One-Shot: Humiliate the Boy
Monica stood at the top of the staircase, listening as Chandler and Ross had entered the house and greeted Rachel and her parents. Her plan to get Chandler back for calling her fat the year before was already set in motion. The idea was to show off how great she looked now, making him regret ever teasing her appearance. Her hair and makeup were perfect, but the real payback was going to be when he saw her body. She had put on her nicest dress, the one that complimented her new figure best. She wasn't one to think much of herself looks wise, having never been the desire in anyone's eyes before. But tonight she'd even admit it, she looked damn good.
"Monica, come down here!" Her mother called out. "Everyone's here. Ross, Rachel, and the boy who hates Thanksgiving."
Monica took that as her cue and began walking down the stairs, taking a breath as she stopped at the end of them before walking over to everyone. "Hi Chandler." She said, dragging out her words to give them a more sexy tone.
Chandler glanced back at her, his eyes somehow landed on every part of her in a matter of seconds. "Oh my god." He said, his voice strained.
"What, what's the matter? Is there, is there something on my dress?" Monica asked, playing clueless as she spun around and gave him a good look at her.
"You just, you look so different. Terrific." Chandler said, his eyes wandering down her body again. "That dress, that body."
"Dude!" Ross said, snapping Chandler out of his trance.
"Sorry." Chandler told him.
"Yes, yes, Monica is thin. It's wonderful." Judy said, not sounding as though it were that big of a deal. "But what we really want to hear about is Ross's new girlfriend."
Monica rolled her eyes at her mother's not so subtle way of changing the subject to Ross. Normally it would have bothered her more, but her mother was not the one she was caring about impressing right now. And by the way Chandler kept looking at her as Ross went on about his new girlfriend she could tell it was working. "So Chandler, I guess I'll see you at dinner." She said as soon as Ross finished talking, starting to walk away.
"Okay." Chandler mouthed to her as she passed by him, not looking back as she walked toward the kitchen.
"Dude!" Monica's father said, loud enough for her to hear.
"Sorry." Chandler said back.
Monica smiled to herself, no doubt that he had been looking her over again and got caught. Her smile faded almost instantly as she stepped into the kitchen, suddenly feeling like that moment had not been as satisfying as she had hoped it would be. She walked over to the kitchen table, getting back to where she had left off on preparing the meal before she got ready.
"Ohh my god!" Rachel said, excitedly rushing into the kitchen behind her. "That was so awesome! You totally got him back for calling you fat, he was just drooling all over you. That must've felt so good!"
"Well it didn't." Monica said, disappointment in her voice as she peeled a carrot.
"What?" Rachel asked, surprised.
"Yeah, I mean yeah, I look great. Yeah, I feel great, and yeah, my heart is not in trouble anymore! Blah, blah, blah!" Monica said, brushing it off. "Y'know I still don't feel like I got him back, y'know? I just want to humiliate him. I wanna, I want him to be like naked, and I wanna point at him, and I wanna laugh!"
"Okay, that we may be able to do." Rachel pointed out.
"How?"
"Well guys tend to get naked before they're gonna have sex.
"What?" She asked, shocked as she scoffed at her idea. "I mean, I didn't work this hard and-and-and, lose all this weight just so I could give my flower to someone like him!"
"Okay, first of all, if you keep calling it that, no one's ever gonna take it. And then, second of all, you're not gonna actually have sex with him. You're just gonna make him think that you are."
"Yeah." Monica said quietly, smiling at the thought.
"Yeah."
"And then when he's naked I can throw him out in the front yard, and lock the door, and then all the neighbors will just humiliate him." Monica said, practically giddy.
Rachel laughed. "See, and then you will definitely get him back."
"Okay, so how to I make him think that I wanna have sex with him?"
"Ah, oh, here's what you do. Just act like everything around you turns you on."
Monica shuffled around a little in place, confused. "What do you mean?"
"Well, like, anything can be sexy. Like, uhm, oh, okay-" Rachel said, stepping over to the stove and grabbing the rag off of it. "Like this dish towel. She said, taking it and patting it against her cheeks. "Ooh, ooh, this feels so good against my cheek. And, and if I get a little hot I can just dab myself with it. Or I can bring it down to my side, and maybe run it through my fingers while I talk to him." She said, bringing it down to her side and running it through her fingers.
"I can do that." Monica said, excitedly.
"Yeah? Okay. Good, good, good, because he's coming. He's coming." Rachel said, trying to hand her the rag then giving up when she didn't take it and throwing it off onto the counter before she walked away. "Hey, what's up?" She said, nonchalantly as she passed by Chandler to leave the kitchen.
