Whatever. How that part of it started wasn’t what she ever spent time wondering about, anyway. It was more how the whole idea of it ever started. That time that Jim came home a bit early and found her on the bed with her vibrator between her legs and her phone in her hand, a video of two men servicing one very happy woman probably contributed. The time that they got gin drunk and looked up sexy truth or dare questions online and Jim answered “I mean, yeah, kind of, maybe…” when Pam asked if he’d ever had the desire to have an experience with a member of the same sex also likely had something to do with it. And then maybe just because they were older and had shed any embarrassment that they might have once had when it came to asking for what they want.
So the whole thing of it, then, was informed by many other things. The actual event, though, started on an otherwise mundane Tuesday evening, in the middle of unsexy stuff like dinner and bathtime and homework.
“You’ll never guess who messaged Athlead on Instagram.”
Pam was distracted with making sure Phil’s backpack was completely emptied of Funyun crumbs. “What’s that?”
“We got a pretty interesting DM today.” Jim slung his bag over the back of a barstool and leaned his forearms against the countertop.
“Oh?” Pam was elbow deep in elementary school art assignments and math worksheets, searching for the last of the PB&J crusts that she just knew were lingering at the bottom of the bag. “A big athlete, then?”
“No. Someone we know.”
Satisfied she’d rid her son’s bag of anything that might entice ants, Pam began rearranging the myriad of papers and priceless treasures so that she could fit Phillip’s lunchbox and jacket inside. “Hm. I have to guess, huh?”
Jim smiled at her, tapped his index finger against the granite. “It’s no fun if you don’t play along.”
She considered the possibilities. Probably not someone they knew in Austin: everyone they’d met in their new town had their Texas phone numbers and could contact Jim directly if they needed to. So most likely someone from their past, from Scranton. As she folded Phil’s jacket, she ventured a guess. “Cathy.”
Jim looked puzzled. “Who?”
She shifted her weight and put a hand on her popped out hip in mock indignation. “Your girlfriend! Cathy Simms, my replacement when I was on maternity leave.”
Jim straightened, slid his hands across the counter. She tracked the movement, appreciative of the way his skin looked against the whites and greys of the granite countertop. “Oh, yeah. I think maybe I remember her.”
“Yeah, she only tried to jump your bones in Florida.”
“Hm.” Jim crossed his arms, egregiously putting his forearms on display, the minx. “That period of my life I remember more for my sudden and brief but passionate affair with Dwight.”
Pam’s cheeks burned at the reminder of her hormone-induced jealousy, but she could still tease. “Well, Dwight told me that your erections are too soft, so it was never meant to last.” She smirked, proud of having gained the upper hand.
She kept that upper hand for all of two seconds, right until he reached out with one of those long arms and pulled her to him. He had a literal upper hand (upper-ing right up her shirt, to be exact) and gave her a salacious wink as he ground his very not soft erection against her belly. “Shows what he knows.”
“Jesus, Jim, that was fast.”
“Yeah, well.” He shrugged. “I’ve been half hard all day. Did you know that when you’re asleep, you throw the covers off in the middle of the night?” She nodded, because duh, of course she knew that. “Did you know that at this time of year, the light that comes through the blinds hits your side of the bed perfectly? I have quite a view every morning. Today included.” He punctuated his lechery with a squeeze of her right breast and had his thumb dancing against the top of the cup of her bra when—
“MOOOM! TELL PHIL TO STOP!”
Jim gave another small squeeze and withdrew his hand. Her body followed him, missing his touch while still being pressed against him, and she rested her forehead against his chest in resignation. “I’ve been summoned.” She snaked her hand between their bodies and gave the bulge in his slacks a squeeze of her own. “Make sure this sticks around, hm?”
Later, when they were alone and Jim went above and beyond to prove that he does not, in fact, have issues with the firmness of erections, Pam remembered that he never gave the identity of the mystery messager. She turned to him, nestled her body against his side, traced her fingertip down the center of his chest. Fatherhood had been good to him, turned his lanky frame into one that was less bony angles and more subtle strength. He didn’t always appreciate his ‘dad bod,’ but Pam sure did. She appraised it unabashedly, not even bothering to look him in the face when she asked “so who was it that messaged you guys?”
“Hm?” He sounded sleepy, satiated, the hum of his hm all low and rough and sandpapery. She couldn't help the way her hips undulated towards him at the sound.
