As she opens her eyes to greet the morning, for the second time that day, Pam squints at the sun pouring in through the blinds on Jim’s bedroom window. She rolls over to tuck herself into him and she realizes that he isn’t there. She frowns and sits up, holding the sheet over her chest and looking around the room through sleepy eyes. Where is he?
Then she smells it. Breakfast cooking. And then she hears it. Singing. Jim is singing and…cooking her breakfast?
She smiles as she grabs his grey t-shirt at the foot of his bed and pulls it on over her head. She searches for her panties, which had been hastily discarded last night, and she finds them with her other clothes on the floor. The memory of how they got there makes her shiver, but she shakes it off and heads downstairs.
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She leans in the doorway of the kitchen as she watches him work. He’s a flurry of cracking eggs, flipping pancakes, and sizzling bacon. He sings along with the radio to…Wham?
“Wake me up, before you go-go, don’t leave me hanging on like a yo-yo…”
He continues his dance in the kitchen – a perfect balance of feet tapping, head bobbing, and hands working frantically to keep all aspects of the feast he is preparing cooking just right. She smiles. A smile so big she’s afraid that her face will break in half, and so she attempts to rein it in by biting her bottom lip. It doesn’t work.
“Wake me up, before you go-go, ‘cause I’m not plannin on goin’ solo…”
She finally loses it. Her laughter surfaces like bubbles in a soda bottle and she startles him. Jim whips around to look at her, a sheepish grin on his face. He’s adorable. His hair is messy, he’s wearing blue boxer shorts and a white undershirt, and he’s wielding a spatula in his right hand. She has to keep herself from running to him, jumping in his arms, and wrapping herself around him.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” he wags his eyebrows at her and his voice is low and gravelly and suddenly the room feels about ten degrees hotter. “I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”
“No, not at all. I woke up and then I heard you singing. Oh, and by the way, 1984 called and they want their music back.”
“Ha, ha, very funny, Beesly. I’ll have you know that there was some great music that came out of the eighties. Depeche Mode? The Cure…” he trails off as he turns back to the oven to flip again.
“Yeah, maybe, but..Wham?” Pam lets out an exaggerated sigh and shakes her head “it’s a good thing you’ve got me now to set you straight.”
As she walks by him towards the fridge he grabs her from behind and wraps his arms around her. His breath is hot on her neck. It radiates down through her and she feels it in her belly, her legs, her toes, and…other places. She closes her eyes as she feels his lips on her cheek, her temple, and that spot below her ear.
“Yeah, it is a good thing I’ve got you now, huh?” He whispers it in her ear and god she could explode right here on the spot. She turns in his arms and wraps her arms around his neck, raising her head up to kiss her way from his chin up to his lips.
“Good morning. Again.” She whispers it against his lips and thinks back to the first time they, well, greeted each other that morning.
The room was still dark but the promise of a sunny day shone through in slivers in the morning sky. Pam opened her eyes and glanced at the clock….6:56. She groaned at first, thinking they would have to get up for work, but then it hit her that it was Saturday and they had nowhere to be. As she closed her eyes to settle back in she felt Jim’s arms tighten around her waist and pull her back towards him a bit. Just like that…sleep is suddenly the furthest thing from her mind.
She could feel him stirring against her back, and she softly pushed herself back against him. He slipped his hand up over her belly and higher, grabbing her breast and gently rolling her nipple in between his fingertips. She gasped at his touch and pressed back against him again. The sheets slid underneath them as she shifted to turn and lay on her back. Her mouth met his and without a word she opened her legs for him. His fingers trailed down to find her wet and ready. It was quiet in the room except for her breath hitching as he slid a finger into her and his mouth wandered down to blaze a hot trail of kisses across her breasts. Within a few minutes she was breathing heavy and clenching around his fingers.
Once her head stopped swimming, she pushed gently on his chest. The headboard softly knocked against the wall while he laid back against it and she climbed on top of him. He closed his eyes as she surrounded him…wet and warm, and they moved slowly as the sun came up and the day began.
Afterwards, they laid there quietly, her head on his chest, his hand mindlessly tracing circles on her back. And as their breathing returned to normal, they closed their eyes for a few more hours.
They both seem lost in the memory of that morning and suddenly Jim remembers the breakfast cooking - no, burning, on the stove top.
“Shit, shit,” he pulls away from her and quickly removes the now burnt pancakes and puts them on another burner. He turns on the stove vent and fans an oven mitt at the hot pan in an effort to get some of the smoke out of the kitchen.
“Here I’ll open a window,” Pam reaches over the kitchen sink to unlatch the window and pull it open. The shirt she is wearing rides up and reveals her bottom, gorgeous and clad in black lacy panties that Jim remembers pulling off with his teeth last night. He feels himself stir at the thought and he leans back against the counter opposite her to enjoy the view.
“There. That should air it out a bit. Don’t worry about breakfast we can...” Pam turns around to see Jim watching her. Leaning against the counter, legs crossed at the ankle, arms crossed, with a smile that reached his eyes.
“Can I help you? Is there a reason you’re staring at me?”
“No, no, just…enjoying the view.” He smiles and he looks…pleased, and clearly aroused.
“Oh. Okay,” she nods and her eyes light up with realization, “So…did you need me to get you another pan for your pancakes? Maybe, down here?” She points to the cabinet below and to the left of the sink – where he keeps the few frying pans and cooking utensils he has. Without waiting for his answer she bends down slowly at the waist to open the cabinet, taking her time looking for another frying pan, even though she’s pretty sure that cooking breakfast is now the furthest thing from his mind. She can feel his eyes on her and it makes her feel sexy, alive, beautiful. As she stands up she feels him come up behind her and hook his finger through the back of her panties. His other hand runs slowly up the inside of her thigh and it sends goose bumps over her skin. She stands up straight and he pushes her hair away from her neck to place hot kisses there.
“Breakfast can wait,” he says and she giggles as he pulls her panties down and she grabs on to the white tile countertop.
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Later, they are eating bagels and drinking coffee while they lay on the couch together. Pam’s feet are in his lap and her head is at the other end.
“So let me ask you a question,” she begins, “since when do you listen to eighties music? I never thought I’d see the day when George Michael was blaring out of your radio.”
“You know, sometimes you gotta mix it up a little bit,” Jim chuckles and runs his finger along the underside of her foot. “Actually it was one of the first stations on when I turned on the radio this morning. And let’s face it, Pam, Mix 95.1 does have the best mix of the eighties and nineties in Scranton.”
She laughs and pulls her feet away as he tickles them.
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That night, as she starts to cook dinner for them, she feels herself blush when she leans down to grab a large pot from the cabinet below, and she hears him chuckle behind her.
“Geez Pam, let’s try to get through one meal without you seducing me in the kitchen, okay?” He sighs exaggeratedly and shakes his head. He turns on the radio and as the sun sets outside they stand side by side cooking dinner and humming along.
