A/N: Sorry for the delay. Here is the next chapter... don't you wish heatwaves could always be this fun?!

The heat bubbled up the corridor of the Scranton Business Park building like the alcohol in the thermometer on the wall that Michael kept whining to all morning, like it had something to do with the current weather. Unlike their boss, most everyone felt tolerably comfortable in the air conditioned space despite the appalling 100F temperature outside. Still, even though it was cool in the office, Jim was not in any mood to spend his lunch hour in the break room, where the constant drama in the unfolding debacle that was the Andy/Angela/Dwight trifecta had proved too nauseating for words; just that morning, when he stepped inside for a bag of chips, he'd found Andy practically grovelling at Angela's feet to take him back. Rather than risk actually leaping from the rooftop (and without the aid of a bouncy castle, he noted wryly), Jim instead chose to eat his lunch in his car, where he had A/C and his own music to drown out the chaos of the rest of the world.

As he slipped out, he wondered if anyone would notice if he had left. He frankly didn't care – the heat, combined with the inanity of the goings on of his colleagues and the fact that in a few short weeks the camera crews would be back to hound them again and Pam wouldn't be there to help him through it… it was all too much for him and he wished desperately that he could just disappear off the grid without the worry that someone somewhere might go looking for him.

Plugging in his iPod, Jim took a generous bite of his ham and cheese sandwich and flipped through his playlists, settling on a classical playlist he'd made after going to the symphony in New York with Pam a few weekends earlier. As the strings filled his car and dripped in his ears, the harsh vibration of his cell phone in his pocket created a surge of frustration and annoyance that washed through him, jarring him in its dissonance. He had a feeling it was Pam so he fished around to answer it; it was her, and he smiled despite himself, rubbing his eyes as he put the phone to his ear, "Hey."

There was a pause, "What's wrong?"

"How did you know?"

"The tone of your voice," she replied, "and I can hear Debussey in the background."

Jim turned down the volume, "It's been a long morning."

"Wanna talk about it?"

He laughed, "Do you have an hour?"

She giggled, "Is it Dwight?"

"I wish."

"That bad, huh?"

Jim nodded, and Pam understood, like she could hear his head move. He loved her for that, because sometimes he just didn't want to speak and with her, he sometimes didn't have to.

"Wanna hear something crazy?" she asked.

"Shoot."

"I'm not wearing any underwear."

Jim's eyes snapped open and he looked into the mouthpiece of his phone. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me," she was grinning.

"Um, who are you and what have you done with Pamela Beesly?"

"Have you forgotten what we've been up to all week?" Pam asked, "My, it must be hot. Your brain is melting, isn't it?"

Jim grinned, "Well regardless of that, I think you broke it several times already."

Pam laughed. "Don't you remember what you told me last night before bed?"

"No."

"You were half asleep," she said, "Mumbling and whatnot."

"Just tell me."

She laughed again, "You confessed that you'd never had phone sex, and wondered if I would ever consider it."

Jim's pants felt too restrictive all of a sudden. He placed his lunch kit on the seat beside him and leaned back against the headrest, glancing around the parking lot as he did just to make sure; still, he lowered his seat down as far as it would go and leaned the seat back a bit to hide his frame as best he could. "Would you?"

"What do you think?"

He slowly undid his belt buckle. "What are you wearing, then?"

"Nothing special," she said, "I think I'm going to take it off anyway."

"What's stopping you?"

"I wish it were your hands slipping my bra straps over my shoulders… ."

Jim grasped his throbbing cock in his hand and began to stroke.

"…And your hands running down my stomach… ."

He groaned.

"… Your fingers pushing my panties down… ."

Jim croaked, "I thought you said you weren't wearing any."

She giggled, "I guess I'm just a bad liar."

"You're a bad lot-of-things," Jim said, moving his hand a faster as he spoke, gripping himself as he slid his fingers up and down the shaft in time with his rapid breaths.

"I'm lying in our bedroom," she said, her voice low and whisper soft against his ear, "My clothes are all in a heap on the floor… . If you were here beside me, I would pull you over so you were on top of me… ."

