The Number Seven

Chandler was taken by surprise when Monica crashed into him, but his shock at what was happening did not stop him from kissing her back. Their first kiss was a hard, passionate kiss that seemed to transform into something more tender the longer their lips were pressed together. She pulled back and placed several smaller kisses along his jawline and neck, almost as if that initial kiss were a work of art and now, she was leaving her signature on him. She took his face in her hands and brought her mouth to his once more, parting his lips with her tongue. He could not believe how perfect her body felt pressed up against him or how well she fit into his arms. He let his eye glance towards the bed and he began to guide them closer to it; driven by unconscious desire, but then he hesitated and he became keenly aware that this was not some girl he was preparing to have a drunken night of sex with, this was Monica. Regretfully, he gently pushed her back and away from him. He was intimidated by her forcefulness as she leaned herself towards him and hungrily tried to keep her lips on his. He could hear her whimper and moan as they separated and those small noises that escaped her lips only spurred on his own arousal.

"Woah. Woah! Woah! We're making out?"

Monica gritted her teeth, annoyed and somewhat nonplussed at his protest. "Well, not anymore."

"Yeah, but we don't do that."

He could feel her body coil up as she stood before him, almost as if she were about to pounce on him like a predatory cat and tackle him onto the bed. Her muscles flexed and her fingers curled as her eyes dropped to his lips. "I know, I just thought it would be fun."

"How drunk are you?"

"Drunk enough to know I want to do this. Not so drunk that you should feel guilty about taking advantage."

Chandler excitedly dragged her to the bed, and she collapsed on top of him as they kissed again, this time at an almost frenetic pace. It was as if they were making up for all the times that they had denied themselves this moment between them. Trying to recompense nine years of absent kisses.

"That's the perfect amount."

As he kissed her once more, he knew his logic was not sound. He entertained a fleeting, distressing thought that when morning came and the sun broke its light across the room, yanking them both from their drunken, post-coital slumber, they may see the events about to unfold tonight very differently than they do right now. He did not care. She was hot. She wanted him. He wanted her. What would be the benefit of trying to resist when he could be tangled in her limbs as they discarded their clothes and tossed them in a pile on the floor. Why try to suppress human nature when all he could think about was the taste of her lips. Sweet and savory, like honey and scotch. Although he was earnest in his attempt to serve his better angels, he knew from the second she collided with him that he was going to submit to her will. He could not fight her and her ravenous desire even if he wanted to. After all, Chandler Bing was not the fighting kind.

Chandler, spent and near exhaustion, rolled over and off Monica. The two of them laid next to each other in silence as they tried to catch their breath. He gulped in heaps of air as he focused on lowering his heart rate and quieting his trembling legs as a smattering of adrenaline coursed through his body. He wanted to relish everything that had just happened, every second and every sensation, but he was already beginning to second guess himself, ruining his chance to relive the last half-hour of passion in his mind. No matter how hard he tried to focus on this nubile, naked goddess of lust next to him, he could not stop his brain from sabotaging his mood. Was this a bad idea? Will she look at him differently? Was he any good in bed? Would she want to have sex again? What if this moment of weakness ruined everything between them?

Monica could feel her slick sweat already drying on her skin, causing her stomach to shiver as the cool breeze from the hotel air-conditioner hit her body. As she came down from her sexual high, her arms tingled, and her vision was spotty. This entire week that she had been in Vegas, she felt as if there was a specter following her, always looking over her shoulder. Ready to drag her down into a pit of depression. She kept it at bay with gambling, drinks and a night of dancing. Yet, she knew it was always there, waiting to wrap her in its leathery wings as the haze of her distractions faded and the memory of what spurred on this impulsive, crazy trip across the country crept back into her mind. It seemed there was no cure for her disease; no repellant for this predator of despair. Yet now, as she took deep breaths of air into her lungs, it was gone. Sex was the disinfectant she needed to scrub out the black spot of her crumbled relationship. Specifically, sex with Chandler.

