What's the point of living in Pennsylvania if it's going to get so hot?
Granted, it was August. And sure, triple-digit temperatures were certainly not the norm. A powerful heat wave had swept through Lackawanna County like a wild fire, leaving its inhabitants quite uncomfortable. Local weathermen assured their viewers that it would soon dissipate.
But still, Pam thought. If you have to live through several months of bitter cold and snow each year, you should at least have the luxury of fairly mild summers. It's only fair.
She told Jim as much last night. He was not sympathetic to her argument.
"Well Beesly," he said. "It doesn't quite work that way."
She loved it when he called her by her last name. It was hard to explain. In the history human romantic interaction, had a girl ever before wanted her boyfriend to call her by her last name? Maybe "Beesly" was just a silly enough word to make it endearing. Or maybe it was just the fact that Jim was the one who said it. He could call her just about anything and it would put a huge smile on her face.
----
They had spent the previous evening at her place and turned in early. Due to the death of a great uncle, Jim was leaving the next morning to visit family in Pittsburgh. They had both agreed beforehand to make love only once, so that Jim would be well rested for his 5 hour drive.
Of course, when it comes to sex, what Jim and Pam agree on doing and what actually happens are usually very different. By the time they had finished, several hours later, both of them knew that Jim would be drinking lots of coffee the next morning.
When the alarm sounded, he insisted she stay in bed. She initially protested, but fatigue soon took over, and within seconds she had fallen back asleep. It must have been a half hour later when he came to say goodbye, and gave her a kiss just above her barely-opened eyes.
"Wait," she said as he turned to leave. "Just a little something before you go."
A little thank you present, she thought, for letting me sleep in. And for last night. And for everything. She ran her hands up his legs and unbuttoned his jeans.
He was already semi-hard by the time she took him in her mouth.
----
It was 10:17 on a Saturday night, and she was spending it doing laundry. Fancy New Beesly indeed, she thought to herself as she laughed. She didn’t mind. She had a choice for tonight: she could go to Poor Richard’s with a couple of friends, or she could stay home and talk to Jim on the phone for two hours. Guess which one she chose.
Before she was with Jim, Pam didn’t like being naked. She didn’t have an aversion to it, per se. She thought it was just…not scary or silly, exactly. Just unnecessary, at least when one was not bathing. Even when she and Roy made love, she usually just pulled down her panties and inched up her nightgown ever so slightly. It was easier that way, and seemed to speed up the process. After a shower, she would put on a t-shirt and sweats while she got ready for bed . A large towel would suffice for most women. But for Boring Old Pam Beesly? Forget about it.
Good thing she wasn’t that girl anymore. She was wearing only a comfortable pair of cotton underwear, which made the heat almost tolerable (more so that sweats and a t-shirt, anyway). As she unloaded the dryer, she found it surprisingly unpleasant. Not that Pam took a great deal of joy in unloading the dryer, mind you, but she usually enjoyed the feeling of the warm clothes against her hands.
Stupid heat wave. Who wants to put on hot clothes on a scorching night, especially in an apartment with lousy air conditioning? In fact, who wants to wear any clothes at all in such weather?
Hmmmm.
She couldn’t, could she? It’s silly.
Oh, why not? You’re home alone. Live a little.
It’s settled then, she thought to herself. She unhooked her bra, and it fell gently off her chest. She slithered out of her panties and kicked them in the laundry basket.
There.
She imagined Jim giving her silly encouragement. “Right on,” he might have said. “This is America. And if you can’t walk around your own apartment naked, then the terrorists have already won.”
----
What would have been a fairly benign night was turning into a fun little experience for Fancy New Pam Beesly. It wasn’t quite as big a step as walking over hot coals and pouring her heart out to Jim, she admitted to herself, but she was proud nonetheless. It was at least on the level of telling a bartender he got her drink order slightly wrong or demanding that the documentary crew not call her “Pammy”. And that’s not too shabby.
And it felt nice. The summer heat flushing her cheeks, causing her to sweat ever so slightly. The blast of cool air on her bare skin when she walked by the grey oscillating fan in the living room. But most of all, it was the freedom and the newness of it all. She didn’t have a mischievous smile on her face the whole night, but it was pretty close.
