After Rosa’s departure, he called Max.
“Am I speaking to the second sexiest waitress I know,” he started.
“Hey,” Max responded with a sharp gasp, then chuckled. “Fair enough. Caroline has that sexy damsel in distress thing she has going on. But, if that’s your one call for bail, good luck spending your day in prison. You lost the right to my help with it,” she teased.
“Nope. I managed to talk myself out of a ticket.”
That made Max whistle, surprised. “Really? It has been an hour. The talk must have taken a long time. Did they bring you back to the station.”
“Nope, we stayed in the scene.”
“Really?”
“Well, even you have to admit that she was an angry cop. Talking her down took a while.”
She gasped. “Really, you managed to bag her,” Max said, surprised by his achievement. Then, she continued with an exaggerated, dramatic tone. “Please, my love, at least tell me that you didn’t do in our special spot.”
“No Max. The alley behind the shooting range is ours. It’s where we gave our newest friend an orgasm by watching. I wouldn’t taint it by seducing another woman there, no matter how sexy she is while angry.” He paused. “We used the shooting range.”
“You challenged her to a shooting match again, right? You need better techniques.”
“Hey, it’s not my fault almost all women I’ve met since I arrived is turning out to be sharpshooters. Though, I’m surprised that she managed to climb to the top.”
“So Robin is already second? Poor girl.”
Third, actually, and she’s not even close to the first two.”
“Damn, boy. Who are they, snipers?”
“More or less. Both are sniper certified,” he said.
“That’s a good way to make a girl feel inadequate,” she said.
“Then, you should work harder,” he chuckled. “I’m looking forward to meeting back with you and Caroline. Do you think we can convince her to another spin-the-bottle game?”
“You really like to push your luck, don’t you?” Max responded.
“Where’s the fun in safety? Either you stab me, or we’ll have an amazing night. Either way, a fun night.”
“Fine, we leave work at eleven,” Max said, then ended the call.
He smirked, happy with the details. However, it also meant that he had a few hours to kill. Robin was at work, Mia was still traveling, and he couldn’t chase Rosa immediately without angering her.
He decided to check another location.
Central Perk.
The cafe was familiar yet foreign at the same time; the time effect impacting some of the details. Yet, some details stayed the same.
Including a hideous orange couch near the center with a comfortable look, filled with familiar people. Ross Geller sat on the far end, nursing a coffee and the particular expression of a man whose life was complicated. He looked young, awkward, and nervous, even though another familiar woman was sitting next to him.
Julia, whose presence already gave him a rough timeline. Season two.
She was enjoying her coffee while Chandler chatted with Ross, with Joey giggling at the side, radiating a casual charisma even when sitting. When he wasn’t laughing at Chandler’s sarcastic comments, he was playing some kind of weird game with Phoebe. He clearly didn’t know the rules … but from the way she acted, it wasn’t a guarantee that Phoebe did either.
Phoebe was beautiful, but the weird energy she radiated was very confusing. He couldn’t tell whether she was extremely attractive, or too weird to be sexy. If Barney had seen her, he would have immediately started explaining the hot-crazy scale. It was difficult to guess where Phoebe would fall, not because she wasn’t beautiful, but because assessing her crazy score was not as simple.
Still, he might have been tempted to target her, if it hadn’t been for two others. One was Rachel, her beauty and charisma radiating even as she tried to juggle orders. Well, it had to, considering that between him walking in and walking toward his table, she delivered two orders wrong.
If it hadn’t been for her beautiful smile earning forgiveness and hefty tips, she would have starved.
Her beauty was tempting, especially since the way her expression darkened every time her gaze fell on Julia and Ross, making her a prime target. But, as tempting as it was, he had another target in mind.
Monica.
Black-haired, neurotic, and bonkers beautiful; made even more attractive by the fact that she didn’t seem to be aware of it. He didn’t know whether it was the lore or her rather aggressive Type-A personality that kept her unaware of that fact, but to him, it made her sexier.
Especially since she looked the perfect combination of antsy and nervous. It must be the time she got fired. And, she wasn’t handling it well, considering the way her friends never fully engaged her, afraid of an explosion.
