Chapter 1: Midnight Mystery Lovemaking

Chandler gently nudged a drunken Rachel away from him. The blonde high-schooler didn't seem to have any fight in her to show even confusion that he was ending early the inebriated kiss she had planted on him. Instead, she slumped against him.

Chandler pried the red Solo cup that was tilting half at an angle towards the floor from Rachel's hand. Dipping his nose into it, he took an experimental sniff. Just as he'd suspected: someone had spiked her drink! He'd warned them. Rachel and Monica both.

Monica…. Suddenly panicked, Chandler's eyes darted around the room of the college mixer, but he couldn't spot the kid sister of his college roommate.

…. This was all Ross's fault. If the afro, girl-crazy geek hadn't been so obsessed with "working the room" (and not the way corporate executives do it), then he might have actually done his job as big brother/host and watched his guests, instead of leaving Chandler to do it for him!

Quickly, Chandler picked Rachel up. He was pleased with himself to find that he was strong enough to lift the unconscious girl. Ross was still nowhere in sight and frankly, Chandler didn't care where he was. Let his idiotic roommate go make out with Adrienne or Carol or whoever! Better still, let Ross see Chandler taking care of the girl who was apparently his, Ross's, dream girl!

Chandler carried Rachel back to his and Ross's dorm room. The poisoned Red solo cup dangled from his fingers under where Chandler was supporting Rachel's knees as he cradled her. As he left the party, Chandler felt himself jostled against Rick, a nice-house-nobody's-home frat boy who had insulted him and Monica earlier. Tipping the cup just a little bit further, he dumped the last of Rachel's drink all over Rick's saddles shoes and the liquor-encrusted linoleum. Shouts and howls of outrage went up, but in the darkness, neither Rick nor his clueless friends could identify the culprit as Chandler moved on.

He reached his and Ross's dorm room. Chandler had to brace Rachel into his shoulder, nearly cast her over it in a sort of firearm's lift just to get one arm free so he could rummage around in his pocket for his key. He unlocked the door and staggered in.

The backlight from the hallway cast a soft glow onto the pair of parallel beds. On the left, there was what looked like a pile of coats draped over his bed, which also held a sleeping Monica. To the right, Ross's bed stood empty. Chandler's teeth set on edge. It would appear that Ross would get his wish after all, in the deal he had earlier attempted to strike with Chandler – not that the two-timer, three-timer deserved it!

Chandler lugged Rachel onto Ross's bed. He carefully deposited her on her stomach, while keeping her head elevated yet turned to the side. It was never a good idea to lay a drunkenly unconscious person on their back, in case they might asphyxiate on their own vomit – their hall coordinator had drilled that into the frosh the first week.

Chandler slapped about for the wastebasket and brought it to the edge of Ross's bed, placing it directly below Rachel's mouth. That way, in case she awoke and had to vomit, it would go right in… hopefully. Even if it didn't, Chandler would gladly mop the floor of any bile mess. Better yet, he'd make Ross do it.

Satisfied, Chandler turned back to Monica. Listening closely, he could tell by how she was breathing evenly that she was asleep, but there was a hitch to the sound, a rattle, that he couldn't ignore.

Chandler drifted up to the bed. Even in the dim moonlight, he could make out the telltale splotches of tears on his pillow. She had cried herself to sleep.

Fear encasing his heart, Chandler lunged for the door, closed and locked it. If Monica had been drugged same as Rachel, then what if he had been too late to save her from someone – anyone – taking her back to the room and taking advantage of her?

Staring at the closed door, Chandler took a moment to think. Wait a minute: if a rapist had threatened Monica, why would the rapist – or how would a rapist know to – take the victim back to the dorm room where she was staying, rather than his own dorm room? Besides, Monica had a key to his and Ross's room – she could just as easily have come back alone and let herself in.

On the other hand, she could have been deceived into leading some assaulter back to the room and let him in.

Chandler worried his bottom lip. He was tempted to turn on the light, wake Monica up and question her about if she had returned to the dorm room alone. Her tears could be a response to being raped!