"Would you now?" Jim asked, suddenly getting an idea. He pressed the phone to his cheek as he started the car engine and tucked himself away – with great difficulty – and readjusted his chair. Then he backed his car out of the stall.

"I would… then I'd ask you to kiss me anywhere but on the lips…," she sighed, "Would you like to kiss my neck?"

"Yes," Jim breathed heavily into the phone, wondering how he'd be able to drive distracted like this for much longer.

"I made sure to put on that body cream, the kind that tastes like strawberries… can you taste it on your lips?"

Jim thought he almost could. "Yes, I can."

"Do you want to kiss my breasts?"

As he throbbed beneath the steering wheel, he wondered what the jail penalty was for masturbating while driving. His voice came out husky and coarse. "Yes. I do."

"I'd make sure you gave each of my little nipples equal attention…," she said, and he heard her sigh and groan a bit.

"Are you touching yourself?"

"And imagining it's you," she said.

Two more blocks, Halpert. Two more blocks. "God, Pam…," he groaned.

"You're much bigger," she said, "Your fingers are longer… you fill me up more than I can… I like the feel of your thighs brushing between mine as you hover over me… ."

Jim turned the corner onto his street. Pam's car was in the parking lot; he swung around and pulled in beside her. With one hand, he slipped the top button of his pants through the button hole and hurried out the door, careful not to slam it. "Tell me more."

She groaned, "I'm so wet already… I could just slide you in right now… ."

"Could you really?" he raced into the building and up the stairs. "How much do you wanna bet that you could slide me into you right now?"

"Well I can't," she pouted, "You're not here."

He slid his key into the lock and turned; the tumbler gave and with a shush the door opened. He was quiet as he deposited his keys on the table beside the door. "It's too bad, isn't it?"

Another faint groan. "Mm-hmm… just too bad you aren't here to help me out… ."

Jim was ten feet away from his masturbating girlfriend. He thought his cock might just explode then and there. He padded softly to the bedroom door.

"Really."

Rustling, a gasp. "Really."

He pushed lightly on the bedroom door, and heard Pam shriek on the other side and right in his head. When he stepped around the door and came into her line of vision – and saw her, sprawled out on the bed, gripping the phone in her hand and tangled up in the sheets – he flipped his phone closed. Dropping his phone onto the dresser, he loosed his tie and kicked off his shoes.

"You've been a very naughty girl, Miss Beesly."

She grinned, her face flushed, and pushed herself up onto her elbows, "Jim Halpert, subterfuge is thy middle name."

He let out a low growl and stalked over to the bed, where Pam pulled him down on top of her. She was right; he slid right in.

As Jim buttoned up his shirt and let Pam retie his tie for him, he pressed his phone to his ear. "Yeah, Michael? Uh… sorry, man, I'm running a bit behind. Something came up at lunch."

Pam reached down and brushed him gently with her flat palm; he pushed her hand away and frowned.

"It sure did come up," she whispered.

"Get lost!" he mouthed, turning his attention back to the phone as Pam leaned back on the bed, "Yeah, Michael, thanks. I'll be right back."

He flipped his phone closed, still searching for his other shoe. It was under the bed; Pam rolled over onto her stomach and lifted the shoe up with one finger.

"Looking for this?"

"I'm gonna be late," he said.

"Give us a kiss first," she whispered, "Then we'll talk."

He bent down, pressing his tie against his shirt to keep it from getting in the way, and captured her mouth. She groaned against him, embedding her fingers in his hair and pulling him closer, and he rested his free hand against her cheek.

"I've gotta go," he whispered, breaking the contact to speak and then kiss her nose.

"I know."

"Thanks for…," he grinned, "…lunch."

"You're welcome."

He paused, resisting, and then quickly dove in for another kiss. He walked out the door this time, pausing only to take one last glimpse of the goddess reclining in his bed before smiling back. "I think this time you did melt my brain."

"Get out of here."

"I'm gone," he said. He tasted her on his lips, tingling and warm, for the rest of the afternoon.