Cut to the Quickie

Monica was worried that the week-long marathon of the most incredible, satisfying, and knee-knocking sex she has ever had was going to spoil her for the days and weeks ahead. She was certain that reaching those same heights of pleasure that she had achieved during their first week back from London would be nearly impossible now that they were no longer going to have free run of her apartment. She knew it was inevitable; once Rachel returned home from Greece, she and Chandler simply would not have as many opportunities to sleep together. No matter how hard she tried to come up with a plan or a schedule, she just couldn't see a way where they would be able to have nearly as much sex as they had over the last seven days. She was surprised at how depressing that realization was.

Rachel returning meant no more sex on the couch. No more sex in the kitchen. No more sharing long, hot showers. No more steamy, intimate baths. No more wild moans and toe-curling screams in the early morning hours. No more feeding each other breakfast in bed as they recover from a night of passion. No more causing his pupils to dilate and his breath to shorten as he opened the door to her apartment and gasped in surprise as she greeted him wearing one of her more revealing selections from her collection of lingerie. No more spending hours together, undisturbed, as they enjoyed each other in a way that felt new and exciting, yet also comfortable and familiar.

She thought she had prepared herself for what was to come, yet it still proved to be a devastating proposition once Monday morning finally arrived. The notion of Rachel back home with only a thin wall to separate them filled her with fearful trepidation. She wondered if she could really stay quiet enough so that Rachel would never detect what was happening in her bedroom at night. Or how, with everything back to normal, and everyone home, it meant that her apartment would be filled as her friends filed into her place for breakfast, lunch and dinner every day. It would make finding time alone with Chandler during the afternoon much more difficult to navigate.

When Monday did finally arrive, she tried to distract herself from dwelling on it by preparing the apartment for the usual suspects that morning. She had Chandler go out and pick up bagels, which was more about removing temptation. She needed him out of her sight so that she would not be enticed to try and squeeze in one last, illicit romp before breakfast. She took time to clean the apartment, hoping to remove any trace that might clue someone in to all the sex that had happened there the previous night. She then made a Greek yogurt cream cheese that she thought would be appropriate for Rachel's homecoming. She sliced up some cucumbers, bell peppers and tomatoes as toppings for the spread and waited patiently for her guests to arrive. She made sure to dress down and not appear like someone who was trying to look sexy. She knew that if she and Chandler acted normal, and didn't do anything stupid, they would be in the clear.

But of course, they did something stupid.

They kissed.

It was wonderful, but stupid.

They closed their eyes and they kissed in front of Phoebe and Rachel.

If they didn't immediately pull back in horror at the realization of the precarious position they put themselves in, she would have been able to take a moment and savor it. She would have let her fingers dance on her lips as he left and smiled at how different that kiss was compared to all the other kisses they had shared since they returned from London. It was not one of their ravenous kisses filled with frenetic sexual energy as they hurried to strip each other's clothes off. It also wasn't the kiss of two people, sweaty and spent, who still needed to taste each other once more before they let their bodies separate. Instead, it was the soft, sweet and tender kiss between two friends who were discovering how much they cared about each other. It was kiss between a couple of lovers who were starting to realize that this thing between them was more than just a torrid affair. It was a kiss that signified how things were changing between them. Changing for the better.

She would have recognized all of this if the apartment were empty today and she could be alone with her thoughts. She would have had time to figure out what that kiss meant, if Rachel and Phoebe had not spent the next hour discussing Chandler's off-putting goodbye. Her mind would have been preoccupied all day with thoughts of that kiss, but instead, her mind was overrun by Rachel, who wanted to talk late into the night about London, Ross, Emily and all of her bad decisions over the past year.

It seemed, rather than allowing that moment between her and Chandler to linger with her all day, she was consumed with frustration at having all her initial fears come true. With everyone back home and things getting back to normal, she had no time. No time to think. No time for herself. No time for Chandler. And as day one came to a close, just like she had assumed, she had no times for sex.

The next day wasn't much better, although initially, it appeared like everything was falling into place. Her plan hatched when everyone met at Central Perk for lunch and they discussed having dinner together. She was able to get out of it by telling everyone she had to work. Chandler played his part perfectly when he complained about having to stay late at the office, even though he was actually going to leave early so the two of them could meet up for a few hours in the late afternoon. Ross was not going to be around tonight, as he was still too preoccupied with his plans to reconcile with Emily to enjoy dinner with his friends. That just left Joey, Phoebe and Rachel; which was perfect. Rachel had hours upon hours of complaining to do and Joey always ordered two dinners on Tuesdays, which is what he thought the saying "two for Tuesday" was all about.

With everyone gone, and seemingly out of their hair for at least a few hours, they would have the apartment to themselves again. They would have more than enough time to make up for Monday. Monica even made sure to wear the same dress she had on that afternoon as she had caught Chandler stealing glances at her during lunch. She took notice at how his gaze would glide up her legs and stop at her hips. She knew by the way Chandler's eyes kept roaming over her body that afternoon, that if he saw her tonight, still in it, it would drive him wild.

And she knew she was right as she could tell how turned on he was the minute he entered her apartment and closed the door behind him. He paused as his eyes bathed her with ravenous lust. His breath hitched and he started to flash her that same sexy smile she rediscovered in London. A smile she used to know he had, but let it hide in the haze of the fog that was their friendship. Now that she could see it clearly once again, she had to have him.

