My wife looks unbearably hot right now.

Most people might think I'm exaggerating; those are people who haven't seen Monica tonight.

Little black dress takes on a new meaning with this woman.

The most amazing part is that she has no idea that every other man at this party has stared at her at some point tonight, much to the chagrin of their dates.

She doesn't look like the standard, stereotypical, suburban wife and mother. That's not to say that all the women here tonight do look like that, it's just that Monica looks better.

I know that I'm biased, but it seems that I'm not the only one who thinks so. Chandler from a few years ago would probably be insane with jealousy right now, not that she's ever given me a reason to doubt her fidelity. No, those would be my own insecurities rearing their ugly head. But now…I don't know; maybe it's having a carful of kids or our house or the fact that she never seriously glances at another man, but I don't let myself get bent out of shape about it the way I used to. I have a hot wife; guys are going to look at her. As long as she comes home with me, let them look. Let them wonder how a schlub like me managed to snag a girl like that.

I still wonder that myself sometimes, but I have her.

Not that I get lazy with her; just because I know she's coming home to me doesn't mean I don't put in the effort to make sure that's what she wants. I'm not a complete idiot.

I listen to the guy in front of me—Harry? Henry?—talk about the stock exchange with half an ear, nodding occasionally, trying to feign interest, as I watch my wife do the same across the room, laughing politely at the pair of women who've cornered her.

New Year's Eve has changed a lot for us in the last few years. Usually, we spend it with our little group of friends, but now we're all scattered about and it's not really the same.

Phoebe and Mike are busy with a three month old baby and are not at all interested in leaving her for an evening at the moment.

I get that—last year, Monica and I stayed home with the twins and were asleep well before the ball dropped.

Ross and Rachel took Ben and Emma to Florida for a week, so they're off enjoying the warm weather in January. Bastards.

Joey's in LA shooting a movie.

Since Monica and I declined a lot of invitations last year to various gatherings in the neighborhood, we sort of felt the need to make up for it this year. Somehow, we managed to score invitations to a party at the fanciest house I've ever seen in real life.

Monica and I live in a nice house in a nice neighborhood. When we first started looking, we knew that we'd rather spend a little more on a mortgage to get a house that we love and would want to grow old in than get a cheaper house that we'd just want to move out of eventually, so we wound up in Westchester County, which is essentially the land of nice houses.

But compared to this house, we look like we live in the Projects.

I'm not entirely sure what these people, the Alexanders, do for a living, but it must be lucrative. This place takes up an entire cul-de-sac. And it's within walking distance from our house, which really kind of blows my mind. These people are very nice, though, and very generous; tons of food, lots of alcohol, and even though the place is fancy, there's actually a fun, laid-back atmosphere to the whole thing, which is nice.

I vaguely hear the guy—Howie?—excuse himself and I take a sip of my beer, sitting on the edge of a couch, focusing my attention on Monica completely. Even though she looks a little bored with the conversation, she's completely radiant. It's been forever since we did anything just the two of us. Even a year ago, if we didn't have the twins with us, William was still around, tiny as he may have been at that time. Since William was born, anything we've done, we've done as a family, and I don't know that either of us can complain about that; I love watching my kids learn and grow, and they're actually fun to be with. But, we both did reach the conclusion that it wouldn't hurt us to spend some time together like we used to. So Monica went out and bought a new dress, her parents came and picked up the kids for the night, and here we are.

Monica's eyes meet mine and she smiles at me a little, my lip automatically quirking up in response. She says something to the women in front of her and turns to me, her eyes widening just a bit as she walks toward me. I chuckle a little and watch her knock back a large gulp of scotch as she reaches me.

"Easy there, Mon," I say, reaching out to stroke her back and she nudges me with her elbow as she stands in between my legs, her side pressed against my chest.

"Hey, I pumped a lot of milk so I could have a few drinks tonight."

"Yeah, but it's been over a year since you last had alcohol. You're probably kind of a lightweight right now."

She kisses my cheek, nuzzling my face a bit before putting the drink on the table behind us. "I hate when you're right."

