“I've got everything under control,” Jim told her, giving her a playful push toward the door. “Go get comfortable in the living room and I'll bring you dessert when it's ready.”

Pam leaned back against him, her face raised toward his. “I thought you were dessert,” she grinned.

He couldn't resist kissing the tip of her nose. “Go,” he instructed her again, “or you will get nothing. No dessert and no me.”

Pam laughed but headed toward the living room. “Oh right, I'd like to see you try and stop me from getting either.”

Pam plopped down on the couch, the effects of two and a half glasses of wine partially responsible for her flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes. The rest of that honor went to the fact that she was just happy. Had there ever been a time in her life where she felt this content? Today marked four months since the day Jim came back from New York and walked straight into her arms, and neither could deny that it had been the best four months of their lives.

As she sat waiting, she pulled a square leather ottoman towards her. She discovered its secret storage compartment when she accidentally kicked the lid open as she was putting her feet up on it. Curiosity getting the better of her, she peeked inside. She grinned, as it was apparent that what had previously been on his coffee table before her arrival had been swept inside the ottoman. Unopened junk mail, yesterday's newspaper, and an outdated TV Guide sat on top of the pile, with a stack of magazines visible below. Pam reached in and grabbed a handful of them. She'd never taken much notice of magazines around his apartment before. What has Jim Halpert been reading?

Sports Illustrated was no surprise. She probably would have been shocked if she hadn't found it. A copy of Men's Health was tease-worthy, but without a subscription label it was probably just a one time purchase. She continued to dig for more incriminating choices, like maybe a House Beautiful or GQ. The one thing she did not expect to find, however, was the very thing she now held in her hands - pornography. Not Playboy either, with its highbrow approach of mixing culture and politics between the photo spreads of naked women. No, this was something called Boink Magazine, and from just a quick glance Pam could tell there was no wasting of pages for things like celebrity interviews or movie reviews.

“I'm going to wash some of these dishes while the plates cool,” Jim called from the kitchen, causing Pam to practically jump out of her skin. “It'll be just a few more minutes, okay?”

“Um, sure,” she replied, a little too loudly for her own ears. Her first instinct was to shove the magazines back in the ottoman and pretend she never saw them. That's certainly what the old Pam would have done - tuck them away and try not to think about the implications.

She remembered that Roy had kept porn magazines, but for some reason finding that Jim had them didn't irritate her the way it had when she found out about Roy's. In fact, if anything, it intrigued her. If she was being honest, it gave her a little thrill. Maybe it was because he just didn't seem the type. Maybe it was because she thought she might learn a little more about what he liked. She put two of the magazines on the seat next to her, and started leafing through the third one. Maybe she'd even find something she'd like to try. She was Fancy New Beesly after all, and so far Jim had always seemed more than eager to please her.

“Okay, these should be cool enough to eat now,” Jim announced, walking into the room with two ceramic bowls and spoons. She was so engrossed in her find that she didn't hear Jim come in until he spoke. When she looked up, his expression was a combination of shock and embarrassment, and to Pam's amazement, a little bit of fear.

“What are you doing?” He asked, his voice cracking on the last word. He continued to stand in front of her, the bowls and spoons still in his hands.

She closed the magazine, his discomfort making her want to giggle. “I kicked open the ottoman by accident. I was curious to see what magazines you had.” She raised her eyebrow at him. “Quite an interesting collection you have here, Jim.”

He placed the desserts on the table and finally sat down on the couch. “Yeah, well,” he sighed loudly. “Wow. This isn't awkward. I don't suppose you'll believe they aren't mine.”

Pam smiled. “Why wouldn't they be yours?”

Jim met her gaze and she saw him blush. “You know, and this evening was going so well.” He reached over to take them off the couch and Pam put her hand on top of his.

“I'm still looking at those.”

“No, you're not.”

“Yes,” she laughed, pulling the magazines away, “I am.”

“Pam,” he grimaced. “I'd really rather you didn't.”

“Why not?”

Jim didn't answer her immediately. He looked around the room as if he were contemplating escaping, then sighed again, running both hands through his hair. “I'm not sure why are you making such a big deal about them,” Jim mumbled.

Pam inched next to him. “I'm not the one making a big deal about them. I'm just curious about your reading habits.”

“Right.”

“So what exactly attracted you to -” she pointed to the title on the cover, “Boink Magazine?”

Jim shook his head. “Will you please stop?”

“Am I embarrassing you?”

“Oh, I don't know,” Jim replied sheepishly, “You think?”

“Why? I did have some suspicion you like women. It's not a stretch to think that includes naked women.”

“It's not like that.”

“You don't like naked women?” Pam asked with as much innocence as she could muster.

Jim couldn't help but smile despite himself. “Well, there is one particular naked woman I really like,” Jim ogled.

“You know what I mean,” she chided him, her cheeks burning at his innuendo.

“Not indiscriminately, no. And I don't exactly make it a habit of buying those types of magazines.”

“It didn't occur to me that you did.”

“In fact those are the only three copies of any porn magazine you'll find in this house.”

“More of a video man, hmm?” She teased, leaning into him.

Jim let out a bark of laughter. “Where is this coming from? I hate to disappoint you, but I'm afraid I don't have a secret life full of forbidden sexual perversion.”

Pam glanced down at the magazines she was still holding. “So you think pornography is perverted?”

“Well, maybe not perverted,” he admitted. “Not all of it, anyway. It's just not something I feel the need to indulge in usually.”

“But sometimes?” Their eyes met, and both of them knew the conversation had turned from teasing to something more serious. Jim felt his pulse start to race.