"Hey." Chandler said quietly, nodding at her as she left the room and closed the door behind her. He stepped toward Monica as she moved around the bowl like she was about to get back to what she was doing. "Monica, I was wondering if you could make me some of that righteous mac and cheese like last year." He said, grinning over at her.
Monica found herself getting a little flustered. She told herself it was from the excitement of getting him back, but she also didn't hate how good it felt that he was trying to flirt with her. "Ah, I'd love to." She said, running off to grab a box of pasta from the cupboard. Rachel's idea came to mind and she put the box up to her face, rubbing it against her cheek. "Ooh, I love macaroni and cheese. I love, I love the way this box feels against my cheek." She said, smiling over at him.
Chandler opened his mouth to speak, stopping to look at her questionably. "Okay." He said, unsurely.
"Ooh, and I love carrots. Oh." Monica said, picking up several of them between her fingers and bringing them to her side. "Sometimes I like to put them between my fingers like this, and hold them down here while I talk to you." She said, rubbing them and the box of pasta on her simultaneously. "Uhm, and you know, if I get really hot, Uhm, I like to pick up this knife and, uhm, I put the-the cold steel against, uhm, my body." She told him, picking up a knife off the counter and pressing it against her stomach.
"Okay, I'm just gonna, ah, take this from you." Chandler said, gently pulling the knife out of her hand and setting it back on the table. "Because no good can come from playing with knives."
Monica set down the box of pasta and carrots on the table along with it, feeling like her approach wasn't working as well as planned. She looked over at him, trying to work out something new in her head.
"Are you okay?" Chandler asked, sounding genuinely concerned as he took a step toward her and placed his hand on her arm.
"Yeah, I'm, ah, I'm fine." Monica said, moving away from him so that his hand was no longer on her. It wasn't because she was uncomfortable, but because she didn't want him being sweet clouding her judgement from what she had planned to do.
"Are you sure?" Chandler asked, looking over at her. "You're acting kinda, different."
"Isn't different good?" Monica asked, thinking of how much he seemed to be enjoying how different she looked.
"I suppose, in some ways." Chandler said, looking confused as to what they were really talking about.
"And even so, how would you know if I was any different? You hardly know me."
"I guess I don't." Chandler said, stepping closer to her again. "I'd like to know you better." He said, looking right into her eyes deeply.
Monica wasn't sure what to say back to him. She was supposed to be the one flirting with him, and making him feel all nervous, not the other way around. She decided to attempt and reclaim the advantage. Whatever sultry technique Rachel had prescribed to her clearly wasn't working. Time for a new approach. Like the one she had watched all the starlets use in the classic movies.
"So…." And she pressed herself closer to him, thrusting her breasts out prominently. She inwardly smirked at how Chandler, flushing, turned and backed up all the way in a circle to dance away from her and Monica followed him. "You and Ross are the…. big men on campus?..." She let her eyes dip very deliberately down towards his crotch on the word 'big.'
Chandler turned bright red, and chuckled in a boyish, bashful way. "Well, we're planning to rush the biggest fraternity on campus."
"So, by biggest, the one with all the hot sorority girls, I'm guessing," Monica mused, twirling a strand of her perm behind her ear.
Chandler giggled. "Yeah…. Something like that…."
"Sorority girls are mostly sluts," Monica dismissed sharply, with a dismissive wave of her hand. "I'm sure a big….. tough…. guy like you would want to taste a real woman….."
Chandler appraised her up and down, a curious smirk twisting his lips. His interest was clearly piqued. "Yeah? How do you mean….?"
"Oh, well…. let's say someone who was…. pure…. Untouched…." She lolled her tongue out, licking her lips. "Virgin…." She whispered in a hiss.
Chandler's eyes expanded and darkened all at once. Monica blinked her own baby blues at him, batting her eyelashes at him, the best that she could attempt.
"You must feel hot," Monica observed, quite abruptly even as she attempted to make it sound casual. "Let me hang that up for you…" She pushed his ice cream suit jacket off of his shoulders, so that it landed with a splatter, forgotten on the kitchen tiles.
Monica turned away; casting a glance over her shoulder, she could see how Chandler was gawking at her. "I'm feeling a bit stuffy in here too…."
Chandler swallowed. "Yeah, it is stuffing – stuffy! Stuffy…. The, um… the stuffing's in the oven…."
Monica suddenly flitted up to him and rested a finger on his lips. "Ssssh….. don't speak…." Backing away, she fought to keep her grin at bay, so close to payback. She was on the cusp, enough that she could almost taste it. Even so, she nervously swallowed: now for the hard part.
Backing away from Chandler, she slowly undid the straps at her forearms so that the bodice to her little black dress fell away, revealing her breasts underneath. She flashed her tits at him; Chandler let out a kind of whimper.
