke amongst your friends about how serious and straight-laced you are, but underneath that, there's a bit of a naughty girl, isn't there?"
"No there isn't," Monica said reflexively.
"Yes there is." Bobby's voice was teasing. "You love to watch, don't you?"
"I do not!" Monica felt her face begin to heat up.
"I bet you do. We've found her, haven't we? Underneath the prim and proper Monica. There's a woman with her own peculiar desires that only takes a few beers to bring out."
"God, Bobby." Monica shot a look of disgust at him. "Is that your fantasy?
To think that underneath every woman there's a wanton creature yearning to get out? Well, guess what. There isn't. Just... just 'cuz I might tolerate naked men walking about their apartment doesn't mean I'm some kinda pervert."
"Maybe not." Bobby gently clasped her shoulders, turned her to face him.
"But there's something under there that wouldn't mind losing control once in a while, huh?"
"I, I like control." Her heart was suddenly beating quickly.
"Sure you do. It's like beating your head against a wall. It feels so good when you stop." He reached down, began unbuttoning her shirt.
"What, what are you doing?"
"Giving Cute Naked Guy his own show."
"Hey!" Monica stepped back, her blouse hanging open. "What, what makes you think I would ever participate in anything like that?"
Bobby grinned, picked up his beer can. "You're still banging your head, Monica. Try stopping."
Monica glared at him, then looked into the apartment. She bit her lip, then stepped past Bobby into the apartment. Monica stepped briefly into the bathroom, then went to the kitchen and turned out the lights. With the apartment completely dark, she slowly made her way back to the window.
She stepped out into the balcony, handed Bobby something she'd pulled from the kitchen closet, and spread a beach blanket on the ground.
Bobby stared blankly at what he held. "Uh, does this mean what I think it means?"
"It means," Monica said as sat on the blanket and began working at Bobby's pants, "that perhaps I wouldn't mind losing a little bit of control, but that I'm not entirely ready to give everyone a show. And it means that even if I loosen up a bit, I'm not about to get pregnant."
Bobby looked at her, then laughed softly. "So this is you being wanton in a very controlled manner?"
Monica grinned up at him. "Now you understand. Oh, and Cute Naked Guy can't see much with my blouse still on."
"He'd need some infrared binoculars to see anything in this light."
"Well, let's give him the chance." She held her arms out to her side.
Bobby knelt and took off her blouse. Monica leaned in, kissed him fiercely, and let just a little wantonness slip out into the open.
Monica looked up at the stars, idly stroking Bobby's back. He appeared to be asleep, which was fine for the moment although she'd have to wake him soon before Phoebe got home.
She was trying to decide how much she'd enjoyed this. Certainly the sex had been fine, but Bobby was pushing her in directions she wasn't certain she wanted to go. He lived such a chaotic, happy-go-lucky life, moving from party to party and having a ball all the while. Certainly she enjoyed spending time with him, but at the same time she did enjoy the occasional peace and quiet. In the weeks she'd spent with Bobby, the only time they'd really just sat and talked was at that first picnic in the park.
Did she need that? Did she need talky, feely sort of stuff? Or was it all right to just go out and have as much fun as possible for as long as it could last?
Monica half-closed her eyes and sighed. What was terrific was that she had a choice. For the first time in her life, she could dictate the terms of a relationship. In high school, there had been times she would have settled for anyone at all, no matter how horribly they treated her. Being in control made her feel wonderful.
Suddenly light came through the bay windows. Monica stifled a shriek and shook Bobby. "Wake up! Wake up!"
Bobby started. "What? What?"
"Phoebe's home." Monica rolled over and put her back to the wall in the corner between the bay window and the small window. "Get your clothes on, now!"
Bobby blinked at her a few times, then grabbed for his pants.
Monica looked around the terrace, groaning. Clothes were strung everywhere; she and Bobby had been a little too exuberant in removing them from each other. Monica grabbed her blouse and quickly put it on. She found her slacks and socks but couldn't find anything else. Cursing, she wriggled into her slacks. "Don't worry about anything else, just get into my bedroom."