… Then again, it could just as easily be about what Rick Asher had said to her tonight at the mixer, when she had asked the externally handsome young man for a dance.

Chandler crept back up to his bed, feeling awkward. He had to know the truth, but he didn't want to reach it by waking Monica up.

Slowly, carefully, he gently placed his hands on Monica's calves, just below her knees, over her clothes. Carefully, he moved his palms up to her thighs, closer and closer to the apex of them. Before he got there (ironic it was, to think that this was the farthest he had ever gone with a girl, and she wasn't even awake for it), Chandler had what he thought was a deductive enough answer:

He couldn't feel any pools of vaginal blood or anything that might be encrusted semen on Monica's legs. That told him that, thankfully, it was unlikely an assault had occurred.

Gazing down at Monica's husky form, he also had to wonder how much Monica might have been affected by any roofies in her drink, even if she had been drugged. Chandler wasn't the greatest science student, but he had to figure that someone who carried greater weight might be able to better absorb toxins or alcohol in the bloodstream. It would have to take a lot of substances to knock Monica out the same as Rachel – a girl who was much skinnier, if not quite as petite.

Chandler stared down at the sleeping form of his best friend's kid sister, feeling terrible that this weekend visit had not gone as planned: a brother who pretty much ignored her in favor of her best friend, then abandoned the best friend too. College boys rejecting her, just because of her weight.

He thought back to all the girls that Ross had been kissing or chatting up tonight. The kiss that Rachel had thrown at him, Chandler, along with an attempted kiss from another girl who had witnessed the Rick Asher fiasco. How was Monica any less deserving of a kiss – drunken or not – at a college mixer? A time in your life that was meant to be explored (safely)? Chandler felt horrible that Monica would be denied those things just because of her weight, by people who couldn't see past her…. heaviness to recognize the beautiful person she was….

That was when it hit him: he didn't have to be one of those people. He could be a hero, for her. She had gone up to Rick Asher tonight clearly thinking he was cute (before he showed his true colors). She had been hoping for a dance. Perhaps even a kiss at the end.

Before he could second-guess himself or over-think it, Chandler slowly bent over Monica and brushed his lips against hers. He was surprised that he didn't have to work up the nerve to kiss her, and decided it was just as well: if he had needed to brace himself for kissing her, he'd be no better than the frat and sorority jerks who wouldn't have even entertained the thought of locking lips with this wonderful girl. More the fools them!

The moment their lips touched, Chandler felt as though lightning was arcing through his body. It started as a stirring in his chest, almost, a tingling, and it was enough to make him pull away with a gasp. At first, his thought was that they had shocked themselves with their kiss via static electricity, and he wanted to laugh, because that would be just like him, wouldn't it?

So he wasn't prepared for when, her eyes still closed, Monica tilted her chin back, her palm reaching up around his neck as she pulled her lips back down to his and kissed him back.

Now an electricity of a very different kind was flowing between them. Chandler found he didn't know what to do; his arms were rigid at his sides. The kiss turned passionate, deft, a skimming of lips not at all like the awkward bumping of teeth that he had experienced at the hands of Rachel when she had practically thrown herself at him. Chandler wondered if this belied some sort of technique on Monica's part, but at the moment, he was too distracted by the surprisingly wonderful kiss to wake her up and ask.

Unless… she was already awake. From the droop to her eyelids and the set of her lashes, Chandler actually couldn't tell whether she was still asleep or not. He waited to find a moment to extricate himself from the kiss without waking her or, even more calamitous, wake her up in fright at the realization that she wasn't dreaming and was, in fact, kissing someone in the darkness who, for all she knew, could be an intruder.

But then, Monica let out a quiet moan and her fingers curled around the base of Chandler's neck, her nails digging slightly into the skin and she pulled, so that Chandler pitched forward halfway onto the bed. He shivered as he felt Monica gather him into her arms and he had little choice but to let her lead as she tugged him the rest of the way onto his bed and he settled on top of her.

