Pam shifted in her seat, a broken spring was digging into her back but this was the only clean part of the upholstery that wasn't threatening to get soot on her skirt.  Besides the obvious pain in her back, she was having a hard time paying attention to the movie.  She was never a big fan of westerns. She had really wanted to see "Rear Window."  Mr. Halpert read about it in the paper that afternoon at lunchtime.

She was quietly sipping her tomato soup from her thermos, being extremely careful not to get anything on her new white sweater.  She had bought it when Roy went on and on about Lana Turner and how Pam needed to wear sweaters.  Pam had never felt more uncomfortable in her life, she'd noticed all day the way the clients that came in to see Mr. Halpert stared at her chest.  After a few hours she considered throwing it away.  But here, having lunch at her desk with Mr. Halpert reading in the leather chair in the corner she thought she needed to give it another chance. 

"This new Hitchcock film sounds pretty neat.  The reviewer called it a ‘masterpiece'." He said, popping his head over the paper to see her.

"Roy and I were planning on going to the drive in tonight."

She tried not to notice the way his face fell. He shook the paper and smiled, "Maybe you should go see the masterpiece ‘Rear Window'."

She surprised herself when she told him, "I'd rather see it with you."

"I like your new sweater," Roy finally noticed from the driver's seat.

"Thank you," she mumbled, keeping her eyes on the screen.  She had a feeling where this conversation was headed.

Sure enough, he scooted over and draped his arm loosely over her shoulder.  He placed a quick kiss on her cheek and settled back in to the seat.  She smiled, finally a nice date with Roy.  But not a moment later she felt his hand snake under the neckline of the sweater.  His fingers grazed her collarbone and traced the top of her brassiere.

She sighed heavily, "Roy please?"  She leaned back toward her door.

"What's the problem?" he asked forcefully.

"We aren't teenagers anymore Roy.  Can't we just watch a movie without necking once?" by the time she reached the end of her question it was almost a whisper.

He flung open his door and jumped out, "You want anything?" he asked as nicely as he could.

"A coke please," she flashed her prettiest smile.

"Sure." He smiled back, his dimples showing.

Some of Pam's best memories involved Roy's dimples.  The way he had smiled shyly when he asked her to go steady.  She wore his letterman's jacket proudly over her shoulders for two years.  In high school she just adored being Roy Anderson's girl.  And one summer he drove her to Philadelphia for a big dance downtown.  Later, they cuddled in the truck and he shakily asked her if she would wear his class ring until he could afford something better.  She cried out of joy and his dimples looked extra adorable in the moonlight.

When they were halfway through with their lunches she excused herself to the powder room to further inspect the sweater for stains.  She checked her hair also, but she told herself it wasn't because of him.

Back at her desk she saw a bottle of coke, a napkin, and a straw in front of her typewriter.  She smiled at him, still in the corner, peeking up from the newspaper. 

"Thank you," she rummaged for her coin purse for a nickel.

"Oh, no please Pam.  The coke is on me." He assured her, setting the paper down.

"Are you sure?" she asked, reluctant to put it back.

"Pam I'm not sure if you know that I'm an important business man.  I throw nickels into the streets for the peons every night.  They are nothing to me. Ha Ha." He winked and headed back to his office.  She twirled the straw in her hands until her stomach had come untwisted.

Roy returned to the car with popcorn and handed her the coke.  His eyes focused on the screen as he shoveled a handful into his mouth.

"Roy," she said quietly, "did you bring me a straw?"

He looked confused, "Uh, no.  I guess I forgot."  Then he turned right back to the screen.

Pam scowled and took a drink.  She got lipstick on the bottle.

At the end of the day she knocked on his doorframe.

"I'm going to go home now.  Can I do anything for you before I leave Mr. Halpert?"

He looked around the room quickly, "No, I think everything is taken care of."

"Ok, well goodnight." She started to go, but turned around, "Can I ask you a question?"

He closed his briefcase and looked up at her, "Of course."

"How did you know? To get me a straw I mean."

He laughed, "My mother always insists on having a straw, so the bottle doesn't taste like lipstick."

She smiled, "Mine too."

"And I guess I noticed that you always have one." He admitted quietly.

"Well, goodnight Mr. Halpert."

"Goodnight Pam."