The frigid air coming up off of Lake Wallenpaupack was again biting at our noses and hands with its chill. Our toes, frozen, our mouths emitting wisps of cloudy, white mist with each breath, but I barely noticed or cared. Pam and I had returned here after things quickly went sour once again below deck. Only just minutes before Pam and Roy were still celebrating their newly set wedding date, dancing in each other’s arms and I was casting off my date for good, tired of her cheers and overeager propositions.

Katy, in reaction to the shock I was breaking up with her, stormed away in a huff back to the dance floor where the dancing had instantly morphed to a gathering of amused spectators. At the stage, a Karaoke session was now taking place; Michael was up there singing Islands in the Stream, his encore act after the ridiculous dance routine he had just performed. Confused as to her intentions, I watched as Katy seductively made her way to where Michael stood singing the Kenny Rogers part. Did she think I’d be jealous if she took up with Michael? I wouldn’t. She wasn’t the one who could draw out that intense longing that turned me from a sensible, well-adjusted adult to a vulnerable, wounded puppy pining for a woman who was engaged to someone else, now that an actual date was set, for real.

In the second I glanced over to take another gut-wrenching look at the woman who brought out such powerful feelings in me in the arms of the oaf that she would soon be married to, I missed it. Glancing back at the stage, it was no longer Katy at Michael’s side.

What the…? How did the… huh?

Dolly Parton herself, with her voluptuous bosom spilling out from the top of a bright red, sequined dress was now crooning with my boss while the rest of my co-workers looked on.

What in the hell is she doing here? And where did Katy go?

As Michael and Dolly continued their duet, I noticed Roy look up and take notice of the petite frame on stage whose over-accentuated curves were squeezed into a flashy costume, then turn back to the petite frame in pin stripes and a pencil skirt in his arms. To me there was no contest, but I guess Roy was a bigger country music fan than me, because he suddenly released Pam from his embrace and moved closer to the stage to direct his gaze on the creamy cups busting out from Dolly’s plunging neckline. As the song came to its final chorus, Michael took Ms. Parton in his arms and lowered her in a passionate dip, laying on her a slobbery kiss that made everyone watching blush in embarrassment.

All that is except Roy who charged the stage with fists balled, taking aim for Michael when suddenly Dwight jumped between them and released a stream of pepper spray in his face sending Roy reeling to the ground, clutching his eyes. An eerie sense of deja-vu that began the moment I saw the crazed look in Roy’s eyes impelled me to act. Under influence of the intense emotional state that had increasingly built up over the night, I shouted out her name, Pam, Pam, Pam and lunged for her hand to whisk her off. Channeling Benjamin Braddock and Elaine from The Graduate, we glanced back for a mere moment as the spray blasted, choking everyone in its midst. We barely escaped but managed to get out just in time, making it back to the deck where the air, though freezing, was clear and uncontaminated.

“I’m really sorry for all that. Sometimes I don’t get Roy,” she said to me but I hushed her with my lips, kissing her almost as passionately as Michael had kissed Dolly, but with a little less saliva and a lot more tenderness. And finally, she was kissing me back, not pulling away until she stopped to say, “Jim, I woke up tonight. I don’t love Roy. Let Dolly have him. I love you, Jim Halpert.”

She leaned back in for another kiss and we stayed like that, cold no longer affecting us thanks to the heat we were generating with our passionate embrace until we broke off in search of more suitable quarters to continue what we had started.

We retreated back to the lower deck, the air still thick, but not with pepper spray, more of an opalescent haze we travelled through until suddenly we were in her bedroom and she was pushing me onto her bed and tearing at my clothes with such ferocity I had to blink multiple times to make sure it was still Pam and not Mrs. Robinson. The night had become so amazingly strange, anything was a possibility. I had a hard time focusing but when my eyes opened and I saw it was still her, I responded with a matched intensity, pulling her to me to join me on the bed.

What had gotten into her? Not that I was complaining, or that I could stop what was happening between us as the growing desire between us seemed to have a life of its own.

I let myself be directed and positioned as she divested me of my clothing and was surprised when she swatted away my hands as I tried to do the same to her. “Uh-uh,” she murmured. “You first,” and she proceeded to tickle my chest with her mouth, planting a line of kisses down my sternum straight to her desired target.

Mmm, this was mmm, so good.

I had long since realized this was a dream, a dream I was not yet ready to leave. Hovering between oblivion and mindfulness, I fought against the logic and rationale that was slowly dragging me towards consciousness. My efforts were futile as slumber slowly took leave of my body. Still the sensation of euphoric bliss was not retreating but rather was heightening and I roused from sleep to discover it was no dream.

What had started as a bizarre meditation of my subconscious mind, had a base in reality. I was really in Pam’s bedroom, in her bed and she was buried below the covers waking me up with her mouth and her tongue and her hands.

Still woozy from sleep but quickly coming to, I swelled beneath her undulating movements and found myself unable to exert my regular self-control. My low moans intensified while my restraint rapidly declined. Gasping with agitated bliss, I knew I wouldn’t last long, but I wanted her to join me in my climax. I gently pulled her up to me and quickly spun her to her back, working my hands swiftly along her satin-clad body, lifting her nightgown over her head to explore her body with my own lips and tongue, pressing against her body so I could ready her to join me. When my frenzied rapture reached the brink of containment, I removed the only thing left on her delicate frame and our bodies came together with mere seconds to spare. I had hoped to last a little longer, hoped to bring her to my state before I exploded, but the unexpected, morning activity took me by surprise. But hey, it was my birthday. And a very happy birthday it was starting out to be.

“Surprise,” she said as we came apart. “Happy Birthday.”

I kissed her as I slowly rolled onto my back, “that was quite a present. I thought I was dreaming, well I was dreaming until I wasn’t. What got into you?”

“I wanted to start off your day extra special. After last night’s game, a little cheering up was in order. Besides, who knows what’s in store for you at the office? God only knows what unplanned mayhem might occur today. I figured I’d get your birthday off to a good start before the craziness begins.”

Thinking about things unplanned, I was a little bit concerned that our unplanned intimacy, might result in an unplanned birthday in nine months and though there was no doubt in my mind I wanted children, and wanted them with Pam, it was still a little bit too soon for that. I wanted her all to myself for a little bit longer. We still had many relationship milestones to reach before we were ready for that one.  We were usually much more careful but lately we’d been taking risks with birth control.

Pam didn’t seem to be worried, perhaps she was putting more stock into the rhythm method than we were taught to in our high school health class.  I followed her lead this morning and put it out of my mind too to let myself savor this first milestone, my first birthday with Pam. It was off to a very good start.