Monica smirked to mask how she was trembling inside. She had never flashed anyone before in her entire life, her previous body image having taught her a healthy lesson in modesty.
Even so, her moment of supreme vulnerability was also ludicrously effective. It was almost cartoonish, how fast Chandler now whipped his red sweater-vest over his head. Threw down his matching white slacks so that they pooled comically at his ankles. Monica had to bite back a laugh. He was wearing boxers, which actually left her feeling disappointed: she had been hoping to see briefs, because Lord knows there is nothing sexy about briefs.
Her nipples still hanging out and pebbling even in the warmth of this kitchen, Monica drifted close to Chandler, pressing herself against him, backing him up until his back was trapped against the rear screen door. She reached around him, as if to take him in her arms, their faces quite close.
For just a second, she was distracted by the smoothness of his lips. How they looked so soft. For a moment, she was tempted to…. to kiss him…..
No. This was for her dignity. For the dignity of fat girls, and formerly fat girls, everywhere.
Grinning wickedly, she pushed open the rear screen door behind Chandler, where she had been groping for the door handle, with one hand; with the other, she gave Chandler a shove on his admittedly broad and expansive chest so that he fell backward through the screen door and out into the cool night air.
"What the…..? – Monica!"
Quick as lightning, Monica slammed the door in Chandler's face, locking it with the latch. Cackling with glee, she gathered up all his clothes, pointing at him, shrieking with laughter at his humiliation so richly deserved.
Chandler started to pound on the screen. "Come on, Monica – this isn't funny! It's freezing out here!"
"Too bad, slugger!" It was all Monica could get out between her dry heaves of giggles.
Revenge tasted so sweet, she almost forgot how her tits were still hanging out so she was flashing all her assets at the man.
"Mon?"
Monica blanched at the sound of her brother's voice approaching. Frantically, she stuffed Chandler's clothes in the first cabinet she came across before lunging to tug her bodice back up over her exposed breasts, her face ducking with shame. She pulled herself together just moments before Ross came through the kitchen door.
"Mon, Dad wanted to know about the stuff…." He swayed to a halt. "Chandler?... Why in God's name are you on our back porch in your underwear?!" His face was twisted in almost comic revulsion, sufficiently grossed out.
Around Ross, Monica and Chandler shared a look. Monica tensed, bracing herself for her brother's roommate to out her in explanation.
What he did instead left her floored.
Smirking, Chandler sent Ross a hapless shrug. "I was thinking of joining a nudist colony. Wanted to get some practice in, especially in these colder elements."
It was a total lie, and not even a halfway plausible one: you couldn't be full nudist while still standing in your underwear. Monica cast her eyes downward, feeling a sharp pang course through her.
Ross sighed and rolled his eyes. "Well…. if you wanna eat separate from the rest of the table again like last year…. on your own head be it, however you do that. Eat Mon's mac and cheese naked, for all I care!" He stomped away and out of the kitchen, grumbling.
Monica and Chandler gazed at each other through the screen door. Chandler hugged himself, stuffing his palms up into his armpits.
Before she could ruminate too much on the odd feelings jumbling about inside her, Monica seized her ill-gotten gains, and absconded with Chandler's clothes, intent on hiding them in a safer, more private place until after Thanksgiving dinner.
Monica pranced up into her room later that night, flush with victory. Carefully closing and locking the door behind her, she dashed over to her bed, onto which she dumped the pile of clothes she had been clutching tightly to her chest.
Staring down at the pile of absconded clothes, she grinned with triumph. The white blazer and slacks were far too monochromatic. The red sweater, while nice enough, clashed horribly with said white duds.
Honestly, in stripping Chandler of his entire outfit, she had really been doing him a favor.
…. So where the hell was this odd stab of guilt coming from? This twinge that was threatening her at the moment of her finest hour? An image of him out on the back porch, just through the kitchen rear screen door, in nothing but his boxers, flooded her mind. The bewildered shock and hurt in his eyes should have been everything she had wanted to see. Monica had thought of nothing else but seeing an image of Chandler, defenestrated and utterly humiliated, for exactly a year. That image from tonight had been her motivator to not eat that extra slice of pie, to go those extra five minutes on the treadmill.
Taking revenge was supposed to make you feel good, right? Not…. satisfaction tainted by stabs of…. guilt….
She tried to bat these feelings that resembled something similar to remorse away by telling herself she had shown mercy in one respect: she had prepared and left him a pan of her famous mac and cheese out on the back porch. The rationalization only made her feel worse – it wasn't as though Chandler was a dog, and yet even in that one small act of kindness, she had treated him like one. Even just the act of preparing and serving him mac and cheese would indicate that she, on some level, felt some sort of guilt, even….. regret for the trick she had pulled on him.
