A/N: Howdy pervy JAM fans!! (Don't worry, I must be pervier than you if I'm writing it!! haha) Just to clarify a bit, even though it wasn't stated explicitly in the previous chapter, consent is another one of the "rules" of the game... it's kind of a given, I think, but just in case, I wanted you to know that no one is going to engage in non-consensual acts in this story... unless it's part of the role-playing... anyone up for some light BDSM? (images of John Krasinski and a pair of handcuffs flit through this author's pervy little brain) Ahem... anyway... enjoy!! :D
The next day, a Sunday, was the third in the promised long line of hot days in the early July heatwave that had socked in most of Pennsylvania and the rest of the northeastern United States. Already, threats of an electricity grid overload and water restrictions had the area in a panic, and sent more than a few people scouring the city of Scranton for bottled water and batteries just in case.
Jim and Pam relaxed at home, watching movies and eating ice cream to stay cool. The memories of the night before were making it difficult to stay focused. But to make things infinitely more interesting, Jim had been leaving clues around the house all day. A collection of sharpened pencils in a small vase on the nightstand, which she found in the morning, was the first thing to tip her off. Then Jim had begun asking silly questions about state capitals or grammar and then smiling smugly before saying things like "Precisely" or "Correct". And he kept eating apples – he'd find apples in random places, like above the TV or underneath the coffee table, wipe them off, shrug as if wondering how on earth these apples ended up where they were, and then take a bite anyway.
When Jim had begun changing clothes periodically – first with a pair of black leather loafers, then a pair of brown wool dress pants (on a day like that, he must have been crazy!), then a dress shirt and bowtie, and finally a houndstooth print jacket in tweed – Pam tried her best to ignore him and wait for the inevitable revelation. But after all the costume changes, he emerged at last with a pipe in his mouth and his hair slicked back so as to resemble a 1950s Brylcreem advertisement model. Pam dropped her spoon back into the tub of Cherry Garcia and clucked her tongue. "What in the hell has gotten into you today?!" she asked.
"Follow me," he said.
So she did, right to the bedroom, where she found an outfit she'd never seen before displayed on the bed. Black form-fitting skirt, white blouse, black blazer.
"What's this?"
"Standard librarian uniform," he thumbed his lapel and rocked back on his heels, "And I'm the principal."
Pam almost began to laugh. "Are you serious?"
"Absolutely, I am," he said, with a straight face that made Pam giggle.
"You want me to wear this?" she asked.
He just nodded.
"Terrible, Halpert. And unfair! Why don't I get to see you in costume, like a police officer or something?"
"It's your turn tomorrow, right?" Jim asked, taking a faux puff of his pipe.
Pam grabbed the outfit and sauntered into the bathroom, "And don't you forget it."
She emerged a few minutes later looking amazing and surprising even herself with how fabulous the clothes fit. So Jim had been paying attention those times she had dragged him shopping... .
She scarcely had a moment to think about it; Jim circled around her, eyeing her up and down – Pam loved the feeling of his eyes as they traversed her length. "My plan," he breathed into her ear as he circled around and stopped behind her, "is to role play a situation involving our 'characters'." He cupped the underside of her breasts under the cool satiny fabric of her shirt, and discovered she wasn't wearing a bra; his erection swelled and Pam blushed as she felt it press against the small of her back. "You get to keep the wardrobe of course, and every time you wear it out, to work or to a job interview," he kissed her neck, tonguing lightly over her skin, making her shiver, "You'll remember today."
"I will, huh?"
He pulled away, "Is that a challenge?""It's whatever you want it to be." She stepped away from him and over to the nightstand, grabbing a pair of black rimmed reading glasses from the top drawer. She pushed them onto her nose and looked at Jim over the top edge. "Why, Mr. Halpert, what are you doing in my library at such a late hour?""I didn't know you had those," Jim said.
"Good choice?" she asked, even though she could see the effect she was having on him already. "I'm full of surprises."
"Are you now?"