She turned to look at him, and he let his eyes drift to hers. It was almost as if he knew she was ready to return to the real world as the rapturous euphoria of her orgasm began to subside. They took a moment to stare at each other and they shared a smile. Both realizing that they had been good and properly laid and communicating that to each other without saying a word.

Monica wasn't sure who was going to break the silence first, and she thought about simply kissing him again and seeing if he had another round of love-making in him, but before she could make her decision, Chandler reached over and tapped her arm.

"So, uh, that was good for you? Right? Everything worked out okay?"

Monica closed her eyes and huffed out a laugh. "Did you hear the noises I made? Those were the good noises."

Chandler rolled over on his side to face her as a giddy smile spread across his lips. "Yeah? Really? On a scale from one-to-ten, where was I?"

Monica let out another laugh and shook her head. She then gestured with her finger between the two of them. "This part here, where you ask me questions like that, this actually lowers your score."

"Really? Why?"

Monica rolled over so she could face him. "Women don't want this. Not after that. Don't be so needy."

"Needy?"

"Yeah. You did everything well. I'm very happy. You should be proud."

Chandler submitted with a nod but then pulled in close to her. So close, that she could feel his breath on her neck as he spoke, and she felt her need for him rising again.

"I know, it's just, well, I share a wall with Joey."

"Am I going to like where this is going?"

"What I mean is, I can hear him when he's…uh…entertaining, and, let's just say the women he sleeps with agree with him very enthusiastically. Normally, I know where everything goes, and when I'm with a woman, we agree on a lot of things and it's always nice. But never like what I hear from Joey's room. I just want to take it from nice to oh my God! Someone is killing her in there."

Monica shook her head and smiled. It made no sense to her why she found this endearing. "Chandler, you really don't have anything to worry about."

"Okay."

Chandler tilted his head side-to-side and rolled over onto his back. He looked up at the ceiling and Monica could see the wheels spinning in his head. She eyed him sympathetically and shook her head.

"Okay, fine. You really want to know how to drive a woman crazy?" She looked across the room to the desk in the corner and pointed at it. "Go get me a pad and a pen."

Monica felt lost in a sea of undulating waves of delight. She found herself lying there with a satisfied smile on her face as all the tension that might have been left in her body slipped away. She wondered if she would soon be lifted to a higher level of ecstasy, but the blissful sensation she was feeling was a slow build. It was almost as if she were a lobster in a pot, unaware that the temperature was rising slowly. Much to her delight, the water began to boil, and she closed her eyes tightly as sharp instances of pleasure overcame her. She gritted her teeth and she moaned loudly, almost surprising herself. One hand reached behind her head and grasped her pillow while the other flailed about, clawing for anything to hold onto. Her legs felt like they were becoming numb. Her moaning stopped as she discovered she could no longer make a sound. Her mouth opened wide, but nothing came out. She clutched at the sheets and twisted them in her fist as she brought her other hand from the pillow to her hair and ran her fingers through her scalp, trying to experience some type of tactile sensation with every part of her body. She was certain she had never felt this level of sexual gratification from oral sex before.

Usually, when a man went down on her, Monica did not particularly enjoy it. Most of the time, she could tell when they were either very inexperienced or were not particularly enthusiastic about it, and it always stopped her momentum cold. Men never seemed interested in taking the time to find out what felt good to her or what she liked. While her past lovers may have considered what they were doing was foreplay, she simply counted down the seconds until her partner abandoned trying to please her and brought himself back up so she could reignite her arousal in their passionate kisses.

Tonight, it was different. Her arousal from Chandler's touch seemed almost impossible to comprehend. Just his hand grazing her shoulder got her pulse to quicken, as if she were experiencing some polymorphous perversity. He played her body expertly, like a skilled musician. And now, as he reached his climatic crescendo, he had unlocked something animalistic inside her. Everything was going hazy again as she succumbed to the electric pulses rising through her entire body. She felt like they were floating in space, lifted above the earth where the laws of gravity and physics no longer existed. Time stopped. All there was now in the entire universe was the two of them and this bed.

"Oh my god. Don't stop! Please don't…uh….woah! Stop! Stop!"

Suddenly, the blanket flipped up and over. Chandler lifted his head and looked at her with a puzzled expression on his face.