The perfect time to interact with her, but not directly. If he had approached and asked for her number, it probably would have worked … but he had a better idea. He picked his seat accordingly, and he ordered coffee, as well as a pen and paper. He got them … though he had to remind Rachel twice.
She was truly a terrible waitress.
Then, on the paper, he wrote Max’s special cupcake recipe, and on the sidebar, he started taking notes, making some adjustments, Cooking allowed him to come up with some incredible adjustments.
He wrote only the most extreme versions of those ideas, the kind that would drive a classically trained chef crazy. Especially an unemployed one, just bored enough, ignored by her friends.
He filled three sheets of paper full with some of his weirdest ideas, from cutting cooking time in half by adding extreme levels of baking powder to wasabi-filled cupcake recipes. Then, when Monica went to the bathroom, he adjusted his seat slightly, making sure to position it so that it would catch her attention on the way back.
Predictably, on her way back, she froze, reading over his shoulder. Monica had many nice qualities. Respecting others’ privacy was not one of them.
“Are you mad?” she asked.
He paused, looking back to catch her incredulous expression. Interestingly, she looked even more attractive than she had in her earlier, bored state. "Excuse me?"
"The butter ratio, it’s criminal. And, who in his right mind, designs cupcakes with wasabi aroma.”
“Monica, don’t harass the paying customers, please,” Rachel said as she approached, while the rest of their friends also looked alarmed.
“Not a problem,” Ethan responded, smiling disarmingly. “Just because someone doesn’t know how to cook doesn’t mean I’ll be offended.”
“I don’t know how to cook! Are you kidding!” Monica responded, her anger flaring. “How dare you tell that after the recipe on paper? It’s a culinary crime.”
He smirked in a way that fueled her anger even further. “Alright, big shot. Sit down and tell me exactly why it’s wrong.”
“Of course,” she said and sat down. She studied the modified recipe a bit. “The butter recipe alone is enough to kill the structural integrity of the cake. You’ll have a flat mess.”
“Nope. Already considered,” he said as he pointed at an earlier section.
“Mmm. More sugar and a longer mixing time. It’ll reduce the impact somewhat, but then you’ll have frosting over solid sugar. That’s a weird new dessert, not a cupcake.”
“Hey, that’s innovation for you. If it gives some people diabetes, it’s not my problem, right?”
“That still doesn’t solve the other issue. I have to admit, the flavor profile looks interesting, but they will clash too much…”
He responded, which triggered a long debate that lasted almost an hour. Twice, he ordered more coffee for both of them, and the rest of the friends decided that a distracted Monica was better than a moping one, and left her alone.
"Have you ever baked with something with this flavor profile before?" she asked once he baited her.
"No, but theoretically it’s sound."
"You can't work out execution theoretically. Cooking requires testing."
"I agree. Unfortunately, I'm traveling, and my hotel room only has a hotplate. Hardly the place to experiment."
"A hotplate!" she gasped as if he had just cursed her mother.
"I know. Which is why it's staying theoretical until I find a proper kitchen."
The hook was set. He watched Monica process the implication, a recipe that needed testing, one that could distract her from her current funk. He could see her desire to be proven right warring with social conventions.
Social conventions lost more spectacularly than a team tanking for the first pick in the draft.
"I have a kitchen," she said.
"I'm sure you do."
"A proper kitchen. Professional-grade range, convection oven, stand mixer, every tool you'd need, right upstairs."
“Oh, a challenge,” he said.
“Challenge is a strong word. It’s more like me pitying you to show that what you have here would never work.”
“In Los Angeles, those are fighting words.”
“It’s the same in New York,” she responded. He stood up, dropped a hundred dollars on the table to pay for the coffee, as well as a very generous tip.
"Mon?" Rachel's voice drifted as they were leaving. "Everything okay?"
"Fine. I'm just going to school someone in baking."
"Him?" Rachel asked.
“Yes,” Monica replied, excited. Her friends looked at each other.
"A culinary experiment," Ross repeated, with the particular protective-brother energy who realized his sister was about to be moving to a private space with a very handsome stranger. “You can’t just—“
“Ross, shut it,” Rachel said as she dashed to Ross’ side, squeezing his arm in warning. She whispered softly, but his Perception allowed him to catch it, nonetheless. “He’s a handsome guy, and Monica has been moping since she got fired.”