He wasn't straddling her, not quite, at least until Monica opened her legs. The motion of her spreading her legs corresponded with a pleasured sigh from her pink and plump mouth that flowed into his. The kiss was starting to make Chandler's head spin, and he even started to deepen it…..

If she was in sleep, it was a deep, dead one. He should wake her up. But then Chandler settled between Monica's thighs – powerful, buxom thighs that she now wrapped around his middle. Her free hand that was not at his neck now snaked around to grip his one buttocks and she lifted her hips up to his.

Chandler could feel his desire burgeoning against Monica's core – still clothed. He dared not do anything with his hands, put his hands on her.

Luckily, Monica bailed him out for trying.

Taking his one hand, Monica guided it gently to cup the swell of her voluptuous breast. Chandler let out a choking sound into their kiss, a choke that quickly turned into a groan as Monica taught him how to knead her there, fondle her nipples that had become pebbled and hard under her sweater. Chandler now used his free hand to cradle Monica's face, brush the dark, midnight tresses out of her eyes as he began to become an active participant in the kiss.

…. If she wasn't awake, then Monica had to be having the most vivid, lucid wet dream of anyone's life, and it almost made Chandler jealous.

Humming, purring, Monica now dropped the hand from Chandler's neck and slipped it between them, as she undid the button and zipper at his jeans. Chandler could feel her palm trembling as she freed him. He was almost on autopilot as he moved to slip Monica's sweatpants down towards her ankles; she lifted the small of her back and shimmied to help him.

The entire time, their lips did not separate. Though they did part as tongues now pushed through to grapple and dance.

Chandler was quivering with delight as he felt Monica guide him shyly to her entrance. Her eyes were still blissfully shut.

If he needed to wake her up, now would be the time to do it. Asleep while having sex (if that's what she was) was just as dicey as being drunk during the deed, and raised all kinds of consensual red flags. Yet, from the way she was taking control, Chandler had to wonder if Monica wasn't awake after all.

He felt his cock slide into her warmth and Chandler felt a whimper bubble up and then die a peaceful death in the back of his throat.

They made love to each other.

As Chandler and Monica mated, she had to take control and set the pace. Encourage him. Curling her hefty legs about Chandler's middle, it urged him on and he began to thrust. Still kissing languorously, Monica's moans of pleasure began to pitch:

"Hmmmm….. Mmmmmmm….. Huhhhhhh!... Uhhhhhhhh… Mmmmmmmhmmmmmm….."

Chandler grunted into the soft curve of Monica's neck and began to rock against her faster. She jerked her pelvis back, matching him thrust for thrust. It only vaguely occurred to Chandler that he was having passionate sex with his best friend's baby sister, while her best friend was sleeping off a drinking binge only feet away. When Ross could return and walk in on them making love at any moment.

Monica's melodious cries were now pitching. Suddenly, the sounds choked off and Chandler felt Monica's nails fist into the skin of his glutes. Her back arched. Her toes curled.

She came against him. The sight and feel of her arriving at blissful orgasm, the feel of her core muscles tightening about him, trapping him, milking him made Chandler cum inside of her.

The creak to the bedsprings slowed. Chandler felt Monica's embrace encircle him. She was murmuring something, almost singing on the edge of her breath, and then she slumped against him and lay still.

Carefully, Chandler pulled out like a gentleman. He was noodly, and only barely had the strength to leave his bed and Monica's arms. Pulling his pants back on, he staggered over to the futon, curled up onto it and fell asleep.

At some point during the night, Rachel Green awoke to the sound of moaning.

Tilting her head, her eyes failing to adjust to the dim light, she squinted as she saw what looked like two people having sex on the bed opposite. From the amorphous shape of the person beneath, it appeared that one of the sexual partners was Monica.

A hung-over, dazed smile came over Rachel's lips. Good on Monica for landing a college boy! What wonders never cease!...

Suddenly, Rachel curled over the bed and hurled. Having thus expectorated, she curled onto her side and fell back to sleep. Between the bedspring creaks, the grunts and the pleasured moans, neither of the copulating couple in the other bed heard her.