"You look amazing tonight," I tell her, stroking her hip gently, and she presses her body against me a little more firmly.

"So you've said. A few times, actually."

"It's true every time." She's showing off her post-baby body with pride now, having seemed to mostly accept that parts of her may always be a little different. But between going for the occasional jog and various other physical activities—both clothed and naked—the fact that she's stressing a lot less, and that breastfeeding burns tons of calories, and that she didn't look bad to begin with…she looks pretty hot.

"You just like that my boobs are everywhere in this dress," she says quietly, her hand on my thigh, and I shiver just a little.

"Not gonna lie—it doesn't hurt."

"Wait 'til you see what's under the dress." I swallow heavily and feel myself stiffen a little against her thigh. She looks at me out the corner of her eye, her expression smug, and I suddenly cannot wait until we can excuse ourselves and go home.

This is also the first time we've had our house completely to ourselves for a full night. It's weird to think about our kids not being there when we get home tonight, but…it might be kind of nice to have some time alone.

"Having fun?" I ask, my voice cracking just a little.

"It's not bad. It's a little weird, but not bad. It's interesting having to explain to people how I met my husband—I'm so used to everybody knowing that story and I keep forgetting we're around new people. I will say that I made more than one woman squeal when I said that I met you in high school. I think that's all some of them have to hear. Apparently, it's 'adorable.' Actually, from what I've heard, we're 'adorable'."

"Naturally," I agree, wrapping my arm around her a little tighter.

"Just this right now is probably enough to send them into sugar shock," she tells me, grinning. "But, yeah. Every aspect of our life is apparently just super cute, including our children, of course."

"Of course." We're quiet for a few minutes, watching the party around us. It's nice to be out, and it's even nicer that we got the invitation, but neither of us are usually up this late anymore. I look at the clock on the wall—almost midnight. At least we have that going for us.

"How long after midnight do we have to stay?" Monica whispers and I grin against her hair; we're almost always in sync.

"I say we give it five minutes. We'll kiss, drink some champagne, thank our hosts, and go home. And then you can show me what's under the dress."

"I think you'll like it, not that there's much to see."

I take a few deep breaths, begging my body not to react. "You're killing me, Mon."

A tray of champagne flutes appears in front of us, quietly held out by a waiter. We grab our glasses and thank him when we hear another voice. "Oh, good, you're still here."

Monica looks up and smiles—this time genuinely. "We wouldn't leave without saying goodbye. Leta, this is my husband, Chandler. Chandler, this is Leta Alexander."

Ah. The hostess. I've spoken to her husband tonight but have only really seen her in passing. I hold out my hand, giving hers a polite shake. "Hi. Nice to officially meet you."

"You, too. I'm so glad we finally got you two to come out. How long have you been in the neighborhood now?"

"A year and a half," Monica answers, and I can't help but feel a little surprised—I don't think I'd realized just how much time had passed.

"I know you've been busy, though," Leta says sympathetically. "Three little children! How old did you say William is?"

Either this woman and my wife have become very chummy all of a sudden, or she's been pumping Monica for information all night. "About five and a half months."

"And the twins are twenty months. They're all beautiful, though. You should bring them over here some time. My youngest is just over a year," she says to me, and I blink, having a hard time trying to keep up with the pace of her thoughts. "And I have one that's three and one that's five. I'm sure they'd get along, though."

"I guess we could do that," Monica says, looking up at me for a moment. "Jack and Erica are pretty good with getting along with kids of all ages. I'm sure they'd have fun."

I can sense her trepidation, and I can't blame her. This is just all new ground for us. So far, aside from daycare and their cousins, the kids haven't really done a play date thing yet. I'm sure it'd be good for them, and it certainly wouldn't hurt us to get to know the people in our neighborhood a bit more.

"Plus, it would give us a chance to talk about schools and pre-schools."

I think my heart stops for just a few seconds. "Our kids aren't even potty-trained yet," I tell her. "We haven't really thought about them going to school…"

"It's never too early," Leta says brightly. "And the waiting lists for some of these places can be crazy. It's better to try to get them in early."