“You got an instant message today?”
“Oh, yeah!” He shifted next to her as he reached for his phone on the nightstand. “See for yourself. Yasmin sent me a screenshot of the initial message, since obviously I’m not the one running the instagram. I haven’t responded yet, I wanted to wait and see what you thought.” He swiped through his messages until he found the thread with Yasmin, Athlead’s social media accounts manager. Pam snuggled closer to read the message:
Hey! I’m looking to get in touch with Jim Halpert. We were coworkers, briefly, back when he was still in Scranton. Wanted to catch up and pitch a few ideas that I think Athlead might really benefit from. Might be a long shot reaching out to the company account, but the guy just really doesn’t have much of an online presence, does he? Anyway, just looking to reconnect. Halpert, if you see this, hope to hear from you soon!
Pam squinted her eyes at the screen in an attempt to decipher who the man in the tiny circular profile photo could be before she cast her gaze to the top of the screenshot to check out the name and handle. When she saw it, she thought she’d misread. But no, right up there in black and white was the name Danny Cordray.
“No way!” Jim nodded with a yeah, I know, can you believe it? expression. “Wow. What are you gonna do?”
“I mean, I have to admit that I’m a little intrigued. He doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy to reach out for no reason. I mean, it’s been, what? A decade? Maybe even more than that. So part of me feels like he’s got something good.”
Pam twisted away to grab her own phone. “I’m gonna stalk him a bit. Maybe there’s a clue on his insta. Did you guys check at all?” Jim shook his head and Pam rolled her eyes. “Seriously? I mean, I know that you know nothing all about being an internet detective, but I expected better from Yas.” Pam pulled up Instagram and searched Danny’s handle. “Damn. It’s private. Should I try to follow? I’m gonna try to follow.” Before she could second guess herself, her thumb hit the follow button.
“Well, now he’ll definitely know that I saw his message,” Jim said, a bit of a chastisement in his voice.
“Sorry. But you and I both know you had every intention of reaching out to him. I’m just acting on your behalf, since you don’t have an online presence.” But then a small sliver of worry worked its way into her brain: “Oh, unless...unless you weren’t? Because of the history?”
Jim scoffed. “Nah. I’m not hung up on that. And anyway, I remember how vocal you were when it came to who was better in bed--don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.” Pam warmed at the memory: back when Danny had been their short lived coworker and the three of them had had their awkward confrontation, Jim had taken her back home and kissed away the lingering insecurity she’d had at being called “a bit dorky,” then bent her over the couch and made her tell him just how much better he was at making her come than hotshot Danny Cordray had been. Her reassurances had been enthusiastic and plentiful, not to mention loud.
“I remember.”
Jim nudged her with his hip. “You’re fuckin’ right, you remember. And don’t you forget it.” There was that voice again, masculine grit and a hint of possessiveness, the definition of aural sex. She reached for him, slid her hand past his bearded jaw so she could anchor it at the back of his neck as she started the deliciously long climb up his body. Her fingers had just twisted into his hair and she was getting ready to tug at it in that way he liked when she heard the muffled sound of an Instagram notification, then another. Her forgotten phone had migrated to somewhere beneath her hip and she reached between her and Jim’s bodies to find it.
“Oh, wow. Danny Cordray accepted my follow request and sent me a message. Shall we open it?” Jim didn’t respond beyond a raised eyebrow, so Pam took that as a yes.
Well hey, Pam! Long time no see. Is this just a coincidence, or did Jim get my message?
Pam smiled sheepishly at her husband. “You were right, he totally knew right off the bat.”
“Well of course he did, Pam, the guy’s amazing. What will you say back?”
Her tongue poked out from between her teeth as she considered her reply. After a few moments she typed it out, then showed her screen to Jim for his approval.
Hi, Danny! Jim did get your message. You were right, he has zero social media presence. Looks like I’m the go-between.
Tell that guy to get with the times!
No, but seriously, you should definitely be involved in this, too. Behind every good man is a better woman, am I right? I know he doesn’t leave you out of any major decisions, either, so I’m really happy to have this conversation be a threeway.
Glad to see my dorkiness hasn’t put you off too much when it comes to having me as a potential business partner! ;)
“Goddamn, Pam, hold a grudge much?” Jim teased.