“You really want to know?” he asked quietly.

“Yes, I do.” She nodded. “I want to know everything about you.”

Jim stretched his legs out, rubbing his hands against his thighs. “Wow. Okay,” he said. Jim licked his lips, glancing only briefly at Pam. “Yeah, sometimes, I guess. But to be honest, not in a while.” He threw tentative grin in her direction. “Certainly not for several months, anyway.”

“I'm not sure where you would have found the time,” she teased.

“Exactly,” he nodded, his grin widening. “It's really more of a last resort, and a poor substitute at that.”

“I know what you mean,” she replied.

“Oh, you do?” Jim nudged her with his elbow. “And which magazines will I be finding in your bedroom?”

“None!” She laughed. “I was agreeing more with the idea that anything less than what you really want is a poor substitute.”

“Uh-huh,” he replied, clearly unconvinced. He took one of the magazines off her her lap. “To be completely honest, I usually don't even buy these types of magazines. Mark sent this one to me when I first moved to Stamford.”

“The masturbation issue?” She said, reading the cover's headline.

“It was his idea of a joke,” Jim replied, rolling his eyes. “Given what had happened, um, between us. At the time. And how I was now living alone in Connecticut.”

Pam noticed Jim was blushing again. “I bet you must have found it hysterically funny,” she said dryly. She slipped her arm through his and pressed a kiss against his bicep.

He smiled slightly. “Yeah, except I think that might not have been what I told him.”

Pam giggled. “And did he send these other two issues as well?”

“No,” he said slowly. He shifted his back toward the arm of the sofa so he could look at her more easily. “I bought them.”

“Oh.”

“When I eventually looked at the issue Mark sent,” he continued, “I saw that the pictures were of real people, not porn stars or airbrushed models or anything. That made it slightly more appealing.”

“I wish I had known this before,” she said. “I wouldn't have been so worried about our first time had I known you had standards that didn't extend to the impossible.”

He frowned. “You're joking, right?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head adamantly. “I'm not. I was so self-conscious when we finally started dating. I mean, it's not like every girl I ever saw you go out with wasn't gorgeous.”

Jim stroked her cheek. “You're insane. You know that, right? That first night all I could think about was how you were the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.”

It was Pam's turn to blush. “Shut up.”

“I mean it. And I still think that.” He leaned down and kissed her softly. “You know I mean it.”

“So did you learn anything from these?” She asked, obviously attempting to change the subject. Jim took the magazines out of her hands and put them on the coffee table.

“Maybe,” he grinned before kissing her again. He felt much better being the one doing the teasing.

“You want to show me?” She asked, her eyebrow raised challengingly.

Jim shook his head and laughed. “Well, you should probably at least try the dessert first. I did spend ten minutes making it.”

Pam had completely forgotten about dessert, and turned her attention to the bowls on the table. “Oh my God, Jim. Is that crème brûlée?” She quickly moved to the floor to sit at the coffee table. “You made this?”

Jim joined her. “Well, I took it from the box and sprinkled the sugar on and put it under the broiler. So if that's 'making it', then yes I did.”

“Hey, it takes skill not to burn the sugar,” she said, cracking the hard topping and putting a large spoonful of sugar and custard in her mouth. “Mmmmm,” she practically groaned, “this is wonderful.”

Jim laughed. “It's not that big a deal, Pam. I bought it in the frozen foods section of Giant.”

“It is a big deal. You know how much I love it. I consider crème brûlée to be 'our' dessert.”

“I know. Which is why it was appropriate to make for our anniversary.”

“Indeed,” she enthused, spooning more of the sweet, creamy dessert into her mouth. “Do you remember the first time I had you try it?”

Jim nodded. “We had it that night at Patsel's.” Their eyes met and Pam scooted closer to him.

“That was quite a night,” she sighed, nudging her shoulder against his. Jim leaned back against the couch, putting his arm around her to pull her closer.

“Just the best night of my life,” he replied, kissing her. What had started as a dinner date to jokingly celebrate their first week together ending up being the night Pam didn't go home. And they hadn't looked back since.

Pam dropped her spoon on the table and curled up warmly around him. “I seem to remember we didn't finish dessert that night either,” Pam murmured.

The drive to Pam's apartment was a silent one. Despite six months as a couple, there were still times when talking to each other was the hardest thing in the world to do. Old habits die hard, and when faced with conflicting opinions, Pam and Jim often found that avoidance was the immediate response, even as they both knew it was the wrong one.

Jim pulled into a parking space and turned off the engine. He waited for a signal from her that he should come in. He loved her more than anything, but when she slipped into one of her darker moods he knew the best thing to do was not to push. She was after all still one of the most sensible people he knew. She wouldn't close him out for very much longer. He just wished their Saturday hadn't gotten off to such a disappointing start.

He knew Pam was still sensitive when it came to the subject of his past relationships, especially when the name of Karen Filippelli was mentioned. This morning the entire office had been forced to attend a 'Team Building Exercise' at Nag Auy Park. As it was an early Saturday morning, Andy Bernard had arrived seriously hung over and in a mood to share his misery with others. His target was usually Jim, and his topic of conversation was Karen.

It didn't help that Andy not only blamed Jim Halpert for Karen's departure (a mostly true charge), he also resented him for then taking Pam out of circulation. Andy had spent considerable time attempting to wear down Pam's resistance, and in Andy's eyes, when Jim told him he should ask Pam out, that meant Jim had rescinded any rights to do so himself. No one had ever accused Andy of being the logical one in the group.