I tune her out. I am not prepared to talk about my kids going to school. I doubt Monica is, either. It's too much too soon. I want to be able to enjoy them as babies for a while longer.

"It's almost midnight," she says with a sigh. "I should go make sure everyone's all right."

"We're probably going to head out soon," Monica tells her. "Thank you for inviting us; we had a great time."

Leta looks a little disappointed. "I understand. But please; promise we'll get together soon."

Monica smiles at her again, and I'm surprised that it's still genuine. "Definitely. Happy New Year."

"Happy New Year," she repeats. "And thank you for coming." With that, she disappears back into the crowd, which has swarmed into the giant room to prepare for the stroke of midnight.

"Well…she was a little…enthusiastic?"

"I spoke with her earlier tonight—she's really very nice. I think she's just lonely."

"Unhappy marriage?"

"I didn't get that vibe. Her husband seems pretty nice, too, and I didn't feel any tension or anything. I think people just find her money intimidating. I guess I can see that; you look at this house and the kind of party they can throw just for their neighbors, and people probably assume that she either has a million friends or is stuck up or something like that. But she's just a regular person; she even does her own grocery shopping, which is how I met her to begin with. I think she just…needs a friend."

"Well, who better than you?"

She leans up and gives me a gentle kiss. "You don't have to butter me up, you know. I'm a sure thing."

I feel a shiver race down my spine, and I'm suddenly exceptionally eager to get my wife home. "What do you say we head out of here now? Think that'd be rude?"

"Less rude than having sex in the hall closet."

I nod in agreement and we both tilt our heads back, gulping our champagne before dropping the empty glasses on a passing tray. She takes my hand and we wind our way through the crowded room to the front hall, where everyone's jackets are neatly hung up on racks for us. I dig out ours and do the gentlemanly thing of helping my wife into hers as we hear the people behind us start the countdown to midnight. We make it as far as the front walk before noise erupts in the house, people cheering and screaming and celebrating, and Monica tugs my hand, making me stop.

I've barely turned to face her before her arms are around me, pulling my face down to hers, our lips meeting in a slow, sweet kiss; I feel my heart pound just like it did the first time she kissed me. I slide my hands around her waist, pulling her closer, and she moans softly into my mouth.

"Happy New Year," she whispers, pressing her forehead against mine.

"Happy New Year," I answer, pulling her closer to me for a moment before taking her hand again. "Let's go home."

The look in her eyes lets me know that we should hurry. I love when my wife is horny. Fortunately, our house really isn't that far.

"Thank you for taking me out tonight," she says, her breath forming bright puffs of white in front of her face in the cold night air.

I shrug a little self-consciously. "I didn't do much."

"It was good. We went to a party like grown-ups with a bunch of other grown-ups. It was fun. I mean, part of me misses the babies so badly I feel like I could cry, but…it's kind of nice doing things just the two of us. We don't get to do that a lot anymore."

"Well, I think we have more than a few people who are willing to watch our kids for us any time we want a night out."

"We may have to consider taking them up on that once in a while."

We're quiet for a few minutes as we walk, fingers still laced together, and we turn onto our little street.

"You know what I think I like best about this place?" she says suddenly.

"What's that?"

"It's midnight and we're walking down the street like it's the middle of the afternoon. I don't feel like we're going to get mugged or jumped or that I should have my keys out just in case. Logically, I know that can happen anywhere, but this place just feels safer."

I let go of her hand so I can slide my arm around her shoulders. "I know. We made a good call moving out here, even though it's been hard without everyone. I think our kids will love growing up here. And don't say anything, but we have the nicest house in the neighborhood."

She laughs as we turn up our walkway, her heels making soft clicking noises on the cold pavement. "It'll be our secret." She steps up onto the porch and abruptly turns around, facing me. "Hey."

"What?"

"I love you." Her arms slide around my neck, pulling me close again, kissing me deeply, and I smile at the feeling of her cold cheeks against mine.

