A/N: Naughtiness warning!

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"That's weird," Chandler mused, throwing his keys on the counter. "I thought for sure Joey and Pheebs would beat us here."

"They're, uh." Rachel bit her thumbnail. "Over at my apartment."

Chandler's throat was suddenly dry. "And, um. They're staying there?"

"Judging by the noise? Um, yeah... I don't see them changing locales."

"Well, that's very interesting," Chandler said quickly.

"Isn't it?"

"So, uh. *We're* alone," Chandler did a nervous little dance, and Rachel laughed.

"Yeah, I guess we are... anything you, um... wanted to do?"

"I like foosball," Chandler stuttered.

"Foosball it is." Rachel sauntered over to the foosball table, leaning over to retrieve the little ball. She felt heat behind her and smiled.

"Actually," Chandler whispered against her hair, "I like other things better than foosball."

"No way." She let herself melt into him.

"No-no, it's true! I like this dress! It's very nice." He ran his hands up and down her hips. "Very... fabric-y."

"Actually, it's made entirely *of* fabric."

"*That's* fascinating... so, is it lined? I'm very interested in fashion."

"Y'know, I don't remember?" Rachel fake-yawned.

"Well, I'm curious, lemme see..." he trailed his hands down, sliding her dress higher on her thighs. "Oh dear god... you're *wearing* garters...!"

"Oh, yeah... you like them?"

"Merfliggerfleh," Chandler groaned.

"I'll take that as a yes," Rachel grinned. She turned around, hopping up on the edge of the foosball table. "Actually, they're *really* uncomfortable. Could you help me out here?"

Chandler's eyes goggled as she swung her ankle onto his shoulder.

"You are... you are very flexible, Mrs. Robinson," he stammered.

"I was a cheerleader," she grinned naughtily. "I can still do the splits."

"I'll keep that in mind." He paused. "Actually, I don't think I'll be able to think about anything else. Pretty much ever." He ran his hand down the length of her stocking. "These are bothering you, huh?"

"Tremendously."

"Well I... *do* try to help ladies when they need things," Chandler grinned, pulling off her shoe and letting it drop to the floor, letting his hands wander slowly to the top of her garter, unsnapping it and pulling the fabric down. Rachel sighed, her head leaning back as the silky material slid down her leg.

Chandler went down on one knee, removing her other shoe and repeating the process. "Any other intriguing undergarments I should know about?"

"Y'know... it's weird... I can't remember that either. How about you?"

"Oh, y'know, just the standard pink lace teddy I *always* wear to weddings..."

"This I gotta see," Rachel growled, grabbing him by the shirt collar and yanking him upwards, capturing his mouth with hers.

"You know what?" Rachel said as they broke the kiss. "I hate this tie. This is a horrible tie." She undid the knot and yanked it off, dropping it on the floor. "And this shirt... this is totally not your color." She began furiously unbuttoning it.

"Yeah, I take it back, I *loathe* this dress," Chandler grinned. "Never wear this again." He slid it over her head, tossing it away... then his jaw dropped.

"Okay, I cannot... I *cannot* pretend I don't like that bra."

"Oh, but try," Rachel laughed into his ear, hands on his belt buckle.

"Hey now... keep that up, and you're gonna see my tat."

"Oh, I plan to see a lot of you this evening."

"Do you now," Chandler smiled.

"Yup," Rachel smiled, pulling his belt free from its loops and slinging it across the counter. "Close-up, too."

Chandler swallowed hard. "Feelin' great hate for the bra now."

"You know what would really show it? Throwing it on the floor."

"Good idea!" He quickly did so.

"Still nice like mittens?" Rachel laughed, reveling in the awe on his face.

"Those... were *never*... nice like mittens."

Rachel looked downward, a smile playing over her lips. "So I *didn't* lie to Monica and Phoebe after the handcuff incident."

Chandler ran a finger around the top of her underwear. "Okay if I hate these too?"

"They told me they thought your mother dressed you funny."

"The bastards!" Chandler cried, sliding them off and shaking his finger at them before dropping them to the floor.

Rachel leaned forward, kissing his neck. "Well..."

"We are just all *kinds* of naked."

"So, we playing foosball now?"

"Is that what the kids are calling it these days?" Chandler asked, swinging Rachel into his arms.

"Well, I'd say it made a great code-word... if you didn't do it with Joey all the time..."

"Oh, did I not tell you about me and Joey?" Chandler asked seriously. "You're cool with that, right?"

"Sure! I mean, I did have that dream about the two of you..."

"Okay, call my bluff, call my bluff *right now*!"

"Consider it called," Rachel purred as he laid her down on the bed and crawled next to her.

"Y'know, I'd forgotten about that dream. You wanna wait, do it on the table at the coffeeshop?"

"I don't want to wait one *nanosecond* more," she laughed, drawing him to her.

"Yes, ma'am," he grinned as she wrapped her legs around him and all conscious thought left his brain.