So Andy started out with a little innuendo about how Jim and Pam might have spent Friday night. Then when that got no real response, Andy starting asking Jim to compare his old girlfriend to his new one. As the questions got more provocative and personal, Jim hid his irritation and tried to ignore Andy, pawning him off with noncommittal answers and blandly agreeing to the most ridiculous assumptions. Unfortunately Jim never had the chance to reassure Pam that he was just saying things to shut Andy up, and as a result she started to feel a bit slighted by his lack of running to her defense. Michael's increasingly impossible tasks as the morning progressed only darkened her mood further, so by the time it was all over, Pam was giving most people the silent treatment, Jim included.

As they continued to sit in the car, Pam finally sighed. “I know you think I overreacted this morning.”

“I didn't say that,” Jim replied.

“But you do think that.”

“I think it was a difficult morning made worse by the people we had to be with.” Jim mirrored Pam's sigh. “And Andy was being a much bigger ass than usual. I said what I did because I was just hoping he'd leave me alone if I didn't let him know that what he was saying bothered me.”

Pam looked over at him, realization dawning. “I'm such an idiot.”

“No, you're not.” Jim felt the tension in the car already starting to lift. “I should have said something to you.”

“You shouldn't have to. We've been together for six months. I shouldn't be so insecure.”

“What you shouldn't do is be so hard on yourself,” he said, reaching over to take her hand. “Just because we're together doesn't mean we can always read each other's mind. It's no surprise to me that we still aren't exactly pros at the talking stuff.”

Pam let out a short laugh and squeezed his hand. “No, we seem to put that energy into other endeavors.”

“Wow,” Jim laughed. “Once again Pam Beesly descends into the gutter talk.”

Pam opened up the car door. “Come on,” she told him. “Let's go inside and try and erase this morning from our minds.”

“That sounds like the best idea I've heard all day.”

Pam decided that the first thing she needed to do was shower. “You want to join me?” She asked, standing in the bathroom door way clutching her robe and some towels.

“Is that a serious question?” Jim grinned. “I'll be there in a minute.”

He heard the sound of the running water as he walked into Pam's bedroom. He peeled off his t-shirt and threw it on top of the laundry pile in the corner of the room, then walked over to her dresser to take off his watch and pull his cell phone and wallet out of his pockets. He undid his belt and the button fly on his jeans and let them fall loosely to his ankles. As his pants dropped he heard the sound of coins hitting the hardwood floor.

“Dammit,” he said, kicking his jeans off. He'd forgotten he'd shoved the change from the morning's coffee purchase into his back pocket. He knelt down, picking up the coins. He took a moment to look under the bed for any that might have rolled, and found a nickel and a quarter. He also did a double take when he discovered a small collection of books under there as well.

The first title that caught his eye was the book at the bottom of the stack, a thick hardcover entitled The Complete Illustrated Kama Sutra. Intrigued he pulled it toward him, only to see three additional paperbacks stacked on top of it from top to bottom:

Tickle His Pickle, Your Hands-On Guide To Penis Pleasing,
Tickle Your Fancy: A Woman's Guide to Sexual Self-Pleasure, and
The Modern Kama Sutra: The Ultimate Guide to the Secrets of Erotic Pleasure

Jim reached for the top book, feeling both a pang of guilt for getting into Pam's stuff as well as an undeniable rush of excitement at the subject matter. Not too different from the feelings a young boy who stumbled upon his father's collection of Playboy magazines might have. Jim also thought the room had gotten decidedly warmer.

Tickle His Pickle was exactly what it sounded like, and Jim couldn't help feel aroused as he glanced through it, wondering how long Pam had been reading this book and what, if any, ideas she'd taken away from it. As he continued to page through it, he could see more than a few suggestions he knew he'd certainly be open to. He was so engrossed in the book that he didn't even notice that more than ten minutes had passed or that the sound of running water had stopped.

“Hey, where did you disappear to? I thought you were going to join me...” Pam walked into the bedroom, coming to a halt when she saw Jim sitting on the floor, surrounded by her books. “What are you doing?”

Jim's head snapped up at the sound of her voice, and he flushed guiltily. “I dropped some coins under the bed,” he began, well aware of how lame that sounded, even to him. “And, uh, I found these....” He gestured to the books in front of him, still holding the copy of Tickle His Pickle with his finger bookmarking the page he was reading. When he realized this fact, he dropped the paperback as if it has just burned him.

“I can see that,” Pam replied. “I'm glad you seem to be enjoying them.” She quirked her eyebrow, her amusement plainly visible. Jim followed her gaze and quickly realized she was staring at the erection that was pushing against the knit fabric of his boxer briefs.

“Well, that's just an unsolicited reaction, I swear,” he replied quickly, “given my surprise at the subject matter.” She continued to just stand there, which made Jim a bit nervous. She didn't look angry or upset, but he couldn't be sure. “I really wasn't snooping,” he continued, stacking the paperbacks on top of the other book. “If you prefer I can just put them back and pretend I never saw them.”

Pam shook her head, and tightened the belt of her robe. She then sat down on the floor across from him. “There's no reason to do that,” she said softly. “I wasn't hiding them from you. I keep them out of sight mostly because I do have parents that visit, you know. Not a conversation I really want to be having with them.”

Jim nodded. “Yeah, I can understand that.” They fell silent for a moment, each wrestling with the problem of what they should ask, what they should say about the discovery. Pam kept her eyes on Jim, but he seemed determined to look everywhere but at her. She waited for him to say more, but when he didn't she knew she needed to speak, to try and find out what he was thinking.