"What? Did I do something wrong."

Monica tilted her head and frowned a bit at him. "Not really wrong, it's just, well, you kind of went somewhere I wasn't expecting."

"Really? But I was counting and everything."

"Counting?"

Chandler pulled a piece of paper up and scrutinized it. "Oh, I see what happened. Sorry. I had this upside down."

Monica ripped the paper from his hand and tossed it to the side. "You don't need this anymore. You got it memorized. I can tell."

"Really?"

Monica nodded as she started to push his head down and pulled the blanket over him once again.

"Oh wow."

"That was amazing."

Chandler and Monica were stretched out perpendicular to each other on the bed. His head was resting at her ankles as he looked up at the ceiling, trying to blink his eyes and bring the world back into focus. Monica couldn't help but giggle. It was an uncontrollable, involuntary reaction to how weak her body felt in this moment. Every limb was sore, her muscles tender, yet, all she could think about was climbing back on top of him and finishing them off for good. Chandler lifted his head and then dropped it back down, as if the weight of it was too heavy for him.

"Oh wow."

"That was amazing."

Monica found the strength to prop herself back up on her elbows and she stared down at the top of his head.

"I'll tell you what, we are going to do that again."

Chandler nodded along, almost submissively like a loyal pet.

"Oh, okay."

Monica gingerly walked across the room and stepped into the low glow of blue light that was slicing through the blinds. The only evidence of the neon playground that existed outside their room. As she approached the minifridge in the cabinet next to the television, she ran her fingers through her hair to brush it back as it was still sticky with sweat and clinging to her forehead. Her legs were weak, her jaw sore, her lips swollen, her arms and back warm and achy. Her muscles cried out for relief, begging her to cease the punishment she has meted upon them. She tried to stretch and shake off her weariness.

She crouched down and opened the door to the small refrigerator. Her lips were dry, and her throat felt as if it were cracking. She knew she needed more than the bits of melted ice chips that were left in the bucket from when Chandler had filled it up a few hours ago. She snatched a water bottle and twisted the cap off, averting her eyes from the price list, afraid if she saw how much it cost, she would be overcome with regret, and this was a night she wanted to experience without compunction.

When she first woke up, she looked at the clock and was amazed that it was only three-thirty. It felt like ages ago when she and Chandler drifted off after they completed their fourth round of toe-curling sex. She was certain that it had to be morning when her eyes opened, which actually caused her some dismay; she was not done with him yet. But, as fate would have it, they still had a few hours left in the night to squeeze dry.

She thought about getting in a quick shower, but she was thirsty, and worried that perhaps, when the water hit her body, it would douse the flames of desire that she still felt within her. Her need to continue this marathon night of sex and laughter compelled her to ignore her usual instincts. Instead, she wrapped herself in Chandler's shirt, did up three buttons, and began to think of how much longer she should let him sleep before compelling him to make love to her once more.

She placed the bottle of water onto the table and began to rifle through the miniature alcohol bottles they had stored in the fridge that were still left from her raid of the drink cart on the plane. She held up a tiny bottle of tequila and smiled at it.

"Hey? What are you doing?"

Monica looked over her shoulder and smirked as she watched him groggily rub his eyes and pull the sheet over himself to cover his naked body.

"I'm getting us a drink."

"I think we had enough to drink. There are sailors on shore leave that don't drink as much as we did."

"Well, I thought maybe this would get our strength up."

"Mon, I really don't want to disappoint you, but I don't know if I have any more in me."

Monica stood up; his blue dress shirt fell just above her knees. The angle of the bottom hem rose slightly on her hips, exposing her thighs to him. When she turned around, he gasped as the front was open just enough that he could see her chest, but covered her breasts, creating a look that only served to tease him and had his chin quiver with anticipation. He was certain that this was the sexiest thing he had ever seen.

"You know what Mon? I don't think I need a drink. I'm ready."

Monica laughed and looked down at herself, almost unaware of what her appearance was doing to him.

"Really?"

"Monica. From now on, just wear that. Nothing else. You should only be dressed exactly like you are right now."