Ross had to have told their parents what was going on, for more than once during dinner, her mother and then her father had wandered back into the kitchen to speak with Chandler, asking him what had happened. If he wanted to come inside. Both Judy and Jack came back with the same answer: Chandler was apparently perfectly content risking hypothermia from November's wind chill, sitting in his boxers while scarfing down mac and cheese.
"Apparently, he wants to join a nudist colony…" Jack had muttered to Rachel at his left upon returning to the table, his eyes flashing with unease. To which Rachel had then attempted to implore Monica for details, using nothing but her eyes, gleaming and yearning for all the juicy gossip. Monica had refused to budge, not even to accompany Rachel to "use the restroom"; the odd jumble in her belly had left her not feeling very hungry, let alone harboring any desire to revel in her prank with her co-conspirator. Judy had appeared as though she wanted to get her smelling salts, upon hearing Chandler's explanation for not wanting to eat at the table like a normal person.
A ludicrous explanation, if Monica had ever heard one. Which begged the question: why on earth would the man cover for her?
Glancing up, Monica gazed at her window at the moonlit night… and gasped.
She nearly screamed, in fact, at the sight of a nearly naked Chandler perched on the wide branch of the tree just outside her bedroom window.
She had just been about to take off her dress too, and change into pajamas for the night.
Fuming, Monica stomped over to the window and threw up the sash. "What are you doing?!" she hissed. "Get out of here, you…. peeping Tom!"
Chandler cast his eyes down and away from her. He was scrunched up in a ball, balanced rather precariously on the branch of this tree. "Sorry. I…. didn't know this was your room. I'll…. I can turn my back, if you…. need some privacy…."
Monica faltered. "…. I thought you wouldn't be outside by now."
Chandler shrugged. "It took forever for Rachel to leave. Even longer for Ross to go to bed. Your parents are still downstairs talking, and I didn't exactly fancy flashing either of them."
Monica frowned. "So, what, you're gonna stay out here all night?"
Chandler grinned weakly; it came off as more of a grimace with how his teeth were chattering.
Monica huffed. She hated how he was so…. noble! She thought back again to how he had covered for her, when Ross had walked in on them in what could have been construed as a very compromising position. "It's the end of November! You're going to catch your death of cold out here!"
Chandler scowled at her, though it was slight. "I'd be warmer if I had my clothes! The shoulder pads in that jacket were lined!" He sniffed.
Monica felt that twinge of guilt again.
"Besides, hot air rises – that's what we learned in science class. So, the more height advantage, the warmer I'll…."
"Why did you do that?"
"What?" Chandler cocked his head to study her.
Monica flushed and glanced down, mumbling. "Cover for me when Ross walked in."
Chandler shrugged. "I didn't want to get you in trouble."
Drat. Now, she just felt even worse. Biting her lip, she stood aside from the window, revealing how his clothes were strewn haphazardly on her bed.
"Well…. for what it's worth…. maybe….. maybe you'd better come back in…." She mumbled out the request gently.
Chandler gratefully edged out along the tree branch and traversed cat-like through her window. Glancing about furtively, Monica closed it behind him.
She turned back to find a quivering Chandler mid-way through eagerly pulling on his pants. In the moonlight, their eyes met. When they did, Chandler sighed and dropped his trousers, so that they comically pooled at his ankles.
"Can I ask you something?"
Monica sighed. "You may as well after that set-up."
"…. Why'd you do it? I mean, what did I ever do to you?"
Monica blinked, feeling a surge of anger course through her. As if he didn't know! If he was doing this just to make fun of her, she….. she would…..
But then she searched his eyes for any signs of duplicitousness, or insincerity, and was startled when she found none of either. Instead, as she peered into his eyes, all she saw was confusion and genuine hurt.
"You really don't know?"
Chandler shrugged again. "Should I?"
"You don't remember anything from last year," Monica repeated dubiously. It was more a statement than a question. "You don't remember calling me fat?"
She watched how Chandler's eyes widened in the moonlight, before immediately flashing with a mix of bemusement and remorse. A kind of stupefied, thoughtful smile came over his face. "That's what this is about?"
Monica scowled and folded her arms petulantly. "Yes!" she pouted. "I overheard you and Ross in the kitchen, and you said you didn't want to spend the night with your best friend's fat sister!" Her bottom lip pouted. "…. You really hurt me, Chandler."
Chandler was pondering her, his expression unreadable. Glancing behind him, he shuffled backward into a small chair in the corner, the movement made all the more comical by the bell-bottoms still pooled at his ankles.
"Well, I'm…. I'm sorry…." He stuttered, and Monica was struck by how embarrassed he sounded. "For the record, I didn't know you were there. If I had, I never would have said it."