“What? I can’t let him win. It’s like you said, the guy’s amazing. I’m gonna check his profile, maybe there’ll be a clue as to this mysterious business opportunity. If he’s selling some multi-level marketing bullshit, I’m taking control of this ‘major decision’ and saying thanks but no thanks.” She clicked over to Danny’s feed and found it to be exactly what she imagined: flawless. There were lots of photos of Danny in various outdoor locations, several with a good-looking black and white collie, and a handful of him wearing expensive suits in expensive cities. No sign of a wife or family, which was both surprising and not. She scrolled through the photos, pausing for a few seconds here and there to take in a detail (expensive watch, fancy dinner, winning smile, chiseled abs) and was surprised as hell when Jim voiced her thoughts.
“Jesus. That’s a handsome fucking man.”
She twisted her head to look up at him. His cheeks were a bit pink and if she didn’t know any better, she’d say that his eyes were just this side of glazed over. Obviously Danny Cordray was objectively attractive, but Pam’s heart skipped a beat at the thought that there might be more than scientific objectivity to Jim’s assessment. She didn’t quite know what to respond, though, so she just said “oh?”
“I mean, yeah. I can appreciate a hot guy, you know that.” He sighed. “Maybe I am a bit hung up on the history.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “Jim, trust me. If I had the two of you in front of me, it’d be you every time.”
He cocked an eyebrow back at her. “Sure, sure. I’d have to see that to believe it.” Uh, yeah, his eyes definitely were glazed over. Pam felt her body temperature rise. There was absolutely no way—
Another notification pinged. She tore her eyes away from Jim’s face and switched back to the message thread.
Ouch! Well played. No ma’am, your dorkiness was and is very endearing. I’ve just never been the type of guy to be very endeared to anything for long when it comes to my personal life, if you know what I mean. Professionally that’s a different story, as I will be happy to fill you and Jim in about! You guys look like you’re living a great life, by the way. Beautiful family and very beautiful couple.
“Wow, what a flirt. Definitely seems like the kind of guy to never want to settle down. It makes me a bit more interested to find out what this business proposal is,” Jim said. He scrubbed a hand through his beard, scratched idly at the underside of his chin, then nonchalantly dropped a bomb on Pam when he said “and maybe he could be our third.”
She twisted her entire body towards him that time. It was a joke they’d been making for years, since Pam realized that she kind of thought a certain type of woman was pretty hot. “Hey, maybe she can be our third,” she’d say when a slim, tanned brunette would walk by. “Oh, how about her for our third?” when the woman a few seats away from them at a theatre squeezed by them in her pantsuit. And yeah, she knew that Jim had expressed interest in a man here or there, but always, like, just in theory. She’d never heard him make the joke himself, never expected him to, and definitely never thought she’d hear it with the level of seriousness that he’d said it just now.
“Sorrywhatwasthat?”
Jim shrugged, a smirk on his lips. “I don’t know. Seems like he’d be the type. Not interested?”
She tried not to sound too eager. “Oh no, I’m certainly interested. I just kind of can’t believe you are. Wouldn’t that be...weird? What would we even, like…do?”
He shrugged again. He was maddeningly cavalier about the whole damn thing, and Pam felt like she was about to explode like a firework due to pure, unbridled lust. She hated him for his coolness, but at the same time was insanely hot at how calmly he was discussing bringing another man into their bedroom. “I mean, I don’t think so. I know there’s history, but I trust you. I think there could be some no strings attached physical stuff there. I mean, I don’t think I want to fuck a dude. Or get fucked. Or watch you get fucked.” He turned towards her, aligning their bodies in a way that set her to writhing. “I like how you look when you suck my cock, though. I bet I’d like watching you do that to someone else.”
Pam’s brain short circuited. It rebooted right around the same time she felt Jim throw her leg over his hip and slide into her to the hilt, which also happened to be the same time her phone went off with another message.
Don’t want to keep you guys from your evening, just wanted to let you know I’ll be in your area next week and would love to catch up. Here’s my number, shoot me a text and I’ll take you two out on the town! Looking forward to seeing you both.
“He sent me his phone number,” she managed to say, right as Jim hit at just the right angle and made her see stars.
“Text him,” he answered, and punctuated it with a thrust.
Her body bowed towards him, every muscle taut. “You think we’ve really found our unicorn?”
Jim’s reply was muffled, seeing as how his face was against her neck and his mouth was open against her collar bone. “I don’t think it’s a called a unicorn if it’s a man.”