“I have to admit I have wanted to show them to you for a little while now,” she said. “But I wasn't exactly sure how to introduce the idea.”

Jim's eyes widened at her admission, and he gave a short laugh. “No, I imagine that would be a difficult one. I mean, most people don't expect there to be a manual on how to have sex conveniently waiting under the bed. I suspect it could make things awkward, people thinking the have to do things by the book.”

Pam frowned slightly. “That's not what they are.”

“No?” Jim quizzed, picking up one of the books. “The Modern Kama Sutra: The Ultimate Guide to the Secrets of Erotic Pleasure . No, that doesn't sound like an instruction manual at all.”

Pam couldn't help giggling. “Well, okay, maybe that one is more of a how-to manual. But some of those positions really do need instructions!”

Jim smiled slightly and set the book back down. “When did you buy these?”

“Different times. The Kama Sutra ones I bought sometime after Diwali, but the other ones I picked up sometime last summer. Sort of like a present to myself for my new radically altered lifestyle.”

Jim glanced sheepishly up at her. “So you weren't trying to tell me something by buying these?”

“Besides the obvious idea that I wanted to have sex with you even though you were over a hundred miles away?”

“No, I mean now.” Jim paused. “Is there something I should be doing differently?”

Pam moved closer, so close that their bare knees touched as they sat cross legged in front of each other. “That's not what those are about at all,” she smiled, reaching for his hand. “I have absolutely no complaints about you.”

Jim began to relax under her encouragement. “You're sure?”

“Yes,” she nodded emphatically. “If anything you should take it as the compliment it is.”

“And how is that, exactly?”

“Well, think about it,” she grinned saucily, “I wouldn't have wanted to show these to you if I didn't think you were up to the challenge.”

“Wow.” They kept their eyes on each other as the awkwardness started to dissipate between them. “I hope I'm up for it.”

“I hope so too,” she grinned.

“Nice,” he grumbled, pulling her onto his lap. “I still have a question though.”

“What's that?” She smiled up at him as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“What the hell is Diwali?”

After a few moments of affection that made both of them feel better than they had all morning, Pam snuggled up against Jim and began to describe how Kelly had invited the whole office to the Indian celebration, and how Michael took it upon himself to hold a meeting on all the things he considered important in Indian culture. Which was to say that he missed the point entirely. Jim was amazed, even considering that this was Michael.

“So Michael really had a meeting on the Kama Sutra?”

“Absolutely. It was one of the days I really missed you the most.”

“Oh, really?”

“Not like that!” She elbowed him. “There was just so much potential for taking the meeting right out of his hands, but no accomplice I could trust to follow through.”

Jim thought this over. “Maybe I should just tell him how sorry I am that I missed that presentation. You know, see if he's open to an encore performance.”

“You'd have to get the pamphlets from Toby. He confiscated them after Angela complained.” She pointed to the book on the floor. “That's why I had to buy that.”

“Oh, had?” Jim mocked. “You had to purchase your own copy? It was that necessary?”

“Well, yeah,” Pam replied. “I didn't get a chance to read it all.”

“So you bought a copy for educational purposes.”

“Of course.” She feigned indignation. “What are you suggesting, Jim?”

“I'm not sure,” he replied smoothly, “I haven't had a chance to look inside the book yet.”

Pam slid off his lap and handed him the large book. “By all means, knock yourself out.”

As Jim picked up the hard backed book and opened the front cover, a sheet of linen drawing paper fell out from between the pages. It landed in Jim's lap, the sketch on it facing up. It was an unfinished portrait of a man seated at a table, his eyes looking somewhere far away. Even in its incomplete state there was no denying it was a drawing of Jim. A date penciled in the corner revealed it had been done shortly after his arrival back in Scranton.

“Oh!” Pam gasped, reaching for the paper. “I forgot that was in there.”

Jim picked the drawing up and held it out of her reach. “Just wait a minute. I'm not done looking at it.”

Pam leaned back against the bed, drawing her knees up and pulling her robe tighter around her. She watched anxiously as he studied the sketch. It was one thing to have him find her collection of sex books, but her drawings were deeply personal. She remembered how lonely she'd felt when she started that sketch, and it wasn't a feeling she was eager to relive. After a few minutes of silence Jim looked up, his eyes dark and serious.

“This is amazing,” he said. “Did I really look that haunted when I came back?”

“You certainly looked different,” she replied. “But it's not impossible that I was projecting my feelings there as well.”

He went quiet again and looked at the drawing. “I'm sorry,” he finally said, looking back up at her. “I know now what a hard that time you were having, too.”

Pam nodded. She wanted to return to their lighter mood so she picked up one of the paperbacks. “But at least I had my Woman's Guide to Sexual Self-Pleasure here to get me through.”

“Shut up,” Jim replied, clearly flustered at her comment.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” she teased, “did you not know that women do that too?”

He took the book from her hand and put it back down on the pile. “Moving right along,” he said, clearing his throat. Pam laughed loudly, which only served to make Jim continue to blush.

Jim focused on placing the sketch carefully back into the book from which it had fallen. “And I am not even going to ask which page you had originally put it on,” he continued, an embarrassed smile slowly emerging, “Because it would probably just scare me.”

“You need to open your mind to the possibilities, Jim,” she teased. “Besides, I don't think it was tucked into a particular page.” Pam stood up and stretched, then moved to lie down on the bed.

“Is it nap time?” Jim asked.

“No,” she laughed. “I just wanted to be more comfortable. You don't have to stay down there, you know.”

