Finally he had a girlfriend again. It felt so good. Screw that. It felt amazing, awesome, it was the best feeling in the world. He had never realized until now just how much he had wanted it before, longed for it in fact, dreamed about it even.

True, this time it was a little different. He had never had to keep it secret before. From his very first girlfriend on he had always carried his heart on his sleeve, run around telling everybody about it, practically shouting it from the rooftops. Even with Janice. Especially the second time they had tried, when he had consciously and fully determined made an effort to commit to her, shut out all her annoying habits and traits and firmly concentrated on making their relationship work. He was very glad that it hadn't worked out, but for a while they had really succeeded – so much that it had even Joey quite worried. And it had felt great while it lasted, had made him feel so safe and content. And confident too, so much in fact that he wanted nothing more than to show off to people, rub their noses in his happiness, boast and gloat all day long. It was the best feeling in the world.

He couldn't do that with Monica however. Not only because their – was it really a relationship already? – was still secret, but also because it still seemed to be in some kind of test phase. He still wasn't sure, couldn't be really convinced that he was good enough for her, that he came up to her standards, that he really was everything she needed. He still felt that one false word, one wrong step, one screw-up too many could destroy everything. And leave him with nothing, or even less than nothing – he'd be so much worse off than before. She was so unbelievably hot, pretty much everything he had ever wanted, that the prospect of having to start over was too much to even contemplate. It had been hard even before her, how could he ever hope to find someone as hot and passionate after her? Would he even want to? He had always considered himself to be a late starter. It had taken him twenty-three years to lose his virginity and still six more until he felt he could pass himself off as a reasonably decent lover. Now that he was thirty, it was bound to get harder still. It would be far easier for her to find someone new than for him, he was sure about that. And far easier for her to get over him than for him to really let go of her. If it should ever come to that.

And did all that mean that he loved her? A year ago he would have said yes he did, would have been quite sure about it too, no doubts whatsoever. Like when he had been so sure that he loved Kathy when he had in fact only talked himself into it, had let his frustration about their situation escalate out of proportion, and it had ended with him putting her on a pedestal, idealizing her, and blinding himself to all the things that didn't conform with that dream image of her. He had convinced himself that she would be perfect for him if only he could have her, never realizing that he was more in love with the romantic image of the two of them sacrificing their love for friendship. That he had shared all his feelings with the others – except of course Joey when the best way to handle it should have been the exact opposite – had made things so much worse. The appallingly swift and easy way their relationship had folded like a house of cards at the first bump in the road had taught him to be more careful with his declarations of feelings that were in fact unfounded, had no solid basis other than illusions and dreams. And so while he did care for Monica deeply, wanted to be with her always and to make her happy, always desired her more than anything else, he still kept hesitating to label all those feelings as love. Not yet, that was, it was still too soon. What they had was still so fragile, so easy to damage. There would be time enough for that later. If this really worked out. They had come so far already with taking it one step at a time, hesitating and groping in the dark for the next foothold, occasionally stumbling on the way. But it needed a lot more work still.

Meanwhile he was still proud. Oh dear god, so proud and so enormously happy about what they had achieved. And thoroughly charmed with the thrill of it all, the fun they had fooling the others, conducting their affair right there under their noses without any of them getting wise to them. It wasn't easy, but somehow the problems, the precarious situations they often found themselves in, the need to wait for a chance to meet only added to the excitement, made the whole thing even more precious and valuable. And yes, addictive. So much that he could no longer imagine what it would be like if it all was revealed and out in the open and they could be … normal again. A normal couple, being together in the eyes of everyone, doing normal couply things, living a real life instead of a dream – that was what he couldn't quite imagine for them. At least not yet. It was too soon. They had been together for almost a month now. Tomorrow it would be exactly four weeks since Monica had come to his room in London and they had started doing it, and on the following Sunday it would be four weeks that they had been doing it in New York, still on London Time. Not enough to get careless, but hey, far more than enough for him to be absurdly, madly, wildly, over the top, exhilaratingly happy about it. Four weeks, they had made it through four weeks already without screwing up – well, not quite without screwing up, but still without any serious damage. It made him want to sing. And dance of course.

