A/N: Wrote this a long time ago, didn't let myself post until I updated another story. These are some little fantasies of Pam's, taking place in the office, season two. The first one is pretty clean, gradually getting dirtier:P Enjoy!
Shorts
She remembers him smiling at her, his bangs against his forehead with sweat and his t-shirt giving him room, unrestricted movement.
She thinks he'd do good things with unrestricted movement.
Then Roy passes without even looking at her, but she still notices his ruddy cheeks and the way he made Jim's nose bleed.
Button
Sometimes she imagines what would happen if she walked over to his desk, leaned down to give him a message and clasped her hands behind her back.
Maybe a button would pop off her cardigan.
Jim would laugh. She would laugh.
And then they would have to acknowledge the fact that her breasts were kind of sticking out, since the one button came off.
She thinks he'd be okay with that, though.
Stapler
The stapler isn't working right. She presses it over and over, but even though she just refilled it, a single staple won't come out. She swipes her finger underneath it to see if a staple is jammed, and one is. A sharp point cuts her, causing a ruby red bead to ooze from the tip of her index finger.
"Ow," she whines quietly.
"You okay?" he asks, and she doesn't even see him. She feels him, thought, his breath on her neck, behind her ear, in her hair. It makes her shiver and her eyes close for a second.
She thinks about him kissing her there, she think about him pulling up her skirt and her shoulder coming exposed while she breathes.
Secret
He leans in, close enough so his whispers can be heard.
"So I need you to help me with this thing for Dwight..."
She looks at the floor while gathering information. The phone is already set to voicemail, her lunch will be left untouched.
But he's so close right now. She wonders about him. She wonders what it would be like if she looked down at his pants, and he was hard. She wonders what his breathing would do if he looked down her shirt and saw a drip of sweat falling between her breasts. She thinks about touching all of him, his chest, his arms, feeling the boundaries of his muscles. Touching his hair.
"You got all that, Beesly?"
She shakes her head a little and hopes he doesn't notice her beading forehead. "Repeat it again."
Different
"Thanks again, Mr. Herman, for your business. I'll call in a few weeks to see if you're satisfied. Tell your daughter good luck with her spelling bee! Yup! Goodbye!" He hangs up the phone and sighs a little, probably tired of remembering which client has a son in soccer, and a daughter in the spelling bee, and a wife in a pie baking contest.
Pam giggles a little and he notices, coming over for a jelly bean.
She thinks that if she kissed him right now, he'd taste like cherry.
And she would taste like peppermint tea.
And she's just spit-balling here, but that combination doesn't sound too bad.
He'd say something afterwards, only it wouldn't be lighthearted and charismatic. It'd be deep, low, hoarse.
"Dirty, beautiful, filthy girl you are, Ms. Beesly," he'd say.
And then he'd kiss her again, and she'd sweep her tongue over his, tasting cherries, again.
"I am," she'd whimper.
Review, I say!