“I can take a hint, even when it's that subtle,” he joked. Jim climbed up onto the bed, stretching out and lying down on his side to face her. As he put his arm around her waist and pulled her closer, Pam offering no resistance. Jim brushed back the hair from her temple and placed a small kiss there.

“I'm not really sure what to say about all this,” he mused, his fingers still entangled in her hair. “Here I thought you were a natural talent.”

“Oh, those books are filled with good suggestions. And while you can certainly pick up some skills from them, I assure you the talent is all mine.” She gave him a look that dared him to contradict her.

“That's very good to know,” he replied, “and I suppose the only option I have as a good boyfriend would be to tell you that you can feel free to call on me if you ever need to get some practice in on those skills.”

Pam couldn't contain her amusement any longer. “You are such a dork,” she gasped between burst of laughter.

“And you clearly need to work on your sexy talk.”

“Dork doesn't do it for you?”

Jim tilted his head, as if to consider the question.

“I've heard better,” he concluded.

“Really? What did Karen call you?”

The look on Pam's face made it evident she was as surprised as he was by what she's just said.

“Wow. Are we comparing notes now?”

“No. Never mind. I didn't mean to say that.” Even after all these months, the specter of Karen Filippelli could still quickly alter Pam's mood, and usually for the worse.

Jim leaned over her, not wanting a simple slip of the tongue to ruin what was turning into a very rewarding conversation. He nuzzled his face down around her neck and ear. “Let's just say I'm more interested in anything you'd call me. It's not what you're saying that gets me - it's what I know you mean.”

“And what do I mean exactly?”

“That you love me and you can't live without me.”

“Wow, you do speak Dork.”

“Almost as well as you do.”

Before Pam could respond with a suitable retort, Jim placed his mouth over hers, reminding Pam there was a language he spoke even better than Dork. His hand reached down and pulled at the belt of her robe until it gave way. He pushed her robe open, intent on the pleasure of skin pressed against skin. Pam accepted his kisses enthusiastically, and returned his desire to be closer without reservation. They were well past the point of simple kissing when Jim pulled back.

“Something wrong?” Pam asked.

“No, I was just thinking,” he replied, the hand he had against her hip brushing slowly over her skin. “You've had those books for a while now, right? I mean, you didn't buy them because of me.”

“Well, that's not entirely true.” She brought her hand up to his jaw, fingers grazing the stubble he had neglected to shave off before their morning meeting. “We weren't together at the time, that much is true. But who do you think I imagined as my partner when I was reading them?”

“True. Good.” He looked pleased at her reply and tentatively licked his lips. “But what I'm thinking is that you've had a reasonable amount of time to read them. So I suppose you probably already have some thoughts on which ideas would be the most, um, interesting.”

Her eyes sparkled. “I might,” she grinned. “Why?”

“I was just going to offer that if you wanted to share those thoughts, or show me what you found interesting, well....” Jim seemed to be losing his grasp on the English language, but Pam found him too adorable to show him any mercy.

“Yes?” She prompted.

“I'd be open to your suggestions,” he finished. The blush that had started on his cheeks was now visible over his shoulders and chest as well.

“Was there a particular book you had in mind?” She asked.

“Well, I only had a chance to glance through the one,” he replied.

“You mean Tickle His Pickle?” Pam couldn't stop a slight giggle from escaping.

“That is the worst title of a book ever,” Jim grimaced. “But yeah, that one.”

Pam ran her thumb over his lower lip, and thought Saturday might turn out to be a good day after all. “Well lean down and grab the book,” she told him, “and I'll see what I can find.”

 

 

It was another Monday morning, and as usual they were running a little late for work. Pam walked into the bedroom towel drying her hair, only see Jim standing in front of the dresser drawer he'd claimed months ago. Well, one of the two drawers closing in on three by this point. His hair was barely dry, and he still had a towel wrapped firmly around his waist.

He was staring oddly at a handful of fabric he held in his hand. “Hey, what are these?”

She walked over to him, the fresh smell of soap and deodorant encouraging her to stand close. She put her hand on the arm hold the offending material. “It's underwear, Jim. Boxer briefs to be exact. I thought you'd seen some before.”

“Funny. I got that part. But these aren't mine.”

“Yes they are. I bought them for you this weekend.”

“Pam, they're red.”

“I know, aren't they great?”

Jim frowned. “You bought me red underwear.”

“You don't sound happy.”

“I'm just a little confused.”

“Why? You put them on just like every other pair you own.”

“See, that's the thing. I don't own red underwear.”

“Well, now you do.”

“Have we met? When have you ever seen me in a pair of boxer briefs that weren't blue, black or grey?”

“I just figured you'd never seen them.”

“Oh, I have,” he rolled his eyes. “Believe me, I have. And this may surprise you, but I'm not really a red underpants kind of guy.”

“So what are you saying?”

“That I appreciate the gesture, but.....”

“Wait. Are you rejecting my gift?”

He crossed his arms over his chest “How can I put this nicely? Yes. Yes, I am.”

“Oh, come on, now. Live a little.”

“I assure you I can live just as well not in red underwear.”

“That's not fair,” Pam pouted. “What about me?”

He handed them to her. “I never say you couldn't wear them.”

She pushed his hand away. “That's not what I mean and you know it.”

“Ah, so that's what's this is about. This gift really isn't for me at all.” Jim grinned. “This is all about you and your perversities.”

Pam couldn't help but laugh. “Jim, if this is what you'd call perverse, you really have lead a sheltered life.”