Monica squirmed, folded into herself. She glanced at him shyly, then just as quickly away. "…. You still would have thought it."
"Maybe," Chandler conceded the point. Monica was struck by his honesty, in that moment. There was a long pause. "I…. I bet lots of people at school teased you and called you fat. Why choose to go after me? Not that I didn't deserve it," he amended. Another beat, and then: "Unless, of course, you slimming down is one big revenge plot to go after anyone who's ever made fun of you."
Monica's lips twisted into a smile, in spite of herself. "You're right. Being called fat wasn't anything new. Hell, I was used to that." She hugged herself again. "I guess… it hurt more, coming from you."
"Why?" Chandler blinked, baffled. "Last year, you didn't know me! We'd only just met!"
Monica flushed pink, and hoped with all her heart that the darkness concealed it. "Am I really going to have to say it….?"
"Say wh-?"
"I liked you! OK? I…. I had a crush on you from the first moment I saw you, and it stung that you couldn't see past…. all of this…." She gestured down at her lithe, svelte body. Seeing his eyes rove over her in clear appraisal, she was caught between wanting to smirk and wanting to fume. "See? You still can't see past my body, even when it's desirable!"
Chandler swallowed, and glanced down between his knees to where his trousers were still pooled by his ankles.
"I…. I don't really know what to say…" he scratched at the back of his neck awkwardly.
Monica felt her heart start to sink. Was he not really attracted to her at all? Fat or thin? Had she been misreading the way he had looked at her all this evening? She couldn't have! Could she?
There was silence for a time.
"Can I ask you something?" Chandler blurted out. A beat, and then he pursed his lips bashfully. "I already said that, didn't I?"
Monica couldn't help but giggle, even as she nodded.
"…. Do you still like me? Even after…. I was so hurtful to you….?"
Monica smirked. "Well…." she pretended to hem and haw. "…. Maybe one day, you can get there. But I'll make you work for it."
Chandler smiled. "If you were willing to work for a year to shed all that weight, and all over just one terrible comment from your crush…. I guess I can work just as hard to get back into your good graces."
Monica staggered back a step, struck dumb. "I…. I never said I lost all my weight because of you!"
"You didn't have to," Chandler chuckled. "It's written all over your face! Words, good or bad, can be a powerful motivator." He grimaced hopefully. "I really am sorry, Monica. …. Call it even?"
"OK!" she chirped. A beat, and then they high-fived awkwardly.
Monica watched as Chandler almost cheerfully began to pull up his white bell-bottoms. She dared to appraise his chest appreciatively when she was sure he was too busy pulling on his red sweater, then the ice-cream suit jacket, to catch her staring.
"OK: I ask the questions now."
"Go ahead," Chandler, now fully dressed, ceded the floor to her, reclining back in the corner chair.
Monica wrung her hands, bit her lip, then whispered, unusually vulnerable:
"…. Would you still be staring at me, the way you did tonight, if I was still fat?"
Chandler was quiet for a moment. At last, he shrugged.
"I don't know. I wish I could be more honest with you, but since we're only just getting to know each other, I really can't be sure." He paused, steepling his fingers in front of his lips, deep in thought. "I mean, every person has a type, right? At the same time, beauty is in the eyes of the beholder." He studied her, his eyes making a blatant sweep of her figure. "I mean…. the little we interacted last year, when you were…. larger, I was able to learn that you're funny. You're clearly smart, to have been able to bamboozle me the way you did tonight." (Monica flushed pink). "Plus, I know you cook really well – I still have dreams about your mac and cheese." A beat, and he chuckled. "Not erotic dreams, mind you – that came out wrong. And possibly a little sexist – it's not as though women are only good for cooking and cleaning…"
"Chandler…." Monica laughed. "I get it." She lifted her eyes to his shyly. "So….. you're saying that would be your type: someone who's funny and smart and cooks really well?"
Chandler grinned boyishly, shrugging his shoulders again. "I'm sure, if given a little more time, I could come up with more. Like….. someone who has a good heart." He gestured to her. "That seems like you: you could have let me freeze to death out there tonight. And I know you care about your brother a lot – Ross goes on and on about you to me." He leaned back in the chair. "Plus, falling in love with anybody has to involve some physical attraction. My ideal girl would have to be very easy on the eyes…." (He made a sweep of her body again. Monica felt heat flood down to her chest). "I've always had a thing for dark-haired girls…. With blue eyes…." His voice trailed off, as if he was in a trance. After a moment, the spell was broken, and he cleared his throat. "But that's just me."
Monica gulped. "What about body type?" she murmured quietly. He still hadn't answered her question from before.