Bobby was just finishing pulling his shirt over his head. He nodded and climbed into the window.
Monica threw her socks into the middle of the beach towel. Biting her lip, she looked around, spied her bra hanging halfway over the wall. She reached over, grabbed it, tossed it into the middle of the beach towel, then quickly rolled it up. She heard her bedroom door close, which meant Bobby had made good his escape. Quickly, she stepped inside.
She took two steps and stopped. Standing in the kitchen, holding the refrigerator door open, was Chandler. He looked terribly, awfully amused.
He looked her up and down and said in a casual manner, "Hi Mon."
"Hey." Monica felt her face turning completely red. "What are you doing here?"
"Was just going to fix myself a bedtime sandwich. I thought you and Phoebe were still out."
"Well, we're not." Monica tried to work up a righteous anger but was unable to do so. Chandler using the kitchen when no one else was home was not without precedent, and she found herself unwilling to demand that he stop doing so. All she could mumble was, "Don't leave the refrigerator open like that," and run towards her bedroom.
"Nice outfit, Mon."
Monica stopped just outside her bedroom. She took in a breath and turned to face him. "Please don't."
Chandler let the refrigerator door close. "Don't what?"
"Don't... don't joke about this."
"Do you see me making a joke?" Chandler grinned. "I thought I was being remarkably restrained about the whole thing."
"You, you are." Monica grimaced. "Just, just please, don't, don't joke about it in front of everyone else either, okay?"
"Don't joke!" Chandler looked comically stricken. "Monica, I could turn this into a month's worth of yucks for everyone."
"Please. Please don't."
Chandler shrugged, sounded sincerely casual. "Sure. I owe you for the nubbin."
Monica let out a relieved sigh. "Thanks."
"But why not?" Chandler leaned back against the sink. "Everyone already knows you're dating Bobby, what's so unusual about this?"
"I..." Good question, actually. "I... just don't want people to think I, I act like this all the time."
"What, have sex? Did you really think we were under the impression you and Bobby played tiddlywinks all night in your bedroom?"
"Bedroom, sure, but..." Monica trailed off, trying to formulate the words.
"But, you don't everyone to think you're an exhibitionist. You've got an image to maintain and it's important to you." Chandler nodded to himself.
"I understand. Fun Bobby's like that, he gets you to act silly in ways you never would normally. I know it's not you, Mon, and I think everyone else would understand that, too. But I'll let you tell them when you're ready to tell them."
Monica blinked at him. "Wow. When did you turn into Dr. Joyce Brothers?"
"Never, but my father does a darned good impersonation."
Monica smiled. "Thanks, Chandler."
"Hey, any time." He pushed himself away from the sink, waved at her, and left the apartment.
Monica turned and opened her bedroom door. Bobby had collapsed on the bed and appeared to be fully asleep. Monica studied him, still clutching the towel full of clothes. It was so odd. Bobby could make her laugh until she cried, but Chandler could make her smile. And somehow, the smiles felt better than the laughter.
Thinking deeply, Monica carried the towel with her to the closet and prepared for bed.
Monica held her hand to her forehead, the pressure helping the headache a little bit. With her other hand she took two aspirin from the bottle in the bathroom closet. She popped them in her mouth, then turned on the faucet and cupped a bit of water in her hand. She managed to bring a fair portion of it to her mouth and swallowed.
Having accomplished that minor feat, she walked out into the living room. She looked at the kitchen and decided coffee could wait. Monica fell back into the love seat and let her head loll back.
The door opened and a relatively cheerful voice called out. "Hey."
"Hey." Monica opened one eye to catch the smiling visage of her brother. "You're in a good mood."
"And I'm guessing you're hung over." Ross tilted his head. "Want me to fix you breakfast?"
"Some coffee would be lovely," Monica decided.
"Sure thing." Ross busied himself in the kitchen. "Fun Bobby here?"
"Nah, he went home."
"Phoebe?"
"Dunno. Do you see her guitar?"
"Yeah." Ross walked across the apartment, lightly rapped on Phoebe's door. "Hey. Want some breakfast?"
