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Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they are only used for entertainment and fangirl purposes, no copyright infringement is intended. No money is being made on this work, believe me.
Author's Chapter Notes:

WARNING: This story has speculative spoilers for "Ben Franklin," 3X14. Nothing more than what we saw in the promo. Proceed at your own risk.

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they are only used for entertainment and fangirl purposes, no copyright infringement is intended. No money is being made on this work, believe me.

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Jim immediately notices that the stripper that Michael hired is wearing the exact same shirt that Pam is wearing that day. Even if Pam had been wearing something else, he still would have recognized the shirt, because he remembers all of Pam's shirts. The way that they tug tightly and form a slight gap in the buttons over her chest. The way they fit around the curve of her waist. The buttoned cuffs falling just below her elbow, or around her delicate wrists.

The stripper's name is Candy. At least, that's what she tells them, but Jim's sure she's got a normal name like Jennifer, or Jessica, or Heather. Heather. She's probably a Heather, Jim thinks.

Candy -- or Heather (Jim can't decide what to call her in his head) starts dancing with Michael first. For some reason, Jim thinks that she's mistaken Michael as the groom-to-be. Probably because no one has invited Bob Vance down to the warehouse yet. Jim leans over to Ryan and says, "Do you think she knows Michael's not the groom?"

"No, but I don't think she cares. She just wants to be tipped," Ryan says, never taking his eyes off the stripper.

"So, what do you do, um...?" Candy trails off, waiting for Michael to say his name.

"It's Michael," he replies. "I'm the Regional Manager of Dunder-Mifflin, of which you are in our warehouse right now." Michael swallows. He seems nervous.

"Mmm," Candy says, grinding against Michael. "You're the boss, then, Michael?"

"Oh... uh... yeah," Michael says, grunting.

"Well, you can just think of me as your naughty office assistant, then," she purrs.

"You smell like Tide detergent!" Michael says. "God..."

Jim glances over at the cameraman, who turns to Jim just as he reacts. It's like an unspoken agreement they have. Michael does something stupid, Jim reacts. He imagines it's probably in the book of things that "make good TV," or something. Jim's not really sure because he's never been on TV, and he's not sure if he ever will. They've never really explained what they're going to do with the almost three years of footage they've shot so far.

Jim's broken out of his thoughts when he hears Kevin say, "Hey, Michael, it's like you're getting a dance from Pam." Kevin giggles, and his voice cracks. "Mmm... like a hot version of Pam."

"Kevin, that's just... you shouldn't say stuff like that." He glances up at Candy. "You are very attractive, though." Candy is grinding up against his hip, now, moving his legs so she can straddle him.

Jim keeps waiting for Michael to make a comment like, "Bet you wouldn't mind a little piece of this, Jim ... you know, 'cause she's kind of like the Pam you never had," but he doesn't. In fact, Michael doesn't say much of anything. He still looks uncomfortable, and Jim wonders if Michael's ever been around a stripper before.

He doesn't want to keep watching Candy dance with Michael, but he can't help himself. As he watches Candy, in her striped shirt and bouncy, wavy hair (what Jim imagines Pam's hair might look like if she had it over-styled and dyed honey-blonde) -- he can't stop thinking about what it would be like to have Pam do that to him. God.

Jim shifts in his seat. It really is uncomfortable watching a stripper in front of a bunch of guys. It's something that Jim never really got into. All his college friends thought it was great to go visit Daydreams, one of the many strip joints in Philadelphia. While his friends were in the back getting private "couch dances," Jim sat at the table, sucking down overpriced vodka-tonics, and trying to figure out which strippers had real breasts and whose were fake. He grimaces, remembering.

"Show us your booooobs," Kevin says, breaking Jim out of his thoughts again.

Jim looks up and sees Candy now only in a hot-pink bra, which, thankfully, doesn't remind him of Pam at all. It horrifies him when he realizes it makes him think of Kelly. When Jim glances over at Ryan, he notices that Ryan is now mesmerized, his hand stroking the top of his beer bottle.

Jim feels sick to his stomach. He stands up to go get another can of beer and doesn't come back for a long time.

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GreenFish is the author of 15 other stories.
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