"I love you, too." Her arms tighten around me and I pull her tighter against my body, kissing her again—between her heels and standing on the porch, we're nearly the same height, which is an odd experience.

"Sex on the porch would be wrong, right?"

I press my head against her shoulder, groaning. "Monicaaaa…"

"Just tell me it would be wrong."

My entire body reacts to her, almost violently. "I don't think it's wrong, but…it's way too cold."

She giggles into my neck. "Wouldn't want it to go into hiding." She presses her lips against me, gently sucking at my skin and I clench my teeth, my fingers digging into her for a moment.

I dig my hand into my pocket, pulling out my keys. Monica grabs them from me, grabbing a fistful of my shirt with her other hand and dragging me to the door. Her hand barely shakes as she unlocks the door and pulls me inside.

As soon as the door shuts behind me, she's on me, pushing me against the door for a moment. I grab her coat and push it down her arms, and it falls to her feet with a gentle whoosh. I shake off my jacket and sports coat, feeling it slide down the back of my legs. I wrap my arms around Monica again, pushing her into the living room. We stumble a bit as we trip over one of the twins' toys and I kick it out of the way, hearing it hit the wall with a dull thud.

Monica drops about an inch and I realize she's stepped out of her shoes. She shoves me suddenly and I land on the couch, shocked, my chest heaving. She's standing over me, breathing heavily, and our eyes meet. A slow, devilish grin spreads over her face; suddenly, I'm unreasonably excited. I stretch my leg out, nudging her leg with my foot and she climbs on top of me, her dress bunching up, her legs straddling my thighs, her lips meeting mine.

For a few minutes, I keep an ear out, waiting for one of the kids to wake up. I'm not sure what clicks—maybe it's the absolute quiet of the house or maybe my overly-aroused brain finally catches up, but…we don't have to worry about it for a few hours.

That's unbelievable.

I pull away from her for a moment, my hands cupping her face, and I smile at her broadly.

"What?" she asks, her breath coming in short gasps.

I shake my head. "Just crazy in love with my wife," I tell her. "No big deal."

She runs her hand down my face, sliding it down my neck until she reaches my shirt, her fingers fiddling with the buttons. "I'm crazy in love with you, too."

She leans into me again, our lips meeting a little more slowly now as she deftly unbuttons my shirt. My hands go to her knees, sliding up her thighs under her dress, my fingers meeting what feels like a mere scrap of fabric at her hips.

"So," I say, my lips drifting down to her neck. "I take it that you went shopping for a little more than a dress."

"Want to hear something completely un-sexy?"

"Always."

"I had to pad my bra just in case I lactated spontaneously."

I snort against her skin before breaking out into laughter. "That is so hot. Spontaneous lactation."

She laughs with me, tossing her hair over her shoulders with a shake of her head. "I thought you might like that."

I rub her hips gently and she wiggles against me a little. "So, before I get irritated with myself, where's the zipper on this thing?" I've been stymied by her clothing far too many times in the past for my liking, and I prefer to know what I'm getting into.

"Side," she answers, lifting her left arm a bit so I can see. "I know how much you love those."

I grunt a little, my hands already working on the device, pulling it down with relative ease. She lifts her arms as I bunch up her dress, pulling it over her head and tossing it off to the side.

"You are going to have to take that to the drycleaners," she warns me as she pulls open my shirt, trying to push it down my arms.

"I think I can manage that," I breathe, staring at her underwear, entranced.

One would think that, by now, seeing this woman in her underwear wouldn't be quite the event that it used to be. But it feels like it just gets more incredible every time, even when it's something as simple as her running around getting ready for work.

What she has on right now, though…definitely skimpy. See-through in very strategic locations, dark—probably black—material on the rest of it, and it's somehow kind of shiny, like it has little threads of silver running all over it.

I swallow heavily as I drag my eyes back to hers. "Wow."

She blushes a little even as she grins. "Thank you. I also want it noted that this is the first time in almost a year that I've worn something other than a maternity bra. This is a special occasion."