Standing in the subway station waiting for his train Chandler inadvertently started to tap his feet, closing his eyes and grinning goofily. Yeah, life was really good right now. Swell in fact. Never mind that it was Mid-October, already getting dark quite early in the evening, and that it had been a long frustrating day in the office, with rain on top of it too. He would meet the others in the Perk – including Monica, since she was working the dayshift at the restaurant this week and moreover would have the weekend free – for coffee and a bagel or muffin, they would talk and later that night they would meet at either her place or his, depending on the situation. Then they would plan the weekend or at least the next meeting. And have sex of course. Lots and lots and lots of it. And spend a good part of the night together, talking, snuggling, or just sleeping until the alarm went. Then wait for the next meeting. And so on. By now they had established a tentative routine that seemed to work pretty well. So far at least.

When the train rumbled in Chandler snapped out of his daydream and got on board, ignoring the two teenagers that made faces at him and imitated his dance steps. He was too happy to be self-conscious or even mortified.

From the subway station he went directly to Central Perk, taking his briefcase along in case he had to plead work at home in order to get out of going to a movie or whatever else the gang had thought up. He and Monica had pretty much perfected their range of excuses by now. If they couldn't do laundry – their favorite - it would be work at home for him, or lunch with a visiting customer or executive from one of the branch offices of his company. Or going to the dentist and/or the doctor's for a check-up or even to the gym – that bothersome membership he hadn't been able to get out of now finally turned out to be good for something. Or he could always pretend that he had to buy something, like the new mattress he had got two weeks ago, actually together with Monica though none of the others knew about that. Buying that had really been a lot of fun, and the mattress had indeed turned out to be much better for sleeping on – and the other stuff of course – than the old, crappy one. But there had been other stuff he had only pretended to buy and hadn't, meeting with Monica instead and going at it, as always, and still as fiercely and ardently as in their first week, as if there was no tomorrow, never really satisfied and always hungry for more. There was another thing that never ceased to amaze him: that she still wanted to do it with him every single time and never once turned him down. With Janice it had almost always been a struggle to get her in the mood for it and by the time she was ready he was often too exhausted for more than a quickie. With Kathy it had been easier, at least after he had figured out how to get her going, but she never had had much time or energy to spare, funneling all of it into her work. More often than not she had come to him all worked up and high, leaving it to him too get her down again and calm her. That had often turned out to be quite rewarding too, but invariably he had felt that there was something missing from it all.

When he entered the café the whole gang was there already, as he had thought, with Ross on the easy chair, the girls on the couch – Monica at the end near the bar – and Joey at the little table next to her. It was perfect because that way he could get on the other chair at the table and place himself between Joey and Monica where they could look at each other and even touch their feet without anyone noticing.

They were all listening to Phoebe telling them the latest news about one of her clients who had a serious OCD that caused him have a nervous breakdown if she didn't massage him exactly the same way at exactly the same hour to the minute at each of their sessions. No one noticed him until he arrived at the couch and Joey saw him and waved. While they greeted him he placed the briefcase casually on the backrest of the couch just to the left of Monica's head so it hid his hand from view as he gave her a quick tickle on the neck. She responded by leaning back and trapping his hand between her back and the couch, and then turned her head up to grin at him, her eyes sparkling. When he withdrew his hand and shifted the briefcase a little, she gave an almost imperceptible nod.

So, work at home, just as he had thought. No problem. He smiled, put the briefcase under the side table and went to the bar to get coffee and a muffin. When he returned Phoebe had finished her story and they were all laughing, Phoebe most of all. As always since her return from Montauk he was amazed about how fast she had recovered from her pregnancy with the triplets and the birth especially, physically as well as emotionally. Nobody who didn't know her would ever think now that less than a month ago she had been so heavily pregnant she had hardly fit through the door, and always looked so tired and worn with it. After the birth she had been listless and depressed for quite some time, even after the week spent in Montauk, until they had been at their wits end about what to do to help her; but she had bounced back with amazing speed when they'd decided to catch up on that weekend in Atlantic City. It did the trick and had been a lot of fun too. He had not been able to get Monica alone much, but it had still been worth it. And there was an idea - maybe that would be something he could do with Monica one of these weekends, go away somewhere to spend two days all alone by themselves. Celebrate another week that they made it through without getting caught.

Now Ross told them about his latest efforts to get Emily on the phone and the desperate tricks and measures he had resorted to to track her down, phoning everyone who knew her all over England and having to deal with weird accents and dialects he had never thought to hear, let alone be able to understand. And Joey reluctantly agreed to help him to talk to the bridesmaid again that night and Rachel suggested that they should all pitch in and take turns on the phone at Ross's, making it a sort of party. Ordinarily he would have loved to be part of it, but of course the chance to be alone with Monica was too good to miss.

"I have to work" he said with what he hoped was a suitably regretful expression. "Got to prepare for an important meeting tomorrow – you know how it is. We really tried to get those guys to come over on Monday, but no, they really want it tomorrow. Didn't want to miss the chance to live it up in New York over the weekend, those geeks."