“Maybe not, but it’d be more fitting-”
And then Jim reached his hand to between her legs and whatever she was about to say, she completely forgot.
So that was how Pam Beesly found herself sitting next to Jim and across from Danny Cordray about a week and a half later. Danny had booked a reservation at an upscale, contemporary Mexican restaurant and she had to admit she was impressed. This place was known to be delicious and expensive, but Danny insisted that he needed to treat his hosts right.
After the requisite small talk (in which Danny was nothing but highly complementary about Jim and Pam both), the pitch meeting started. He had some thoughts on business and marketing analytics and ways that Athlead could increase their ROI by at least twelve percent, and Pam tried to follow along. Truly. But her drink was so good—Mexican sugar cane rum, coconut cordial, and a bit of lime—that she quickly found herself abandoning her ritual of “second drink” for an actual second drink, and then it became too hard (and boring) to be interested in metrics and algorithms.
Instead she scooted over so her legs were pressed against Jim’s. She put a hand on his thigh, and he responded by reaching under the table and tugging her even closer, his hand hooked under her knee. She crossed her legs, instinctively angling her body towards Jim’s. As she moved one leg over the other, her foot brushed against the side of Danny’s shin—not on purpose, of course, but she couldn’t have planned it better if she’d tried. He definitely felt the accidental contact and abruptly stopped talking...but that also could have been due to the server arriving with their food.
As they ate, conversation drifted away from business and back to small talk. Danny was still traveling, he said, although no longer in the paper game. “I’m based in Philly, but I travel about half the year. I do marketing consulting for quite a few businesses and corporations across the country.”
Jim leaned against the back of the booth and draped an arm across Pam’s shoulders. “Ah, I see. This isn’t so much a business proposition as it is a job interview then, huh?”
Danny smiled good naturedly. Pam liked how much his eyes crinkled when he smiled like that. “You caught me. I’d love the opportunity to speak with the rest of the board, but I wanted to reach out to you first.”
Jim smiled back, a grin that Pam knew crooked just the tiniest bit higher on one side than the other. The hand that wasn’t resting against the bare skin of Pam’s upper arm fiddled with the glass that held the remnants of his drink, and Pam was mesmerized at how the condensation of the glass collected against the skin that stretched between his thumb and index finger. His long fingers reached almost all the way around the width of the glass, and Pam was unable to tear her eyes away when Jim slid his hand up it’s length. She watched as a bead of water spilled out from where it had been resting against the web of his hand and slipped down the back of it. She had an urge to lean forward and lick it from his skin, but he brought his hand to his mouth and beat her to it.
Pam died. Like. Her heart actually stopped. She stared at Jim, her mouth dry and partly open. When she sat back and turned away (because there was no way she could keep looking at his mouth and his hand or any part of him without kicking the table over and straddling him) she was rendered even more dead at the way that Danny fucking Cordray was looking at her husband. Seriously, sign her death certificate because she was gone.
Because across from them, Danny had one arm draped across the back of the seat, much like how Jim his arm around Pam. He had his chin propped in the other hand, his pinky finger resting at the corner of his mouth. Pam watched as his mouth opened slightly, just enough for the tip of that pinky finger to find its way between a set of white teeth. She could see his jaw flex as he bit down on the tip of his finger...not too hard, but hard enough. His eyes were definitely on Jim’s hand in Jim’s mouth, and she watched as they trailed down to Jim’s neck and Jim’s chest before flicking over to her. He caught her staring and gave her a wink—a goddamn wink, like he could read all of her fantastically sinful thoughts and agreed with all of them—and then Jim broke her out of her reverie by speaking.
“Danny, I’ve always been impressed by you. You knew your stuff in sales and it’s clear you have a talent when it comes to consulting. I don’t see why we can’t have a conversation with the rest of the shareholders and see what happens.”
Danny moved his hand from his chin (and his finger from his mouth, unfortunately) and reached across the table to clasp Jim on his bicep. “I’ve always been a see what happens kind of guy, Jim, so that gets me pretty excited.” Then there was clinking of glasses and calls for another round and Jim was sliding his hand up the backside of Pam’s thigh, not even caring that Danny could probably see, because the two men were busy having an intense conversation about something Pam wasn’t even registering because goddamn.
This was going to be the death of her. Again.
And that was perfectly fine.