"I'll say," I whisper, burying my face between her breasts for a few moments, breathing her in. Her hands come up to stroke my hair, her hips moving against me very gently. I reach around her back and unhook the bra, feeling it come loose and slide down her arms before she drops it to the floor. I move my lips to her breast, kissing gently, nipping here and there; I move my tongue gently across her nipple, taking it in my mouth, sucking for only a few moments, the sensation of that weirdly erotic for both of us.

I know she loves nursing William, and I'm glad that it's so good for both of them, but part of me can't wait to have her breasts all to myself again.

I move to the other one, moving my lips around her slowly, her hips pushing against me a little harder. I dig my fingers into her back and pull her into me, sucking at her again for a few moments, her head falling back as she gasps.

"Stand up," I whisper, and she stares at me blankly for a couple of seconds.

"Why?" she finally asks, and I gesture to my pants; technically, I don't need to take them off to do this, but where's the fun in that?

She carefully moves off my lap and I stand with a slight groan, carefully undoing the belt and zipper before shoving the pants down my legs. My boxer briefs follow quickly behind, as do her own panties. I grab the blanket off the back of the couch and toss it on the floor, kneeling down beside it. I take her hand give her a tug, and she kneels in front of me, our bodies so close but not quite touching.

Her hands come out slowly, her fingers dance down my chest, my hips, and carefully down my erection. I shiver a little, sliding my own hand slowly down her stomach, down between her thighs, dipping a finger into her carefully, feeling her body tense a little around me.

I pull her to me, our hands still working their magic on each other, our bodies rubbing against each other slowly, soft moans and noises filling the dimly lit room. I give her a little push and she sits down slowly; I gently lower her to the floor, keeping my body pressed against her.

We kiss languidly, taking our time with each other, our hands exploring familiar territory, reacquainting ourselves with each other. Her legs fall open, cradling me between her thighs, her beautiful, familiar heat setting me on fire.

I press my forehead against the floor next to her head for a moment, gasping. It doesn't matter how many times we've had sex by this point, and the number has to be in the thousands after almost eight years together; it's always the most intense, almost-surreal experience I could ever have. It just gets better with her. The more we get to know each other, the more we fall in love…even after all this time, just increases the experience, makes it all better.

Her fingers tighten around me just a fraction and she moves me into position; all it takes is a gentle thrust and I'm inside of her, groaning at the sensation, her eyes closing as her mouth falls open, a quiet moan leaving her lips.

We push against each other slowly, taking our time with it; there's no need to rush tonight.

Her hands move in slow circles on my back; I massage her thigh gently with one hand, play with her breast with the other.

I feel like I'm home. It's so warm and comfortable, but so exciting and exhilarating. My heart pounds against my chest as our lips meet over and over; I can feel her heart beating almost in time with mine.

She thrusts against me a little harder, increasing the friction. I pull back and look at her, watching her face as she moves. She's endlessly fascinating and mind-blowingly beautiful, and she's my wife. I'm so proud to be able to say that she's mine, and even more proud to say that I'm hers.

She tightens herself around me and I struggle to keep the pace moderate, not ready for this to be over yet.

Her hands move to my biceps as I brace myself on my elbows around her, her eyes opening to meet mine. The irises are dark and smoky, full of love and lust and wonder.

I can already feel myself tingling.

She lets out a shuddery sigh that turns into a moan, her head falling to one side. I press my lips against her neck, her pulse pounding beneath my lips.

Her fingers dig into me, her body tensing a little and she bites her lip; she looks incredibly erotic.

"Love you," I gasp.

"I know," she answers, and I grin.

I change the angle of my hips a little, pushing up just a fraction, and her eyes open wide as her mouth drops open, her volume suddenly changing. Her knees bend a little more, her thighs grip at me a little tighter.

I keep moving into her, watching her, breathing as deeply as I can.

She gasps, leaning up to kiss me again, her body rising to meet mine every time.

She's incredible.

With no warning, she buries her face in my neck, her body coiling around me, and all I hear is her exclaiming, "Yes yes yes yes yesyesyesyesYESOHGODYES!" as she thrusts against me.