There was a full-length mirror in her bedroom. She stared at herself, at her nude body, for a long time. To think, she used to feel self-conscious about her figure. Her breasts were large, her hips were curved. As a teenager, she thought being rail-thin was the ideal. Then she got older, and happily realized men don’t go for that look. The women in Vogue look very different than the ones in Playboy.
She ran her fingers from her thighs, up past her stomach and chest to her neck, and back down again. The cool air from the grey oscillating fan hit her body…and went away…then came back again….then went away. She ran her fingers down her chest again, this time grazing her breasts and nipples. The air from the fan hit her body. It went away by the time she was down to her stomach, just above her mound of pubic hair.
Her eyes were closed by the time her fingers found their way to her inner thigh. “Open your eyes,” Jim would have said. “Look. Watch yourself. It’s so much better that way. Do it for me.”
Her eyes opened. With her left hand, she cupped her right breast. She began pinching and teasing her nipple. Her right hand made its way up her body. Two fingers found a way into her mouth. She started to place her hand back between her legs…
“No,” Jim would say. “Take it slow.”
Her right hand traced down a now familiar path, hopping over her left arm along the way: neck…breast…nipple…stomach…
She couldn’t stand up any longer. She fell back onto her bed, and began to gently swirl around her outer lips. She felt her wetness, and she felt Jim’s gaze. He wasn’t there, but she felt his presence. Her cheeks were flushed, and this time it wasn’t from the heat. She rubbed and teased some more, until she could no longer deny herself.
She entered herself with two fingers, while her thumb circled her clit. She bit her lip. She moaned. Her left hand held onto the top of the headboard. Her body arched up. The cool air from the fan hit her body. She moved her left hand back to her breast, cupping it and squeezing. The cool air went away. Her body arched back down, and she rolled slightly to her left.
She stopped circling her clit, and finally started rubbing it. She thrust her fingers deeper and faster. She felt his touch, his smell. She could even hear the sounds he made. The moans, the sharp exhales, the long, tight breathes that only she would recognize.
She lost time. Her senses were raised, yet she couldn’t hear herself, couldn’t hear how loud she was screaming.
This continued for…minutes? Hours? Days? Years, perhaps. It must have been ages, but it felt like only a few seconds. Or was it the other way around? Did it feel like an eternity had passed in a few brief moments? It didn’t really matter. Seconds bled into minutes bled into her bed bled into the cool air from the fan.
Finally, it was time. Her toes curled. Her fingernails on her left hand dug into her breast. It was time.
Jim.
“Don’t hold back. Let it all out. For me.”
Yes.
“I love you.”
Ohhh yes, Jim. Ohhhhh yes!
----
Silence. But she was still shaking, convulsing involuntarily. The cool air hit her body.
She was panting. Breathing heavily. It sounded a lot like crying, but it wasn’t.
The cool air left her body.
She opened her eyes. She was still now, and her mouth was open. She smiled. She felt his gaze again. She felt his eyes looking at her. She felt his smile as the cool air hit her body again.
She laid there for a long time.
----
She fluffed her pillow and pulled the covers back. After she had finally gotten up, she had made the bed. It’s always nice to lay down to a made bed, not one with sheets and pillows thrown haphazardly about. She slid into bed and turned off the light. She wanted to call him, but it was the middle of the night now. She missed him, but it was okay being alone. Boring Old Beesly was terrified of being alone, so much so that she had a severe aversion to even sleeping in a bed by herself.
Not anymore though.
Tomorrow was Sunday, and she had nothing to do but sleep in. The weather was finally supposed to cool down, and she looked forward to a day alone.
She laid on her side and snuggled with a spare pillow. Pam imagined Jim’s long arms holding her close to him. Fancy New Beesly had a vivid imagination; her imaginary Jim was almost as good as the real thing. Almost. Two more days and he would be home. She smiled. Her eyelids suddenly felt very heavy.
The last thing she felt before falling asleep was the cool air hitting her body.
Author's Chapter Notes:
I own these character because I created The Office. Even the British one. Just kidding. I do NOT own these characters, and this is all just for fun.
Chapter End Notes:
Interesting (but ultimately pointless) fun fact: I almost added an "Arrested Development" reference. Didn't really fit though.
RomanCandle is the author of 7 other stories.
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