Jim stepped back and sat down on the side of the bed. “So tell me about this fantasy of yours, Beesly.”

Pam leaned back against the dresser to face him. “I hate to disappoint you, but it's not very complicated. I'd just like to see you wear them.”

Jim considered this, then sighed dramatically. “I guess I could wear them. Maybe next weekend.”

“I guess I wasn't clear enough,” Pam added, moving to sit right next to him. “I want you to wear them to work.”

He immediately shook his head. “Shut up.”

“I'm serious!”

“You know what kind of crap I would get if anyone knew I was wearing these at work?”

“How would anyone know? Do you have a habit of flashing your underwear to Michael or Dwight?”

“Not usually on purpose, but if someone were to walk in while I was in the bathroom?”

“You think no one in our office wears red underwear?”

“Among the guys? No way.” Jim paused. “Wait. Maybe Creed. But I'm not sure I really want to be included in any group he's in.”

“I bet you're wrong.”

“Why? Who gives out 'I'm wearing red underwear' vibes to you?”

Pam thought a moment. “Stanley,” she said with conviction.

Jim laughed loudly. “You're insane.” As he stood back up, Pam grabbed the hem of his towel, successfully pulling it off him. “Hey!” He complained.

“You're not being fair,” Pam replied.

Jim retaliated by pushing her back on the bed, and pinning her underneath him. “How am I not being fair?” he asked, soon tugging away the belt of her terry bathrobe so skin touched skin.

“It's such a little request that would make me happy.”

Jim rested his weight on his arms as he leaned over her, his hair falling into his eyes. He dipped his head until their foreheads lightly touched. “I was under the impression that as recently as earlier this very morning I was making you happy. Very happy, in fact.”

She grinned up impishly. “That was an hour ago, Halpert. What have you done for me lately?”

“Wow.” He pulled back in mock shock. “When did you become Janet Jackson?”

She giggled, entwining her fingers up around his neck and pulling him back down for a kiss. Or three. “Come on, Jim,” she coaxed. “Sitting at my desk knowing what's underneath that suit? That would totally help me survive the day.”

“In another words, you just want a reason to ogle me all day.”

“Well, I didn't know I really needed a reason,” she smiled. “But I'm sure it will keep me in a good mood. And it that just might bode well for you tonight.”

“Bribery, Beesly,” he sighed. “I can't believe you are now trying to get me to agree to this with bribery.”

“Is it working?”

He stared down into her laughing eyes. “Maybe,” he grinned, kissing her again. “But you better make this worth my while.”

 

==

 

 

Pam hadn't stopped smiling since they entered the office, indiscreetly fifteen minutes late for work. Again. The only reason they'd avoided a public scolding from Dwight was that he'd been shut up in Michael's office. Jim noticed Angela scowling in their direction, but he just smiled and nodded at her, and she turned back to her desk with an audible huff.

It was mid-morning before Pam had a chance to talk to Jim alone. She followed him into the break room, and as he stood before the soda machine dropping in his coins she walked up behind him. “So when I can I see them?”

 

He looked over his shoulder at her. “See what?”

She wrapped her finger around his back belt loop and tugged gently. “The goods,” she replied, her eyebrows wagging suggestively.

“You're not,” he smirked.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“Why not?”

“I believe the request was for me to wear them, not for you to get to see them at work.”

She kept her hold on his belt loop, and put her other hand on her hip, scowling up at him. “Then how do I know you're really wearing them?”

Jim shrugged as he turned to put the rest of his change in. “Well, Pam, I guess you're just going to have to trust me.” He hit the button for grape soda.

As Jim leaned over to claim his can, Pam let go of his belt loop and instead pulled up on the back of his shirt, causing it to become untucked. “Hey!” he replied sharply, jerking away from her while trying to stand up. Pam moved closer, cornering him against the wall and the soda machine, and reached around to pull more of his shirt out. Jim was protesting loudly, and soon they were both laughing, even though neither was backing down.

“What's this?” Michael's voice boomed, startling the two apart. “Is this a tickle game? Can I play?”

“No, Michael, it's not,” Jim said, sounding less than pleased at being discovered by him of all people.

“Are you sure? Pam?” Michael nodded toward her. “I can hold him down if you want me to.”

Pam crossed her arm over her waist, while the hand of her other arm covered her face slightly to help stave off the laughter that threatened to continue. “Um, no thank you, Michael. We were just having a discussion.”

Michael nodded. “Well if you change your mind...” He turned as if to walk out of the room, then quickly pivoted back. “Oh, I almost forgot. I'm leaving at noon today. Jimbo, you'll have the helm.”

Jim nodded and waited for Michael to leave for real before leaning into to Pam. “Nice one there, Beesly,” he teased. “You really need to learn how to control yourself.” He walked from the break room to the men's bathroom, turning back in time to see Pam standing there with her tongue sticking out at him. He winked at her and disappeared inside.

Pam stood there for a moment, determined not to let this one pass. No, she had a plan to get even with him for his teasing. He was being deliberately stubborn in not showing her what he was wearing. He's taken his clothes and gotten dressed in the bathroom after half-heartedly agreeing to wear the red boxer briefs, and then rushed her out the door on the claim they were already late for work. True, they were, but it would have taken less than a minute to see for herself that he was wearing. She had a sneaking suspicion that he wasn't really wearing them at all. She smiled to herself. She knew exactly what she could do to find out for sure.