Chandler smirked, like he knew exactly why she was asking such a specific question. This caused Monica to only blush harder. "I guess that, if she had everything I just said above, I wouldn't care if she was thin, ballooning out, or two inches tall: I'd love her."
Monica grinned bashfully.
"So: what about you?"
"What - What about me?" Monica stuttered.
"What's your type?" At her gawking, Chandler smirked. "C'mon, Geller – it's only fair. I laid out all my dirty laundry."
"Those were preferences," Monica corrected. "Nothing necessarily dirty about them."
"True. So what are yours? Preferences. For your ideal guy." At her stumped look, he chuckled. "Don't tell me you haven't given thought to this. I mean, you've had a boyfriend before, right?"
"What makes you think I've had a boyfriend?" Monica frowned.
"Because," Chandler stared at her, quite intently. "Who wouldn't want you….?"
Silence. Monica finally swallowed hard. "I, um…."
"OK: let's start small. Does he have to have muscles?"
Biting her lip to hide a smile, Monica shook her head No.
"Does he have to…. be the provider?"
"No!" Monica stated, quickly and quite vehemently. "I mean, he could work if he wanted to, but he'd have to be fine with me working too. Both of my parents work, and they were still able to be present as parents for Ross and me."
"And that's what you would be looking for in a partner?" Chandler queried. "Someone who would be a good parent?" There seemed to be something leery in his tone.
"Yes," Monica nodded eagerly. "Other than being a chef, my dearest wish is to get married and have a family."
Chandler glanced down, fiddling with the corner of his ice-cream suit jacket. "I don't know if I'd meet that criteria then."
Monica's eyelids fluttered rapidly, her heart going out to him. "…. Why….?" she asked curiously. "Do you not want children? Or do you not think you'd be a good parent?"
Chandler shook his head. "I'm pretty ambivalent about children, to be honest. I suppose, if my partner wanted them, I would give them to her, to make her happy. But I don't know how good of a father I'd be…." He sighed. "I'm…. I'm the product of two people who probably had no business being parents in the first place. It's not necessarily their fault; they're just two people who together made each other really unhappy. My mom and dad have been divorced for some time – they actually told me they were splitting on Thanksgiving. I was 9."
Monica stared. "I'm sorry…." She pondered him. "That's why you don't like Thanksgiving…. isn't it?"
"Yeah, well," Chandler huffed. "When you've tasted turkey coming back up as well as going down, you kind of lose your taste for it altogether."
Monica held up a hand to hide her smile. "That sounds terrible."
Chandler glanced away, gazing out the window. "So: what else?"
Monica bit her lip. "Well….. I'd want someone who would be totally committed to me. Love me forever. I could never stand to get divorced to someone. Even if I had to for my own sanity and happiness, I wouldn't survive it."
Chandler slumped back in his chair. "Another strike against me, then."
"Who said I was talking about you?" Monica smirked, amused.
"Do you see any other boys sitting up in your room in the middle of the night?" Chandler threw his arms out, snorting sarcastically.
Monica laughed.
Chandler grew quiet. He was finding the carpet very interesting. "I would want to be committed to somebody forever…." He admitted softly. "….. but there's always been a part of me that is afraid of committing."
"…. Why….?"
"My parents' divorce emotionally fucked me up, that's why." Chandler started gesticulating in the passion of his speech. "I reject anyone who is crazy enough to go out with me, usually for some arbitrary reason, and then I bitch about the fact that there aren't any great women out there!"
Monica softened. Drifting over to him, she knelt in front of his chair, taking his hands in hers. "I think that's only human, Chandler. If you're afraid of becoming too close to a person, in a way, that means you care…. from a certain point of view." When he lifted his head to her, blinking, Monica shrugged. "You care enough that you want to get it right. You want to find the right person…. and you will. I know it. You have to find the partner who complements you the best. Now for me….. that would have to be someone who isn't fazed by how I can take myself too seriously. I can be obsessive-compulsive and fastidious. I would want someone who is witty…" She smirked, "…. Maybe even in a sarcastic kind of way…. to let me know that I can loosen up…"
Chandler swallowed. "I'd want someone who is willing to work with me on my commitment issues. Who believes enough in me to stick around when I become insecure or get scared."
Monica peered at him, nodding slowly, thoughtfully. There was a long pause in which the pair simply gazed into each other's eyes, as if they were looking into the other person's soul.
"…. Chandler….?" Monica at last. "…. I just want to try something. Is that OK?"
Chandler nodded warily. "I guess that would depend what it is."
Gently, Monica framed Chandler's face with her hands. Tilting it back just slightly, her eyelids grew heavy, her sapphire eyes sparkling in the moonlight as, leaning in, she tenderly brushed her lips along his.
After what seemed like several long moments, Chandler and Monica sensuously broke apart.