She practically raced across the room to meet his lips. She was much too overcome with anticipation to be angry about him being late. And she desperately wanted to be angry with him. She wanted to feel something other than passion, just so she could trick herself into believing that she had not yet surrendered all of her control to this fire that was growing between them. Yet, even though he left her waiting there wondering where he was, without even a phone call, she could not be annoyed. Instead, she trembled with nervous, wanting impatience for his arrival. For his touch.

How could she be mad when all she wanted was for him to burst through that door, grab her, and kiss her roughly. All she could imagine was him, pushing her down on the couch, because the bedroom would be much too far for them to travel before they gave into their carnal impulses. She knew once he arrived, they would never reach that bedroom door before they combusted under the heat of their passion.

Then, as if simply to punish her for her foresight into the difficulties she and Chandler would face in hiding this part of themselves from their friends, the door swung open wide. Before she knew what was happening, Chandler was making his way out of the apartment, one pair of lips at a time.

By the time he returned later that evening, everyone had made themselves comfortable, entrenching themselves in the apartment and making the prospects of a night of passion bleak. She felt like some modern-day Tantalus; there he would be, within reach for the rest of the night, yet she could not snatch him up and she was unable to quench her primal hunger.

The rest of the week had proven to be equally disastrous. Chandler worked late, Rachel had her date, Ross had his box of rose petals, Phoebe had her pregnancy mood swings, Monica actually had to do laundry. It seemed., that no matter how well she tried to plan time for them, nothing was going to work out. They simply could not get a minute alone.

Monica got so desperate, that she found herself dressing up even though all they were doing was sitting around the coffee house. But she knew he would be there next to her. She knew that if she wore just the right top, and pulled her hair up off of her shoulders, exposing her neck to him, he would be overcome with his own desire for her. It was a dangerous game she played as they hoped and prayed for just one night this week without the drama that swirled around their friends to keep them from each other. She was beginning to think they were doomed and this secret affair would either have to end, or become public much quicker that they would ever have wanted.

Then, like an epiphany, everything came into focus for her. It happened when everyone rushed downstairs to get Phoebe to the hospital, leaving her and Chandler behind in the hallway outside her door. As they crashed their lips against each other, her desire for him hit a crescendo. It didn't matter what joke he made or how annoyed she could be at his clueless behavior, she had to have him. Right then and there.

Before she knew it, she was dragging him back into her apartment. He protested slightly, telling her that the others would be suspicious if they were gone too long, but she didn't care. She needed him. Furthermore, she was ready for him in a way she had not foreseen. Before she could even explain to him what she wanted, her pants were already off and she was enticing him to join her on the kitchen table.

It was so strange to her because Monica normally did not like quickies. The had an air of haphazard disorder about them. Both people fumbling to get just undressed enough to have access to each other as they allow themselves a small measure of pleasure. Yet, somehow, this was different. Maybe it was having to go almost a week without being able to feel Chandler inside her, maybe it was because, in this moment, he seemed to relinquish complete control to her, or maybe it was just that he was that damn good. But just like they reinvented their relationship after that night in London, it seemed, the two of them had also reinvented sex.

And that was when she realized what this entire week of anticipation of this moment was. They were practicing some new kind of foreplay where the only contact they could have with each other were incidental, secret touches. His hand brushing against her as he stretched his arm behind her on the couch. Her palm on his knee as she gently patted him when he made a joke or a comment. Stolen glances. Knowing smiles. Lingering touches. Little things to heighten the suspense and drive them crazy with desire.

This was what they had to be now. They had to tease each other. They had to be sneaky. They had to steal these tiny moments together when no one else was around. They had to find small, private spaces to occupy. Just the thought of it made everything better. Made her weak with need. She quickly spun around and presented herself to him and it felt just as amazing at it had before. They no longer needed hours of sex to reach the same levels of ecstasy that they had reached in London, or here in her apartment last week. Just being around each other, knowing what they were doing behind everyone else's back, was arousing enough. It would make these quick, moments of savage passion punctuate their sexual chemistry in a way that made everything much more potent.

As she felt herself letting loose with her own grunts and moans, she knew they had finally found their rhythm. Not only in this moment of passion on her kitchen table, but for how their secret relationship would be going forward. And she knew, it was going to be amazing.

A/N _ Okay, so now I am really messing things up.

After re-working TOW The Week After London, I realized, that I did not really do enough in this story to flesh out those first few weeks of their relationship before Joey figures out what is going on. Being only my second story, I think I was afraid to write too much because I didn't think I really had a good feel for all the characters and looking back, I don't think I really caught on until "Deskcapades".

So, in addition to cleaning up the existing chapters in this story, I am going to add some new chapters as well. TOW All the Kissing is a perfect place to start since it is where I ended the last story and since it obviously takes place over several days. It gives me an opportunity to write two chapters before we even get to the hospital; this one from Monica's POV and the next one from Chandler's (which will pretty much take place over the same couple of days that this chapter does).

Basically, I am going to build up to "Hospital Protocol" with a few chapters giving some more depth and exploring some other character building moments. Hopefully this doesn't get too confusing, and if you read as I update, it'll all make sense.