Monica laughed and shook her head as she bit on her lip. "I might get fired if I do that."

"That's okay, I'm going to quit my job tomorrow so we can just do this from now on."

"What will we do for money?"

"I'll pay you. I have savings."

Monica smirked as she placed the small bottle of tequila down on the table. "I'm not that kind of girl."

"What kind of girl are you?"

"This kind."

Monica slipped his shirt off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor. She watched his eyes go wide and even in the dark, she could swear she saw his pupils dilate. He sat up and pulled the sheet around him, like white cotton water lapping at his body. She felt as if she could see his temperature rise, and she knew, in this moment, that she had him.

Chandler stepped into the room with a bucket of ice and drained the last from a bottle of water that he had in his hand. He looked over at the bed and saw Monica lying there with her eyes closed. He quickly slipped off his socks and boxer shorts, leaving him only in his shirt when she sat up to look at him.

"What are you doing?"

"I thought maybe we needed to re-hydrate." He walked over to her side of the bed and placed a cold bottle of water next to her. She smiled up at him and quickly twisted off the cap to take a drink.

"Nice outfit."

"Yeah? You like it?"

He spun around slowly as if he was presenting himself to her. He began to hum a staccato tune, accentuating each note with a turn of his body. The shirt barely covered him under his waist and Monica couldn't help herself but giggle at his performance.

"Is this supposed to turn me on?"

"You know you can't help but check out the Chan-Chan-Man."

Monica covered her mouth to stifle another laugh and then quickly took another sip of her water.

"And now…." Chandler started to squirm a bit and he tried to pull his shirt down. He squeezed out one shoulder, but the collar became tight around his chest, causing him to look like he was stuck in a straitjacket. He smiled nervously and tugged harder on the sleeve as he tried to undress.

Monica leaned up on her elbows and pointed at him. "What exactly is this?"

"I'm trying to seduce you, you know, like you did before…."

"It's not working out so good for you."

He struggled and strained to slide the shirt down, huffing as he pulled on the materiel. "I just have to…get this arm…out."

Monica got up on her knees and reached over to grab at the front of his shirt. He stopped his effort and she played with some of the fabric, pulling on it and rolling it between her fingers.

"Let me help you there Romeo."

"I almost had it."

"I'm sure you did." She slowly undid the buttons and loosened the shirt until it fell to the floor, leaving them both naked before each other.

"I really wanted that to work."

Monica pointed to the shirt on the floor. "Even if that worked, it wouldn't have worked."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"I just wanted to, you know, turn you on or something. How do I do that?"

Monica laughed and pressed a kiss to his lips as she pulled him down onto the bed. She then glanced over at the bottle of water and gestured towards it with her head. "That turns me on more than any striptease you could try to do."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. That you went out to get me something to drink while I was asleep because you knew I was thirsty, very hot. Very sexy."

"Oh well in that case, wait until I order you breakfast."

Monica laughed again and pulled Chandler down on top of her. She was amazed at how much fun she was having. As he pressed his lips to hers, she felt like a veil had been lifted from before her eyes, and suddenly thought it silly to be so surprised that he was the one she was having this amazing night with. This was Chandler after all. He was fun. He was sweet. As she felt him press his body against her, she welcomed his weight on top of her, and she realized, that he had always been this sexy. She just never let herself really see it before.

Chandler ran a towel roughly over his head, leaving his hair an unkempt, spiky mess. He glanced over his shoulder when he heard the gentle squeak from the faucet followed by the sharp pitter-patter of water behind him. The pressure increased and the room was now filled with the sound of rushing water as it pounded against the walls of the shower. He then realized that Monica was completely and utterly naked behind its fogged glass door. He pulled the sash of the robe he was wearing tight around his waist as he suddenly became acutely aware of how naked he also was underneath its thin layer of terrycloth.

Steam billowed and filled the tiny hotel bathroom, and although he had already rinsed his body off, he felt like he was starting to sweat again. Perspiration caused by both the rising temperature in the room and the nervous, paranoid energy coursing through his veins, threatening to overcome him and leave him a befuddled mess of broken sentences and wild gesticulations.