"I have to work too" Monica chimed in. "That new sous-chef gets everything wrong, so my boss asked me to come and breathe down his neck for a bit, to get his ass into gear. His words, not mine."

"Don't overdo it or he'll end up doing everything half-assed ..." he remarked.

"Or go ass over tea-kettle" Ross added gleefully. Immediately everybody joined in with ass related terms until Monica put her hands to her ears and begged them to stop. And then everybody finished up and they left the café together. While the others waited at the curb for a taxi, he and Monica headed off for home and grabbed for each other's hands as soon as they had turned the corner. They kept their hands entwined as they walked up to their building and went up the stairs to their apartments. There he ducked into no. 19 quickly to deposit his briefcase, coat and tie in his bedroom and check on the birds, then he came back out straight into her arms for a long deep kiss on the doorstep of her apartment. Still kissing they entered it, and he kicked the door shut behind them. They crossed over to her bedroom still holding each other and maintaining the kiss. In her bedroom they started to undress each other slowly, taking their time with it – it wasn't often that they had the luxury of time on such occasions, and when they did, they liked to make the most of it. Chandler actually let her fold his suit pants and shirt neatly over her chair and put his shoes under it instead of kicking them all over the room. Then they stood in front of the bed, close together with their arms wrapped around each other, savoring the moment, letting their bodies get reacquainted all over again. At last he nudged her a little and she let herself sink backwards on the bed while he went on his knees just before it and wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing his face against her lap, kissing and nibbling at her mount. She sighed contentedly and then moaned, clenching her hands in his hair. When she drew up her knees, he gently pushed her thighs apart and held them down while he pressed closer and deeper and started to apply his tongue. Monica bucked against him and screamed, softly at first and then getting louder with each further stroke of his tongue. Chandler's head was swimming and he felt like he was losing himself in her, shutting out everything around him so he could funnel all he had to give on her. When she started to draw him away, panting and squirming, he almost didn't notice at first. At last he released her and she scooted backwards on the bed, drawing him up and over her urgently. Then he sank down on her and groaned when their bodies slid together and seemed to join almost by themselves without any assistance or effort from either of them. They started off slowly, holding themselves back as much as possible, only picking up speed when their arousal got too much for them. Now he was getting louder too, groaning and shouting like he had never been able before her without feeling acutely embarrassed. Monica had freed him of that and now he loved how it added to the excitement when there was no need to be quiet.

Just as he sensed her climax approaching, she dug her nails into his shoulders, shuddering, and the pain turned into a welcome distraction for him, enabling him to hold out a little longer while she rode out her orgasm to the last. Then he let go too, let himself fall and dissolve into her, relaxing until it felt like he would not be able to move so much as a finger anytime soon. He felt her hands on his back, stroking gently where her nails had just dug into his skin, and her calves and feet on the back of his thighs and buttocks. Somehow he found the strength to raise his head and search for her mouth, kissing her with his eyes closed, without any desire, just sweet tenderness. They remained like this for some time until he managed to heave himself up and away from her, stretching out on his back beside her like a beached whale. When her hand groped for his, he closed it around hers tightly.

As always she recovered much faster than he ever could, getting up on her elbow and running her other hand playfully over his chest while he was still catching his breath. But he managed to catch her hand in his and entwine their fingers.

"Friday no. 4 coming up" she said softly and he grunted assent.

"I can't believe it's been four weeks already. Four weeks!"

"Mmmhhm."

"One whole month. We should celebrate that."

"Mmmmh …. Mmmmh?"

"Hey, are you falling asleep on me?"

"Hmm? Um, no – I'm not asleep." But it actually was an effort to open his eyes again. Or at least one of them. Monica was staring intently at him and he smiled at her blissfully, almost closing his eyes again.

"Um, okay, celebrate – yeah, by all means. Let's."

"Can you be here at four?"

"I think so. Should be no problem. So?"

"Then I'll be waiting for you. With something special." Her eyes were sparkling as she lowered her head to kiss him. He drew her closer and over him, and gradually his weariness dissolved again, as he felt her trim body pressing against his.

"Something special? Like what?"

"You'll see" she grinned and then moaned when his hands slid down her back to her buttocks, cupping them, while his fingertips slipped between her thighs.

"Okay, then I'll … bring something" he panted, suddenly wide awake again, as her legs parted until she straddled his hips and started to rub herself against him.

"Like what?"

"Aahh ... umm ... You'll see."