* * *
She's in the back corner of the warehouse, counting a row of paper clips for the fifth time, when she loses track again. He's nuzzling that spot behind her ear and it feels amazing and she can't concentrate. His strong arms wrap around her from behind, making her feel safe and protected. She would do anything for him at this moment. He somehow knows this, and takes full advantage.
"So I was thinking," he begins, his voice little more than warm breath in her ear. "We should get out of here."
He continues making suggestions in her ear--things he wants to do to her, things she could do for him. She forgets for a minute that they're in the warehouse, surrounded by their co-workers. The drudgery of inventory is a distant memory as the world drops away and all she can think about is the way he's pressing up against her. She nods in agreement because she doesn't trust her voice.
As they head upstairs, hand in hand, she catches Jim watching them from the warehouse floor. His eyes are glassy and dull for a second, but then they go back to the clipboard in his hands. He mumbles something she can't hear to Kevin, perched precariously on a ladder beside him. She thinks she sees his eyes dart back in her direction one more time before she and Roy reach the top of the stairs, but his head doesn't move.
Roy leads her up to the office so she can gather her things. When he takes her coat from the rack, he doesn't hand it to her. Instead, he throws it on the couch next to the door.
"What if I said I didn't want to wait until we got home?" he says, eyebrows raised.
She scoffs. He can't be serious. But he's giving her that look, and she realizes with a mixture of horror and titillation that he's never been more serious in his life.
"Roy, no. Not here."
"Come on, Pammy. You must have fantasized about doing this at some point."
Something low down in her stirs. She's close to approaching that part of her heart that is walled off, protected by a vicious pack of mongrels with names like Fidelity and Conscience. One of them, Guilt she supposes, nips at her heels as she retreats, the whisper of an answer fading before it reaches her lips. "Yes, but not with you."
And Guilt, that bastard, won't leave her alone, so she kisses Roy, a wordless acquiescence.
He fucks her from behind while she leans over her desk. She finds herself getting distracted by to-do notes and things she didn't get done today because of the inventory, things that she needs to put on her list for tomorrow. She's thinking that this was a really bad idea when his hands move from her hips in opposite directions. One skims down, past the front of her bunched-up skirt, then between her slick thighs to stroke her with just the right amount of pressure. The other slips up under her blouse, under her bra, to cup her breast. She's back in it with him. Her knuckles turn white as she grips the desk, letting out a quick little sound that's somewhere between a sigh and a moan. If she lifts her head just a little, she knows she will see Jim's desk. She can't resist, so she does it, and then she's coming. She convinces herself there's no connection between the two events.
Roy finishes not long after, then pulls her up into his arms. "That was awesome," he says, breathless, before adding, "I love you so much, Pam."
The absurdity of the situation begins to sink in as she pulls up her panties and rearranges her skirt. She's just done something reckless and adventurous in this place where she wastes her life away day after day in boring monotony. It's kind of a miracle, and it makes her feel powerful. Roy looks down at her in utter adoration and gives her a mouth-searing kiss. It's been so long since he's kissed her like that, she's forgotten to miss it.
She remembers what it was like when she and Roy were first dating. He was sweet and awkward, always attentive. He would walk around the car to open the door for her instead of reaching across from the driver's seat to unlock it. He would compliment her and pay for things and go to movies he didn't want to see, just to be with her. Every once in a while she gets a glimpse of that Roy again. She thinks that if he could just be like that all the time, she might actually believe it when she tells people she's happy.
* * *
At lunch the next day, she realizes that she has his bologna sandwich instead of her smoked turkey, so she goes down to the warehouse to switch with him. By the time she gets there, he's already eaten. He doesn't understand what the big deal is. It's just a sandwich, he tells her. She reminds him that she hates bologna. He half-heartedly offers to go get her something else, knowing what her answer will be, what her answer always is.
"It's fine," she says.
When she turns away from him, she feels several pairs of eyes on her and notices the other warehouse guys leering in a way that makes her uncomfortable. A couple of them are trying not to laugh. Lonny is elbowing Roy in the arm as if to say, "Attaboy." Under his breath, Roy tells them to cool it, but even he can't keep from smirking. She feels sick to her stomach.
Back upstairs, she sits in the break room and eats bologna, because there's nothing else to do. She wonders if any of her co-workers have been down to the warehouse today. Michael? Or worse yet, Jim? A feeling of panic overtakes her and she worries that he might overhear something. She tries not to think about why it would bother her if he did. A few minutes later, as if summoned by her thoughts, he comes in and joins her for lunch.
"Thought you hated bologna," he says as he sits down at her table, a brown bag in one hand and a soda in the other.
"I do," she says, taking another bite.
"Then... why are you eating it?"
She starts to cry then, salty tears spotting the bread in her hands. Before he can ask what's wrong, she escapes to the ladies' room.
He's still there at the table when she returns ten minutes later. She knows her eyes are red and puffy, but at least she's stopped crying. His lunch sits on the top of the flattened brown bag, untouched. He looks concerned and she can tell that he wants to say something, but he doesn't and she's grateful. When she sits down he puts half of his ham and cheese sandwich in front of her. She takes it with a weak smile. He makes a self-deprecating joke about his lunch habits and does an impression of Dwight that makes her laugh and almost forget. It's nice.
* * *
That night, when Roy reaches for her in the dark, she rolls over to the other side of the bed and pretends she's asleep.
Story Notes:
This was originally going to be the first part of a "Five Things," but I had a hard time writing the other parts, so I've decided to stop trying to force it and just let this stand on its own. I may finish up the last chapter and make this a two-parter, but for now I think this works as a one-shot.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
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