Monica made a kind of twittering sound, her smile bright. "I've never done that before – Mmmmm….." She let out a startled moan as Chandler's one palm sank into her dark locks and he pulled her face down to his, returning her kiss passionately. Breathing in deeply through her nose, Monica closed her eyes and, letting out a curious hum, began to kiss him back.
The kiss deepened, and Monica rose off her knees, staggering back. Chandler stood from his seat and followed her, not allowing their lips to separate. Monica did allow her lips to part, though, willingly under his and she groaned with lust as Chandler's tongue slipped into her mouth and touched hers.
Violent shivers overtook her body and, with limbs winding about each other, Chandler and Monica clasped each other close and the kiss escalated in its passion until they were engrossed in a full-on make out session. They really got involved.
The kiss now flowed in desperate, frenetic pecks, and Monica let her arms loop about Chandler's neck, pushing on his shoulders so that she nudged his suit jacket off and let it drop the floor. Chandler's lips now left hers, and her whine at the loss of contact quickly turned into a whimper as his lips blazed a trail down her face and into the soft curve of her neck.
"What…. what is this….?" she panted, dazed.
Chandler didn't answer except by way of a grunt. Leaning into him with a sigh, Monica shrugged her shoulders so that she shucked the top half of her dress off, letting the fabric fall away at the bodice. Chandler choked into her lips from where he was fiercely kissing her again, breaking the lip-lock abruptly with a chuckle.
"I feel like we've been here before…."
Monica smirked and curled a palm around his neck. "Shut up and kiss me…..!" she growled.
Kissing furiously, her hands trembled as she worked to clench the edge of Chandler's sweater in her fist and manipulate it over his head. He helped her as best he could, digging at his own belt until his bell bottoms plunged to his ankles and he stepped out of them.
"Maybe I shouldn't have dressed too fast…." he quipped, and Monica let out a throaty chuckle.
"Perhaps you shouldn't have," she agreed, cold as he had been. Besides…. There were other things besides clothes that could warm a person up…..
Gently, Monica guided Chandler's hands, showing him where she liked to be touched. And also to help her out of the rest of her dress. The fabric was eventually pushed past her hips, so that it pooled with a rustle at her feet, and she kicked it away, leading Chandler as she backed up towards a place on the bed. Clasping her close and kissing her deeply, Chandler tenderly dipped her, bending her backwards over the bed until the mattress caught her.
Monica rolled onto her back, bringing Chandler with her until he was on top of her. Breaking their kiss sultrily, the couple gazed into each other's eyes, almost in shock.
Wordlessly, Monica spread her legs for him. Chandler was more focused on her bare breasts, and the fact that she had not been wearing a bra at all the entire evening. Though, he already knew that, from the fiasco earlier.
Monica now gulped and deliberately lifted her hips, shimmying out of her panties and pushing them down past her knees, the fabric going taut as she opened her legs as far as they would go.
Chandler didn't need to be told twice. He mounted her and mated with her.
They had sex.
No – something better: they made love.
Clasping him close, Monica purred and moaned loudly with her lover's every thrust. She mewled as he face-planted into her breasts, kissing and suckling on her nipples. He seemed quite fascinated by her tits, which had now hardened to painful tenderness under his attentiveness. The heat that was building in her core was altogether new. Though she was virgin and thus had no one to compare him to, she had to imagine sex couldn't possibly feel any better than this.
She gave Chandler her flower.
He made her cum, the force of her orgasm so dizzying that she slapped a palm out onto her windowpane, her fingers curling before they dreamily fell away from the fogged-up glass, leaving behind a dewey print.
And when Chandler finally ejaculated with a shudder inside of her, murmuring breathlessly into her neck that he loved her, Monica finally understood what all the fuss was about concerning intercourse. About falling in love…..
She drew back to gaze at him in the ethereal light from the moon, tears in her eyes.
Chandler smiled down at her, the look in his impossibly blue orbs causing her cunt to clinch.
"…. I love you, Monica…."
Monica swallowed hard. "…. I love you too, Chandler….."
They spent hours upon hours that night making love. Again and again, Monica let him have her flower.
It was difficult to part the next morning. Ross and Chandler had to drive back to college. Monica ignored how her brother seemed bemused by how she now hugged his best friend around the neck.
"There's a payphone on the edge of campus," Chandler murmured softly into her hair. "I'll call you from there every night – I promise…."
Monica sniffled, drawing back with tears in her eyes. It astonished her how, after only a single night, she had gone from slightly hating him to needing him. …. Loving him. "When?"
"After dinner? Ross and I are usually done at the dining commons around 6."
Monica bobbed her head through a nod. "Don't go broke if it's a collect call…."
