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She didn't wear perfume.
That was one of the things he had begun to know about her.
He knew this by leaning over the reception counter under the guise of watching her play solitaire. He tried hard not to stare at the place where her hair brushed against her shoulder, the hint of a clavicle behind the soft gray collar of her sweater. He had always liked clavicles. That spot made him think of Saturday mornings, sleeping in late, sugar cookies, candle light . . . and that, was not something that could be found in a bottle of any kind. He had to stop himself from thinking about what the rest of her might smell like.
He stored this one certain thing along with the others in the mental lock box that had already begun to grow in shape and size, the colors melding into one that matched the color of her hair.
Story Notes:
Pre Season 1 Jim and Pam goodness.
Author's Chapter Notes:
I have been in a very Jim sort of mood today. Some short Jim and Pam stories from their past.