“But she will—“
“Yes, she will… Let her, and if anyone dares to enter the apartment tonight, I’ll break their knees myself.”
The couch went silent, and collectively shrugged, realizing that Rachel was right. Ross was the only one who wanted to interrupt, but not enough to overrule Rachel.
Monica, unaware of her friends’ decision, dragged him outside. A quick stop at the nearest supermarket to get some of the rarer ingredients later, they were at Monica’s house, another location familiar enough to hurt.
"Don't touch anything until I say you can touch it," Monica said, tying on a fresh apron with the ceremonial gravity of a surgeon gowning up. “After seeing your recipe, I don’t trust you.” But, it was less of an actual warning and more of a competitive banter.
He ignored her warning pointedly, she gasped playfully … and soon, they were baking. It was different than the way he baked with Max, and not just because baking with Max included a lot of nudity. While he was with Max, he was carefully following her recipe, because it was something personal to her.
What he had with Monica was different. It was a professional debate and a competition, meaning they showed off with flashy techniques, mocked and corrected each other.
“Your flour is not mixed smoothly enough!"
"The frosting is curdling!"
"You leveled it with a knife. It’s a culinary crime!"
"No, honey is a perfect subsitute to sugar. You just need to adjust the other wets for moisture!"
"This is cooking! Not a chemistry lesson!"
"I'm not micromanaging. I'm quality-controlling."
The arguing was foreplay. Not in the conventional sense, but it was still flirting.
Monica was excited about the competition, but not enough to miss the way the energy was changing. Whenever he brushed accidentally, Monica made sure to linger, watching him whenever she thought he didn’t realize, biting her lip, her desire growing.
He decided to play along. “Damn, this place is hot. Too bad we can’t risk opening a window without getting city dust on our cupcakes,” he muttered. “You don’t mind if I remove my shirt, do you?”
Monica’s blush was spectacular. “R-removing hour shirt. O-of course. Go ahead,” she stammered.
Playing the himbo was just as fun, he realized as he removed his shirt, his body just sweaty enough to look sexy without looking gross. He put the apron back on; and the sight didn’t help Monica’s arousal the slightest.
They continued to cook. The eye candy didn’t make Monica any less competitive, but it made her more prone to mistakes, with an occasional stammer. Especially whenever their hands overlapped or shoulders touched.
Still, she continued cooking. He had to admit, she was good. Not as good as him, but enough to keep up with him, which, considering he had an Expert Level skill, was an incredible achievement.
She tasted the latest mixture before they started baking it.
"That's —" she started.
"Good?"
"Unusual. The steeping extracts more tannins than folding, which should make it bitter, but you've compensated with sugar." She tasted again.
"Not sugar, but a dash of honey,” he said. “The tannins need a counterweight, honey has a more complex profile."
“Fascinating—“ she started, but he picked that moment to stretch, showing off his muscles. Right when she was reaching a full mixing bowl. She pushed harder than necessary, and it flipped, covering her top with a chocolate-infused mixture.
“No,” she gasped as she looked at herself and the rest of her rack. “This is a disaster.”
He moved immediately behind her, and gathered her hair. “Let’s save your hair. Getting the mixture out of your hair will be too hard,” he said.
“Thanks,” Monica said, then froze, realizing that it meant she had a half-naked man behind him, holding her hair sensually while breathing on her. She shivered, then gulped while he untied her apron. Her top was more of a challenge. “I … while removing my blouse, my hair will get dirty. There’s no way to save it,” she whispered.
“I have a way, but it depends on how much you care about your blouse,” he whispered.
She gulped. “I don’t care about it at all. It’s just something I threw on, just costs two dollars.”
It was a lie. It easily cost a hundred dollars, but he let it slide. After all, she caught onto his implication, and was giving permission. “First, let’s get your hands clean,” he said as he grabbed her hand, brought to his mouth, and licked the chocolate mixture from her fingers one by one.
[Achievement complete. Seduce Monica Geller.
