Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Chapter 5: I know what I am
"Hey, I'm home!"
Jim glanced away from the baseball game on the television toward the clock when he heard Pam come into the front hallway. "Hey, yourself. Where'd you go?" He hadn't been worried, exactly, but Pam was almost an hour late getting home from her evening class. He smiled as his wife entered the room holding a small gray shopping bag.
"Janet told me about a sale at Kohl's, so I stopped there instead of coming straight home. I'm sorry, I should have called." Pam crossed the room and leaned over the recliner to kiss Jim lightly. As she smiled down at him, he took a moment to marvel at how beautiful she was, how happy they finally were. It was a miracle.
Pam straightened up to walk across the family room toward the kitchen. "Hey, now, wait a minute," Jim said. Pam stopped short and turned back with a questioning look. "Aren't you going to model what you bought for me? After I waited all this time, I at least deserve a fashion show."
Pam's eyebrows shot up and she gestured with the bag toward the kitchen. "Well, no, I didn't-- " She stopped, a glint of mischief lighting in her eyes. With a naughty smile, she nodded a bit. "OK, if you're so impatient to see." She crossed the room slowly, her smile becoming downright devilish. Leaning down again, she whispered directly into Jim's ear. "Give me five minutes, then come up and see what I've bought for...us." Her breath on his neck, her throaty whisper, the gleam in her eye- Jim had been mostly joking about wanting a show, but now his whole body was on the lookout for what she might have in the gray bag. The very small gray bag, he noticed with a jolt.
The five minutes that Jim waited in the living room seemed longer than the whole hour he'd waited for Pam to get home. Finally, with an expectant smile and a small amount of discomfort, he climbed the steps to the second floor, crossed the hall, and knocked lightly on the bedroom door. "Ready?"
"Come on in," Pam called from inside. Jim pushed the door open and immediately tried to stifle a guffaw.
Pam was reclining seductively against the pillows on the bed. Swathed around her slender hips like a skirt, she was wearing a fruit-patterned dish towel. Over her right breast was a matching pot-holder. On her left breast, jauntily waving at him, she had perched a fruit-patterned oven mitt. She was trying desperately not to smile.
"Nice outfit. Quite a change from your norm," he managed to say without laughing.
"Thanks." Pam was still fighting a smile, but also looked incredibly amused at herself.
"You think you're funny, don't you?"
Pam shrugged slightly so as not to disturb her precariously placed oven mitt. "I know what I am. Anyway, you're the one who wanted me to model what I bought." She finally giggled. Jim eased himself down onto the edge of the bed and ran a hand gently along her calf.
She looked ridiculous, but she was so beautiful. Despite the kitchen linens, a vast amount of her creamy skin was showing, and her hair was falling around her shoulders in a way that made his breath hitch. He loved her so much. "You're such a dork," he said instead. Something in her eyes told him that she understood what he meant. "Now about this...ensemble..."
Jim reached over to the oven mitt, grasping it as though he were shaking hands. "Nice to meet you. Bye-bye!" With a gentle squeeze of the breast beneath, Jim removed the mitt and flung it off the bed. Pam laughed. Jim paused a moment, as though earnestly considering the pot holder covering the other breast. "Now, Pam, you are scorchin' hot, but I think I can manage without this." The pot holder followed the oven mitt to the floor. Jim proceeded to caress the now-bare flesh, nuzzling up Pam's torso until he reached her mouth for a passionate kiss.
After a moment, though, Pam stopped kissing back. "Wait a minute, what about the dish towel?" she asked in faux concern, her eyes still sparkling at her joke.
"You can leave the dish towel. I'll just call you Dobby."
"HEY!" Pam shouted in pretend outrage. Jim stifled her laughter with kisses. They quickly moved on to better things.
The next morning, Jim smiled when he found the dish towel tucked under his pillow.
