Lust, Love, and Pixie Dust

Chapter 1

At the sound of her daughter's desperate wail, Rachel dog-eared page 69 of her erotic book, "The Milkmaid's Tale" and quickly zipped up the fly of her tight-fitting jeans. With baby monitor in one hand and a stuffed toy in the other, she kicked open the bedroom door and strode across the small apartment into Emma's nursery.

"Emma, baby girl, what's the matter?" Rachel cooed, picking up the pudgy infant in her arms. Emma sniffled and sputtered but seemed mildly comforted by her mother's presence.

"Mommy will make it all better," She sang, cuddling the baby next to her voluptuous breasts. Emma had long since been using a bottle, yet the sensation of her petit head against Rachel was oddly soothing for both of them.

They rocked together for a few moments, Rachel quietly rapping a verse of Baby Got Back under her breath. Somewhere after the first few choruses, Emma drifted off to sleep, and Rachel found herself cuddling next to her daughter for the mere calm it brought her. At last she set Emma down and tucked her under the warm, dinosaur blanket.

"I love you, baby boo," Rachel murmured before snapping the light off and returning to her bedroom.

She would have continued pleasuring herself with the company of Nora Bing's latest novel if Joey hadn't slammed the front door just that minute.

"Hey Rach?" He called, his voice slightly subdued (a trick he had learned after months of living with a light sleeping infant.)

Rachel reluctantly pulled her pants back up, wiped her hands on the seat, and came out to see Joey with a bag of groceries under his arm.

"Joey are you…cooking? A meal?" Rachel asked, raising an eyebrow slightly. Joey looked around as if to say who, me? Before it dawned on him.

"Oh, this. Naw. We just ran out of some essentials."

"Like?" Rachel asked, almost afraid to hear the answer. It was all she could do to keep the refrigerator sufficiently full of baby friendly sustenance. Joey grinned.

"Well let's se…" He replied, taking out the items one at a time. "Cheetos…Oreos…Beer…some more beer…jam…chocolate pudding…and Capt'n Crunch!"

Rachel sighed. At least the chocolate pudding would do for Emma's dessert. As for the rest, what could she say… she lived with a Tribbiani. This she accepted.

Rachel looked up at the kitchen clock and swore.

"I only have an hour to get ready for my date with Ross!" She cried, thrusting the door open and retreating into her room.

Joey shrugged, took out a spoon, and dug into some jam.

"So, where did you grow up?"

Phoebe slumped in her chair. Well, here she was again. Sitting at one of her favorite restaurants and having to listen to some shmo blab about himself, only stopping to ask Phoebe the one question that was almost impossible for her to answer without freaking the guy out. She had hope for this one: his name was Leo, he was attractive and her age, and he was a law student. Too bad he was so bland she considered poking herself in the eye with her salad fork.

"The Broncs," she lied through a mouthful of bread. God, even the taste of butter-less olive loaf was more flavorful than her date.

Leo chuckled, which lightened the mood slightly.

"A true New Yorker, through and through. I like that," he said as the waiter arrived with his steak. Phoebe considered puking, and then realized that she should have divulged her vegetarianism prior.

"I have to go to the bathroom," She stated, half lying half being truthful. The smell was getting to her and she needed some air. Just to be safe, she grabbed her purse and jacket when Leo had turned his head.

Once locked up in a quiet stall, Phoebe took out her phone and speed dialed Monica and Chandler's.

"Hello?"

Shit Phoebe swore under hear breath. It was Chandler.

"Hey, it's Phebs. Is Mon there?" she asked hurriedly, not in the mood for any of Chandler's ridiculous jokes, which half the time, she did not even pretend to get.

"Yep. She's just finishing dusting the pillows. I'll get her for you."

Phoebe thanked Lucifer that Chandler wasn't feeling so wise that evening. After a few impatient moments, she heard the blessed sound of horny Monica, which came only once a day during her evening cleaning of the apartment. Again, she thanked Lucifer for her stroke of luck.

"Mon, my date makes me want to shoot myself! What should I do?" She practically yelled, forgetting the frightened old lady attempting to relieve herself in the next stall over.

"Really, Leo? But he's so cute!" Monica squealed on the other end, earning a detectable yelp from her boyfriend.

"Yessss, Monica! Please, I'm out of ideas. Plus, he ordered steak. I honestly want to throw up on him to give me an excuse to leave. What do I do?" She repeated, desperately hoping that Monica could help her. Rachel was really the more appropriate person to call for this sort of advice, but since she would be going out with Ross soon…

"Ok, ok. I've got it. Just tell him you're gay and went out with him trying to fool yourself. Guys flip out about that."

Phoebe considered this. Monica really was cleverer than she was given credit for. And plus, it wasn't like Phoebe had any other options, the way the date was going.

"Thanks so much, I'll do it. Bye!"

The two hung up quickly, and Phoebe returned to her date to deliver him the news.

"Wow," Leo replied, biting his lower lip. He'd stopped devouring his meal…was that a good sign?

"That's actually…really hot."

Phoebe groaned.

"That's it! I'm leaving. And by the way, Leo Kaminski, you are less interesting than the waiter's bald head!" she shouted.

As she walked away, a feeling of satisfaction playing on her lips, she realized that she had probably offended more than one person on the date. Maybe a long, hot bubble bath and some Enia would wash it all away.

"Oooooooh yeah…" Rachel moaned, pressing herself against the wall of the shower. She imagined that it was Ross touching her, pounding his "engorged love stick" (in the words of Nora Bing) into her. She frantically rubbed her clit, wanting desperately to orgasm quickly so that she could relieve herself and finish getting ready for the date. Her wet hair clung in a sticky, steamy heap on her shoulders, and her ring was suddenly creating a very pleasant friction. She rocked in tune with her speedy thrusts, grinding desperately against her hands and fingers. She shook with joy and let herself splash into the pool of tepid water and her juices and she came spectacularly.

"Hmm," she sighed contentedly. She was so glad to have Nora Bing's "literature" in her life.

It took her several moments to realize that there was someone standing in the doorway of the steamy bathroom. Not even bothering to cover herself, she thrust open the shower curtain.

"Joey!" she gasped, slightly enraged. "Get out of here!" she yelped, grabbing a fluffy bath towel from the counter and covering herself sufficiently.

"I'm sorry!" He mumbled, not being able to draw his attention away from Rachel's firm nipples, still eminent through the towel.

"I just…" He mumbled, not able to find a way to explain himself.

"I'm so sorry." He said again, embarrassed, before vacating the room. Rachel, dripping onto the bathmat, stared in shock, fury, and wonderment after him. Then, she slammed the door.