She shook her head and crossed her arms, "You have a lot of overdue material, sir. I'll need something to guarantee that you'll bring the material back."
"Well, Miss Beesly," he wrapped his hands around her waist and drew her closer, "I'm sure we can work something out."
Pam smiled and tilted her pelvis into him. "I'm sure we can…," she swivelled her hips and then pulled back, sitting on the edge of the bed and hiking up her skirt until it reached her mid-thigh, "…work something out."
"That's what I like to hear."
He approached her, and his hands worked the fabric of her skirt up until it was pushed around her hips. Pam's lips plumped crimson and he could already feel her warmth as his hand brushed the front of her panties. He was certainly aroused, and all the play talk was only making it better. But when Pam's coy eyes locked onto his and she turned around on the bed, pressing her backside into his groin, Jim didn't know what to do. It was a position he'd never been able to ask her for, and yet here she was, seeming to be freely offering it to him. He groaned.
"Yes, Jim, you can take me like this."
As if she had read his mind. Jim undid his belt buckle and zipper fly and kicked the trousers away; Pam hooked her thumbs into her panties and slid them down her legs, catching them around her ankle and flinging them to join Jim's pants somewhere on the other side of the bed.
Pam had never felt so empowered. She had never liked this position, but seeing Jim's eyes and feeling his hands on her as he entered her that way, kneeing her legs apart a bit for better access, made her stomach flip flop. She gripped the bed sheet, surprised at how great it felt, and backed into him as he thrust. She cast her eyes back at him, remembering an article in Cosmo years ago that said it was a great way to rev his engine or something; it must have worked, because Jim began to pump faster. He bit his lip and held her hips, and she rested, elbows on mattress, enjoying every minute, every thrust, every noise coming from the back of Jim's throat.
Something in his position changed, and Pam felt intense pressure inside her building slowly and steadily. She pushed against him, eager to feel him hit that same spot again and again, which he did without needing to be told. Her grip on the bedsheet tightened and she buried her face in the mattress to stifle the sound. Jim's cock began to throb and he delved deeply with a satisfied half-growl, burying himself to the hilt in her warmth while she gripped him tightly and pushed back against him, grinding against him and not wanting him to move. She could feel him filling her, nudging that spot inside her, and she groaned.
"Naughty Miss Beesly," Jim's voice waved past her ear like smoke as he snaked his hand around and pushed it between her legs. She gasped as his fingertips found her clit, and he momentarily abandoned his own quest for release as he guided Pam to hers. His hand pumped furiously while he pressed his hips against Pam's backside, thrusting only to let her know he was still there (like she could forget). With every half-thrust, Pam groaned; with every stroke of his expert fingers, Pam gasped; and finally, Jim couldn't stand it any longer and he pumped his hips and let himself go, and Pam squirmed under him as he continued to manipulate his fingers. Hearing his groan as he came was Pam's undoing and she began to quiver and spasm, clenching around his cock and squeezing him dry.
"I'm sorry," he was panting against her back.
"Don't be silly," Pam replied. She wanted him to pull out, to spin her around, to lay her down and put his head between her breasts and let her stroke his damp hair and soothe him as he came down from his post-climactic high. But another part of her liked that he was still deep inside her, that she could still feel him and his own spasms, that he was collapsed
instead against her back because they had most recently been in the throes of the most primal kind of sex, and Pam had liked it immensely. She released her hold on the bedsheets and realized she might have to fire up the iron to get the claw marks out.
"That... was... ."
"Hot," she finished.
"I was going to say that it met the standards of excellence," Jim was still breathless, "'A' for effort."
Pam giggled and pushed back against Jim, and the bond of their bodies was broken and she could spin to face him. She leaned back on her elbows and ran her leg up the inside of his thigh; he bent at the waist and hovered over her.
"Say what you will, Mr. Halpert," she smoothed her skirt down over her glistening thighs. "You still owe me, and I intend on calling it all in."
And with that, he kissed her, biting her lip as he did, and Pam wondered if it was possible to die from happiness.