 

 

To: d.schrute@dunder-mifflin.com

From: p.beesly@dunder-mifflin.com

Subject: Loyalty

 

Dwight,

I am sending you this email because I cannot be sure we won't be overheard if we talk anywhere in the office, and secrecy is paramount. This is very hard for me to talk about, being that it deals with a delicate and awkward subject, but my loyalty to Dunder Mifflin compels me to seek you out.

This will sound like a crazy question, but please bear with me: when you were employed at Staples, did they require you to wear red company underwear? I have read on the internet that this is true, and some things have transpired with Jim that make me wonder if he's been giving some thought to leaving us for them.

For a start, he's been taking phone calls at all hours, then not telling me who called. I overheard him say the name Josh on more than one occasion. Also, he's been complaining about Michael. Then yesterday a package arrived for him in the mail, and inside were 7 pairs of red boxer briefs. He gave me a very guilty look when he saw that I had found them, and stuttered his way through some story about them coming from a college friend as a joke. Frankly, Dwight, I'm worried. If you tell me the Staples underwear requirement isn't true, then I'll have to assume that his suspicious behavior is more likely caused by something other than disloyalty to Dunder Mifflin. Like maybe he has a secret girlfriend or something.

Anyway, I wouldn't ask this of anyone else but you. I know you understand how important it is we know where Jim's loyalties lie. So I'm wondering - the next time you see Jim go into the men's room, can you follow him and find out if he is indeed wearing red underpants? I'm sure Michael would appreciate your help as well, but for the meantime let's just keep this concern between you and me.

Thanks,

Pam

By the time Pam had sent off her email, Jim was seated back at his desk. She picked up the can of Coke off her desk and walked over to his. “Here,” she said, placing it next to his monitor, “A little peace offering for the ruckus earlier.”

He looked at the Coke can and then up at her. “Trying to buy my affections?” He grinned as he took a swig of his grape soda.

She leaned against his desk. “I'm just sorry if I embarrassed you in front of Michael.”

Jim rolled his eyes back toward's Michael's office. “Right. Like it's possible to even embarrass oneself in front of Michael.”

“Still, I guess if you don't want to let me have a look at what you're wearing, I shouldn't try to force you.”

Jim tilted his head and stared at her for a moment. “What are you up to, Beesly?”

“Nothing, why?”

“You are being entirely too apologetic. It's so not you.”

“Fine,” she said airily, pushing herself off his desk. “I didn't know it was a crime to be nice to my boyfriend.”

He brushed his hand down her arm as she moved away. “Yeah, right,” he chuckled. She returned to her desk to find a reply from Dwight.

To: p.beesly@dunder-mifflin.com

From: d.schrute@dunder-mifflin.com

Subject: RE: Loyalty

Pam,

I was not privy to the scheme of which you spoke of while I was under employment at that rival company, but then again I left before I was about to be promoted into management. According to Wikipedia, what you described is correct. If he's wearing what you suggest, then he's already gone.

As unpleasant as is your request, I knowledge the reasoning. I will accept your task, and will report back accordingly.

 

Dwight K. Schrute

 

 

 

Pam waited while she watch Jim finish his grape soda, then waited while he opened the Coke she'd left on his desk and started drinking that. She thought he was getting up to use the bathroom twice; twice she tried not to look anxious or expectant. Both times he wandered up to her desk for candy. She took advantage of the view as he walked back to his desk. In the interim Michael left for the day, and things on the whole seemed pretty quiet. Jim then sent her a quick email, inviting her to lunch in the break room. She told him she'd meet him there, then kept a sharp eye as he headed in that direction, in case he made a stop at the restroom. No such luck.

Sighing, she joined him for lunch and for thirty minutes almost forgot she had made a pact with Dwight to find out what Jim was wearing under his pants. When she'd remember she start to smile, then hide the grin quickly before Jim noticed and really started getting suspicious. As they finished their lunch, Jim stood up and tossed his trash away.

“I'm going to run to the bathroom, then I'll see you out there, okay?”

Pam nodded. “I think I should go, too.” As soon as Jim walked into the men's room Pam pulled open the kitchen door and shout-whispered. “Dwight!”

Dwight Schrute was nothing if not prepared. He immediately jumped up and practically ran into the men's room, while Pam made her way back to her desk. She wanted so very much to stay in the kitchen so she could hear what happened, but she didn't want to give anything away. She was going to play it as straight as she could, and hopefully pull off the idea that she had nothing to do with what Dwight had on his mind.

She hadn't even reached her chair when she heard Jim's voice shout, “Dwight, what the hell?!”, followed shortly after by the appearance of a very flustered looking Jim Halpert. Pam sat down quickly and ducked her head below the counter. She was about to start laughing at any moment, and she knew how guilty that would make her look. She couldn't resist peeping up slightly, and in doing so saw Jim staring intently in her direction. As he walked back toward his desk adjusting his shirt tails back into his trousers he called over to her.

“Pam, meet me in Michael's office. I need you to take a memo.”

He'd said the words in the coolest, most professional tone imaginable, but she knew she was in trouble. It didn't stop her from fighting not to grin, though. She picked up a steno pad and a pen and walked out from behind her desk. She glanced over to Dwight, who had by now returned to his desk. He gave her a funny nod and then directed his attention to Jim.

“Hey, you can't use Michael's office.”

Jim turned in the door frame. “Um, considering Michael left me in charge, yes I can.”

With that dismissal Jim started closing the blinds in Michael's office, so by the time Pam entered, it was secluded and dark. He stepped behind her and closed the door, the click of the latch soon followed by the snap of the lock. He didn't bother with the light but instead turned around swiftly and wrapped his arms around her. It was more like an entrapment than an embrace.