Chandler smirked. "I'll burn through whatever cash I have to in order to hear your voice every night…" He laced his fingers through hers, the couple staring down at the ground between them. "How can I go back to school when I can't even make myself move from this spot?" He chuckled, a little ruefully. "If I could graduate tomorrow, I'd do it, just to spend every day and every night with you…."
Monica smiled wetly. Forgetting where she was, she started to lean in and kiss him… only to jerk, startled, as Ross honked the horn impatiently from where he was perched halfway out of the driver's seat.
"Coming!" Chandler cast over his shoulder. Sending Monica a cocksure smirk that made her knees weak, he took her face in his hands, tilted it back.
"Chandler!" she hissed, her eyes wide. "Ross…. My – my parents!" Though she was more concerned about what her brother would think.
Chandler smirked, seeming to know it. "Let him look….." He kissed her goodbye, long and lingering, and Monica damn near melted.
When they softly broke apart, Chandler turned away to see Ross gawping at him in stunned outrage.
"Dude!..."
Chandler smirked again and gave him a hapless shrug, moseying to the shotgun passenger side. Monica could feel how her parents were staring at her with bemused expressions, but she didn't care. She had eyes only for the cute college freshman grinning at her softly from the passenger seat.
Ross swung into the driver's seat, grumbling darkly and shooting Chandler a death glare, which the other man ignored. The pair started to back out of the driveway. Monica blew Chandler a kiss. 'I love you,' she mouthed, struck by how easily the words came to her.
Through the windshield, she saw how Chandler mouthed those three little words back, before Ross swung the car around and pulled away.
Monica kept her sights on the departing car until the last.
The very next night, the phone rang when it was already dark at the Geller house. Monica glanced up with a beaming smile: it was six on the dot, by their clock.
"I've got it, I've got it!" she warded off any other potential answerers as she lunged for the landline phone on the hook, knocking the receiver from its cradle. "Hello? Geller residence."
"…. Hey, beautiful girl…."
Monica bit her lip through a beaming smile. "Hey, sweetie…. Have a good day?"
"Oh, yeah, I just finished up in computer lab. Your brother and I had dinner."
"How did he take our little public display of affection yesterday?"
"Not well. He spent the entire drive to Columbia yelling at me. Lucky for us, I can never take Angry Ross seriously."
Monica giggled, wondering if her new boyfriend was putting on a show of bravado just for her. "Give it time. When Ross gets pissed, I've learned it's best to have a healthy dose of fear."
Chandler chuckled. "He's watching me right now. I think he's in line to talk to Carol just to get me off the phone faster. And I only have a handful of change as it is…."
"I can talk fast," Monica murmured. "So, how are classes? Gearing up for exams?"
"Electrical engineering is kicking my ass. You have to pass to continue in the CS degree…"
"You'll do well," Monica cooed, trying to lift his spirits. "I've always taken you to be smart."
She could almost feel his smile through the phone. "Not as smart as you, if I couldn't see just what your intentions were for me the other night…"
Monica smiled. "I'm sorry about that…."
"Don't be. Otherwise, we might never have….." She heard him clear his throat through the phone. "So, how are you? You're applying to culinary schools?"
"Yes," she bubbled. "It's all because of you, you know."
"Nice to know I've had a positive impact on somebody…"
Monica shook her head, smiling ruefully. "Chandler…." She softly chided. "You've always had a positive impact on me."
"Even with careless and discouraging words?"
She shook her head again. "You know I've forgiven you for that."
"So you did. And then some." She could almost feel him wiggling his eyebrows; were he standing in front of her, Monica would have whacked him. She could now hear what sounded like a scuffle through the other end of the phone, Chandler grunting.
"Sorry, sweetheart - Ross didn't take kindly to my facial expressions just then. So…. what programs are you looking at?"
"There's the Culinary Institute at Hyde Park…"
"Not bad, not bad…" Chandler murmured approvingly, pleased that she would be closer to him.
"Walnut Hill College's Restaurant School will have to be on the list – you know I wanna open my own restaurant someday…."
"Whatever makes you happy, darling."
"I'm also kinda intrigued by Escoffier."
"Oh, yeah? Where's that?"
"Boulder."
"Oh, don't go to Colorado, honey! You'll freeze your cute little ass off!"
More scuffling could be heard, followed by Chandler's raised voice ("Ross, STOP!"). "Sorry, honey – I gotta go. But I wanna hear all about what you're doing. Talk tomorrow night?"
"Can't wait," Monica hummed. A beat, then: "Chandler!"
"Yeah?"
"…. I love you…"
She could practically feel his smile warming her through the phone. "I know. I love you too, babe. Goodnight."
"Goodnight…." Hanging up the receiver, Monica practically floated up to her room in a lovestruck tizzy.