I keep myself as slow as possible, trying to draw it out, trying not to turn into a caveman, and am only partially successful. A few moments later, I'm shuddering against her, her name tumbling out of my lips reverently, our bodies moving in tandem, everything else in the world gone for a few eternal moments.

My arms give out and I collapse gracelessly on top of her, my ear pressed to her chest, her heart still racing. Her hands clumsily stroke my back as we struggle to get our breathing under control.

"You were kind of quiet," I note, planting a kiss on her soft, damp skin.

"Force of habit," she assures me, kissing the top of my head. "It's hard to change your mind set for one night, you know?"

I nod, stroking her arm. "Just as long as it was good for you."

She tugs at my hair, making me look at her. "Really? All these years and you still need me to reassure you?"

"That part of my ego always needs stroking, yes."

She rolls her eyes playfully. "Yes, darling, it was good for me. You are a stallion."

I wiggle against her a bit, grinning at her smugly. "I am, aren't I?"

She smacks my shoulder and I roll off her, grabbing the blanket I tossed on the floor earlier and pulling it over us. She curls into me, settling into my arms and I realize where we wound up. "Huh. I don't think we've ever had sex under the Christmas tree before."

"That doesn't seem likely."

"I know we've had sex near a Christmas tree before, though that was at the apartment, and last year I was so paranoid about hurting William that we definitely didn't have sex under the tree, or anywhere near it for that matter."

"Well, remind me to add this to my wishlist for next Christmas. Think Santa would mind giving me the same thing two years in a row?"

"I'm pretty sure Santa will be happy to give this to you as often as you want."

"Well, in a few years our kids are going to be a lot more aware of their surroundings, and I do not want them traumatized with seeing their parents have sex next to their Christmas presents."

I shudder a little, pulling the blanket around us a little tighter. "Eww. Yeah, that'd be bad."

"But, you know…we should do this a little more often."

"Sex on the floor?"

She kisses my shoulder, then bites me gently. "Not that part. Somehow, we manage to do that pretty frequently. No, I mean, take a night off. Go on dates. Spend some time just the two of us."

"I like that. I don't think I realized just how long it had been since we spent time alone together until tonight. I think it's much needed."

"And, we should probably make more of an effort with our neighbors. I don't want to wind up being isolated out here with no friends because we're worried about offending the rest of the gang."

I tighten my arms around her. "You're right. We'll take some of these people up on their offers once in a while."

"God," she says after we've been silent for a while. "I'm going to have to pump and dump so much breast milk tomorrow."

"Are you saying I could get a buzz from it right now?"

"Uh, no, but William probably could. He has enough trouble with coordination as it is, I don't think I need to make it worse."

I kiss her forehead and sigh. "Hey, Mon? We haven't talked about this yet, and I realize now it's kind of like closing the barn door after all the horses have gotten out, but…should we be using condoms again?"

"I've been wondering that myself. I really don't want to, though."

"Yeah, I don't, either."

"I mean, I guess I could go on the pill again, but…I'm okay with the possibility of getting pregnant again. I know it's unlikely, but I hate to take away the option. But, what do you want? This affects us both."

"I don't hate the idea of another baby at some point, and I'm definitely with you about not taking away the possibility of it happening again at some point."

"You know, we haven't really talked about more kids."

"I know; William came up so suddenly and we've been pretty busy with the three of them. I don't think I'm ready to look into adoption again just yet—I'd like to have our kids a little more spaced out—but if you got pregnant again, I'd be okay with it."

"So…yes to more kids, but preferably later?"

"Well, maybe just one more. But yeah; let's give it some time."

"Deal," she whispers, wrapping her arms around me a little more tightly and I sigh into her hair. More kids. Wow. Or at least the possibility of it. That's still pretty huge.

If Monica found out tomorrow that she was pregnant again, I'd be thrilled. I'd be more than thrilled. Ecstatic. But until that day or the day we adopt another one comes, I'm okay with our little family. Our three amazing kids keep us pretty busy.

But I do like the possibility of some day.