Earlier, when the sun finally came up and poked its rays of light into their room, he opened his eyes and looked over at the sleeping beauty next to him. In that moment, it dawned on him that he had not properly weighed the consequences of having sex with Monica. Part of him had hoped that he would immediately start to regret everything that had transpired between them. Perhaps feel remorse over risking their friendship for a night of carnal pleasures. Experience a sense of contrition at betraying the unspoken code that told him sleeping with Ross's little sister was a grave sin. Anything at all to make him realize that last night was a mistake. But those feelings never came, and now, as he wiped the steam from the mirror and stared at himself, keenly cognizant that there was a beautiful, naked woman in the room with him, he relished in the fact that he felt no guilt. How could he? Last night was the greatest night of his life. He'd be a fool to want to turn back time and expunge it from his history.

"Chandler…."

"Uh, yeah?"

"I was thinking, I might need some help with my back before breakfast."

Chandler turned quickly and saw the door to the shower open as Monica stretched out her arm and beckoned him to join her. As he started to frantically rip off his robe, he knew, no matter what happened from this moment on between them, he would never regret this night. He could only hope that she felt the same way.

Monica walked up to the buffet and eyed the piles of food before her. Sausages, hash browns, eggs, bagels, pancakes, fruit platters. It was a literal cornucopia of plenty, and although none of it looked particularly inviting to her sophisticated palate, it made her mouth water. She was famished. She could not remember ever being this hungry. While she knew she would regret filling up on this mass-produced breakfast food, she didn't care. She needed to eat. She took the tongs from the tin of bacon and placed a few pieces on her plate. She then eyed the scrambled eggs and wondered if perhaps she could carry two plates of food back to her table.

Before she could decide what to take next, she heard quick, soft footsteps behind her and then there was a gentle rush of air that traveled up her arm. She glanced over to find Chandler standing next to her. He hunched over and gave her a sympathetic smile. His features were soft and gentle, and he wore the face of someone about to deliver bad news.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"Look, I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but I'm starting to worry about what we did last night and what it could do to our friendship."

Monica nodded as she shuffled over, eyeing a stack of waffles. "I know. How could we let this happen?"

"Seven times."

Monica winced and Chandler gulped a bit, worried he was about to find out that she regretted last night more than he might have suspected. He tried to distract himself from what he could only assume was going to be a devastating dissertation on everything they did wrong by grabbing a spatula and placing a pancake onto his plate. He braced himself, ready to hear that his best night was her worst.

Monica grunted and then turned to face him. "You know what? We're away, right? I blame Vegas. It makes you impulsive."

He nodded in agreement. "Bad Vegas!"

Chandler looked down and struck the pile of pancakes with the flat end of the spatula. Monica turned her head sharply, and her breath hitched as she inconceivably felt a pang of jealousy that she was not on the receiving end of that spanking. She bit her lip and then caught his eyes with her.

"So, uh, as long as we're still here, we can keep doing it, right?"

"I don't see that we have a choice. But when we're back home, we don't do it."

Chandler felt a thump in his chest, and he wondered, if like some cartoon wolf, his heart was pounding in and out of his body for all to see. He had hoped that the morning after, Monica would not be too harsh with her repudiation of what they had done. Never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined she would want to continue sleeping with him.

Monica nodded in agreement. She could not explain why, but to her ears, he was making a lot of sense. "Only here. Right? Anyway, they say what happens in Vegas…"

"Oh, please don't finish that sentence."

Monica shrugged her shoulders and smiled sheepishly.

Chandler looked around the room and lifted an impish eyebrow. "You know, I think I forgot my wallet in the room. Maybe we should go back up there and look for it."

Monica's eyes lit up as she smiled at him. "Okay!"

Chandler dropped his plate and the spatula on top of the buffet table. He grabbed her hand and excitedly pulled her behind him as he turned to leave.

Monica yanked back on his arm abruptly. "Wait!"

He stopped and she turned around to face the buffet table. She grabbed the spatula and shot him a devilish grin.

"Okay, now I'm ready."