The door opened and Phoebe, already dressed, smiled at Ross. "Had some already, thanks. Hey, you look happy."
"It's a beautiful day, why not?" Ross moved back towards the kitchen, began rummaging about in the refrigerator.
Phoebe, meanwhile, walked over and stood behind Monica. She began lightly rubbing Monica's temples. "How are you?"
"Uh. Feeling better now." Either the aspirin or Phoebe was doing a great job of diminishing the headache. A minute later Ross handed her a cup of coffee, and Monica smiled her thanks at him. She sat up a little straighter to let Phoebe know that she was all right.
Phoebe moved into the kitchen to watch Ross fix himself some scrambled eggs. "So, really, what's got you being all Mr. Smiley today?"
Ross shrugged. "I just, just had a good talk with Carol last night. I think we got some things straightened out."
"Oh?" Monica perked up a little bit more at the news. "You working stuff out with her?"
"I, I think so." Ross cheerfully slid the eggs out of the pan and onto a plate. "We, we really talked, for the first time in like forever. It, it felt good."
"I'm glad," Phoebe said with a wide smile.
"Me too." Ross sat at the kitchen table. "So, what's the plan for today?"
"No plan here," Monica said. "I was going to wash the windows today if you want to help."
"Ugh, way to spoil my good mood," Ross said with a grin. He took a bite and looked up at Phoebe, who was just standing there smiling at him. "And you?"
"Oh, was thinking of going to play in the subway. Anything to be out of Monica's sight when she starts cleaning."
Ross chuckled. Monica smiled and took another sip of coffee.
The door opened again. "All right, who cooked eggs without making some for me?"
"I did, and I'll do it again." Ross gestured towards the kitchen. "You can make some for yourself."
Chandler rolled his eyes. "In the future, you are to check in with me before preparing any food. Is that clear?"
"Oh, it's clear, I just have no intention of ever following through."
"Man, your sister is much more pliable."
"She just likes cooking and cleaning. Try getting her to do anything else for you."
"I'll just have to try that some day." Chandler opened the refrigerator door, got out some eggs for himself.
Phoebe stepped towards the bathroom and stopped halfway there. She peered out the window. "What's that?"
"What's what?" Ross stood up, walked over next to Phoebe.
"That, there. Hanging on the telephone pole."
Ross took another step towards the window. "It looks like... underwear."
Monica felt a sudden rush of heat to her face. She quickly lifted her coffee mug in front of her face in an effort to hide it.
Fortunately Ross and Phoebe didn't seem to be looking at her at all. "Wow, how'd it get there?" Phoebe was asking.
"Probably some kids. Does that look like ladies' underwear to you?"
"Yes it does. Why would kids throw ladies' underwear onto a telephone pole?"
"The same reason they throw shoes, I guess." Ross looked back at the kitchen. "What do you think, Chandler?"
"I'm thinking that Cute Naked Guy had an intense but brief cross-dressing fetish."
Monica peeked at Chandler. He was nonchalantly frying eggs and wasn't even looking at Monica. Relief percolated through Monica and calmed her enough so that she felt her face beginning to resume its normal color.
"Well, at least someone was having fun last night." Ross stepped back into the kitchen and began to wash off his plate. "Monica, if I help you with the windows, would you help me go shopping later? I want to fix a nice dinner for Carol tonight."
"Sure." Her voice sounded quite normal, she was relieved to notice.
Chandler piped up from where he was sitting down with his eggs and some toast. "Just remember, Ross, you need to fix some food for yourself and Carol."
Ross snorted. Monica looked at Chandler, and for a moment their eyes met. She smiled her thanks at him and he nodded almost imperceptibly with a return smile.
Monica stood up and went back to her bedroom. Time to change into some durable clothes for cleaning. Ross didn't know it yet, but the windows were just the start of it. She smiled, anticipating his chagrin but knowing that their respective good moods would sustain each other and make whatever chores they had ahead more bearable. Monica planned to take advantage of that for as long as possible, before something bad could happen to spoil the moment.
Her headache now completely gone, Monica prepared for a pleasant day.
(to be continued)