“What in the HELL was that all about?” He whispered in her ear.

She turned to face him, though he held on to her tightly. “What?” Pam asked as innocently as she could, but her face broke out into a grin when she could see he wasn't about to have any of it. “What happened?” She giggled.

“Quiet!” He shushed her. “And it's not funny! You know exactly what happened!”

“Tell me anyway,” she replied.

“You want me to relive the nightmare of being manhandled by Dwight??”

She giggled again. “Oh my God, what did he do??”

“What did you send him in there to do, Beesly? And don't even pretend that you didn't.”

She leaned her head against his chest to muffle her laughter. The last thing she wanted was to have Dwight breaking down the door to see what was going on. “I told you I wanted to know if you were wearing the red briefs.”

“So you sent Dwight to go look???” Jim seemed completely shocked at her near confession, even if he'd acted as if he'd guessed as much. “Wow. I am not sure whether to be impressed or question this entire relationship.”

“Oh come on,” she said warmly, “Were the tables turned....”

Jim shook his head firmly, “I would never had resorted to having Dwight stick his hands down your pants.”

“Oh my God,” she repeated, her eyes getting bigger. “Is that what he did?”

“Yeah - not so funny now, is it?” He could help but grin down at her, losing whatever chance he had to act like he was seriously angry with her.

“What exactly happened?”

Jim took a small step back and leaned against the wall, his grasp on Pam still holding. “Well, I was at the urinal when he walked in, and I noticed that he was standing a lot closer to me than normal, even for Dwight. Then I noticed that he was looking down, as if he was trying to see....”

“Oh, gross,” Pam shriveled her nose.

“Thank you, yes it was. So I asked him what he was doing and he said he needed to inspect my underwear.” He raised his eyebrow as Pam made a chortle sound from behind the hand she had against her mouth.

“What did you say?”

“I told him no - what do you think I said??”

“Then what?”

“As I was washing my hands in the sink he stuck his hand in the back of my pants and grabbed at my underwear! That's when you probably heard me shouting at him.”

Pam rested her head on his chest, her shoulders shaking from laughter. “Oh how I wish I could have seen that,” she whispered.

“It's not funny, Beesly. I could have gotten seriously hurt.”

She looked up at him, not at all ashamed of herself. “Then maybe next time I ask to see what your wearing under your trousers you'll let me see.”

“Just one question though,” he said. “How in the world did you get him to agree to do that??”

Pam smiled. “I told him I thought you were defecting to Staples, and that all managers for Staples wore corporate red underwear.”

“And he believed you??”

“Well, he found out that it was true. True via Wikipedia.”

“The same Wikipedia you probably edited moments before talking to him?”

“Maybe.”

He genuinely laughed at that, and ran a hand through his hair. “What am I going to do with you, Beesly?” He asked.

She ran her hand down his tie and stopped at his belt. “Well you could let me take a look now...”

“Pam, we can't.” Jim bit his lip. “Trust me, I did wear them today.”

“I just want to see for myself.”

“And what if someone walks in?” He whispered. “There's a whole office on the other side of that door!”

“Yeah,” she nodded, her fingers already starting to unbuckle his belt, “but I heard you lock the door.”

He continued to stare at her, his amusement evident. He didn't say anything, but he didn't stop her either. He just continued to lean back against the wall, his hands now resting gently on her shoulders. With his belt undone, she unbuttoned his trousers then slowly lowered the zipper. She pulled his shirt out and shot him a smile of satisfaction when she saw that he had been telling the truth. He jumped in surprise when he felt her hand slip inside his pants.

“Pam!” He whispered, “We really can't do this here.”

“I'm just making sure they're real. The cotton is very nice.”

Jim tilted his head back against the wall and shut his eyes. “You are so evil.”

She stepped even closer, delightfully aware of the effect she was having on him. “Yes, and you just hate it so much, don't you?”

“You have no idea,” he replied softly. “I might just have to wear these everyday.” In an instant his hands moved from her shoulders to the sides of her face, and then his was kissing her. Her arms traveled up around his waist, pulling him closer. When they finally parted they both were breathing heavily, and it took a minute for either of them to find their voices.

“We, um, better get back out there,” she finally said.

Jim nodded, slowly dropping his hands from her face. “Yeah, well - you go on ahead. I think I'm going to need a minute.”

===

Three days later, a package was waiting at Jim's front door when he got home from work. The smile he gave to Pam as he handed the box to her made her immediately suspicious that his offer to cook dinner was not entirely philanthropic.

“What is this?” She asked as she sat down at his kitchen table.

Jim handed her scissors to open the box. “Remember our deal? I wore the red thing on Monday, and....”

“Then you could pick something for me to wear,” she interrupted. “Yes, I remember.”

He leaned back against the counter as she peeled off the packing tape. “Well there you are. Hope it fits.”

She glanced up at him, unable to hide her grin. “Why am I so scared?”

“Oh, come on, Pam. You trust me, right?”

“There's trust, and then there's trust. I'd trust you with my life, but I also have no doubt that this will be something entirely inappropriate.”

“Pam, you surprise me. You really do. I thought you valued your life higher than that.”

“Dork.” She grinned again as she pulled packing material out. “You might be fearing for yours if this is a joke.”

“Absolutely not a joke. I totally want you to wear this.”

Pam ripped off the plastic wrap, and pulled out a black and red creation that seemed to be made of nothing but satin and ribbons. “Jim,” she said, her tone a mix of shock and worry. “You can't possibly expect me to wear this to work??”

“Oh, I certainly do. I think tomorrow sounds good, don't you?”