Challenge: Medium]
[+5 Endurance
1 Random Silver Skill
1 Random Silver Reward]
He picked the stat, and focused back on the real reward.
The mixture was already delicious, and the moment made it even sexier. “Delicious,” he whispered as he cleaned her hand, and she shivered, making him wonder whether she would climax if he continued that for another minute. But, soon, the mixture was gone.
She, very conspicuously, never suggested the simple solution of washing her hands.
“Now, hold your hair in place, with both hands,” he whispered as he shifted to stand in front of her. He dropped his apron as well, displaying his naked chest from up close. Then, he grabbed the edge.
“S-scissors are at the top drawer,” she whispered.
“I don’t need scissors,” he whispered as he ripped her top slowly, his attitude shifting from lazy to domineering as her clothing got more deficient. Soon, she was standing in her jeans and bra, with both hands still holding her hair.
It was a sexy sight. “Look what you did, Monica. My fingers are all dirty,” he whispered.
“Let me clean it, then,” she whispered back, her lips parting invitingly. While she sucked his fingers slowly, he brushed his hand against her neck. “How clumsy,” she whispered throatily. “Clean it…”
“My pleasure,” he said as he pressed his lips against her neck.
"This is insane," she whispered, but that didn’t prevent her from scooping some more chocolate from the counter and rubbing it against her belly. “How clumsy of me,” she whispered.
“On it,” he whispered as he pressed his lips to her belly, his tongue dancing. She moaned, not commenting on his fingers unbuttoning her jeans. Her only reaction was to lean against the counter, and brush her chocolate-covered fingers to her inner thighs.
It turned into a beautiful game, with her fingers guiding his tongue, and in response, she obediently accepted when he ripped her bra and panties to pieces, and attacked her wetness with his tongue.
“I think I have discovered the sweetest ingredient,” he whispered as he licked her core.
“S-shut up,” she whispered, but considering her method of silencing him was grabbing his hair and pushing him down, he accepted it.
He grabbed her hips and shifted her position, so that she wasn’t leaning against the clean counter, but the one covered with chocolate mixture. “That’s dirty—“ she gasped, but his tongue started to dance truly, and she said nothing else.
She was too busy climaxing and moaning.
It was proof of just how far she had gone when she said nothing after he pushed her over-the-counter face down and covered her chest with chocolate, creating an even greater mess.
“Fuck me,” she moaned instead as he railed her hard, his hands grabbing her beautiful black hair and pulling back. The earlier playfulness was gone, replaced by aggression, but Monica didn’t argue, accepting the way her core parted against his invasion.
He pushed again and again, and Monica took him with hoarse groans of need, need that had only grown further as she got covered with chocolate. She didn't just want him.
She needed him.
"Yes, yes, yes!" she sobbed with pleasure, soon losing her words. He grabbed her surprisingly toned ass, churning aggressively.
“That’s the first rule of cooking, right, Monica? A consistent rhythm,” he whispered as he drilled her harder.
Then, he realized that turning cooking into dirty talk was a mistake. Not because she didn’t like it. But because she liked it too much. She climaxed around him, desperately moaning, the way her body rubbed against the counter covering her body with even more chocolate.
She was on the verge of fainting, which meant he had to pull back, letting her recover.
Though, there were some advantages. The first was the reward.
[Achievement complete. Teach Monica that mess can be fun as well … as many ways possible.
Challenge: Daring]
[+25 Endurance
1 Random Platinum Skill
1 Random Platinum Reward]
He didn’t have anything specific he needed from Monica in terms of skills, but Endurance was lagging behind, so he picked it. Then, while waiting for her to recover, something else happened. The door clicked open, and Rachel’s head poked in, no doubt feeling confident because she heard no sound.
Her eyes widened as she took a view of the situation. They shared a glance, then Rachel retreated, shocked.
[Achievement complete. Utterly shock Rachel Green.
Challenge: Hard]
[+10 Attractiveness
1 Random Gold Skill
1 Random Gold Reward]
He couldn’t help but wonder what was more surprising for her. The fact that Monica was in such a revealing situation … or the fact that she wasn’t going crazy with the messy state of the kitchen.
He had a feeling it was the latter case.