"I can't believe you almost forgot the ice," Pam giggled as they stepping inside Jim's apartment. "I mean it's only one of the most important ingredients."

Jim leaned back against the door to shut it. "I beg to differ, Pam." He lifted the slim brown bag up to her face. ''Clearly it would have been worse had I not remembered the coconut rum."

Pam smiled and took the bottle from his hand. "I stand corrected. That would have been a tragedy."

She leaned up against him, rewarding his memory with a kiss. Jim automatically put his arm around her, which caused her to jump back with a shriek, as he was also holding a five pound bag of ice with that hand.

"Oops," Jim grinned. "Sorry about that."

"Sure you are," Pam replied, walking toward the kitchen. "You can just keep your frozen mitts to yourself now."

Jim laughed, following close behind. "Yeah, we'll see about that.." He dropped the ice into the sink and grabbed her around the waist, effectively pinning her against the counter. "Are you really sure you want me to keep my hands to myself now?"

Pam ran her hands over his tie, and with her right hand began to loosen the knot. "Well, I do owe you a proper thank you for today," she purred. "so unless you'd rather go play some Madden..."

He absentmindedly fingered the buttons running down the back of her dress as he pulled her closer. "While I usually would be the first to suggest that nothing says 'Thanks for everything' like a good game of video football, I think I'm going to pass on that suggestion."

As he kissed her Pam ran her hands up around his collar, her fingers finding their favorite resting place amidst the curls that clung to the nape of his neck. Jim's hand followed the silky feel of her dress from her waist to her hips, and then around the soft curve of her behind. Without warning he picked her up and sat her down on the kitchen counter.

"Whoa," Pam responded, her arms tightening around his neck. "What's this about?"

"Just thought you'd like a better perspective as I mix our drinks."

"I'm not that short," she huffed good naturedly. He was about to step away to get the blender when she grabbed his coat lapel. "Hey, I'm not done with you yet."

"I should hope not," he mused, stepping closer. Now seated up on the counter Pam was practically at eye level with Jim, and he had to admit it made it more comfortable to kiss her in that position. The fact that he'd nudged one of his legs between hers made the whole situation more appealing to him as well. They kissed for a few minutes longer, and Jim was starting to think about undoing those buttons on her dress when Pam finally pushed him away.

"We better start making those drinks before the ice all melts," she reminded him.

"Right," Jim nodded, still more interested in her lips than the state of the ice cubes. "Okay." He rummaged through the cabinets, pulling out a blender and some brandy snifters while Pam took their recent purchases out of the bags.

"So you know how to make pina coladas, right?" Pam asked, handing him the tins of coconut milk.

"No, I thought you did."

"No, I told you I didn't." They looked at each other in disbelief then both began to smile.

"The internet," Pam said.

"Let's look it up," Jim said at the same time, offering her his hand to help her off the counter. "So how did you know what to buy then?"

Pam sat down at Jim's computer. "I just figured it was obvious. I just don't know the proper proportions."

They compared a few mixology sites, and were pleased to see that indeed they hadn't forgotten anything important. Pam wrote down a few things, then pressed the post-it note to Jim's shirt. "Okay, you go to it," she smiled.

"Me?" He laughed as he shed his jacket and threw it on the chair. "I thought you were going to run the show."

"I trust you," she smiled, finishing the job of removing his tie that she had started earlier. "I'll be your beautiful assistant."

"Alrighty then," he replied, rolling up his sleeves as they walked back into the kitchen. "But first we have to taste the rum."

A single shot turned into two, and then three as the two of them attempted to get the measurements right for the drinks. It might have helped had Jim actually owned a set of measuring cups.

"How do you not own a set?" Pam asked between giggles.

"I thought I had some," Jim relied, "I must have left them with Mark."

"And you just noticed now?"

"I'm afraid I haven't been doing much in the way of measured cooking, Pam. It's been a lot of takeaway and frozen pizza."

Pam rubbed her hand over his back. "Aw, poor Jim. Well, I will send you a new set of measuring cups on Monday, okay?"

Jim grinned despite her sarcasm. "Oh would you really? Because I don't know how I'll survive if I don't have a set." He switched off the blender and poured their first attempt in the snifters. "Here, try this."

"Smells delicious," Pam replied. She took a taste and her eyes widened. "Wow. I think you went a little heavy on the coconut rum in this batch."

"I don't know, I think it tastes good."

"Well, I can taste the rum, and that's saying a lot given that I'm already feeling the rum shots we had. I don't see me getting through many of these things."

"Always the lightweight, huh, Beesly?" Jim had to admit that the rum shots were sending a warm feeling through his body. Not quite buzzed yet, but certainly aware of how happy he was to be standing there with the woman he loved. Aware of how beautiful she was, and how much he wanted her.

"There are benefits to not needing a lot of alcohol," she replied, taking another sip of her drink.

"Saves money," Jim nodded.

"And my liver thanks me," she added.

"Well, it's always good to have a grateful liver," Jim replied. He put his drink down on the counter and cupped Pam's face in his hands. "You look amazing," he said softly.

"Wow. Um, okay," Pam said, putting her drink down behind her. "Thanks."

"You sound surprised," he smiled as he kissed her.

"Well, I usually don't hear such compliments right after comments on my internal organs."

Jim kissed her again. "Yeah, I guess that was a little bit of a non-sequitur."

"Just a little," she grinned, kissing him back. "But I can deal with it."

They continued to stand in the kitchen kissing, their drinks melting unnoticed, until Pam took a step back. "Can we go sit down, or at least let me take my shoes off? These heels are starting to hurt."

Jim looked down as she kicked off her one shoe. "I didn't even notice you were wearing pantyhose," he commented.

"I'm not really," she replied, pulling off her other shoe. "They are thigh high stockings."

Jim eyebrows practically disappeared into his hairline. "Thigh high stockings? And you are just telling me this now?"

"Yeah," she grinned. "Does it matter?"

Jim took a drink of his cocktail. "Well, it depends what you mean by 'matter'. I mean, I probably wouldn't have been half as coherent tonight had I known."

Pam laughed. "I had no idea you had a thing for them."

Jim tried to shrug it off. "I wouldn't exactly call it a thing," he said carelessly. "I just think they are interesting."

"Interesting?" Pam raised an eyebrow. "The fact that the idea of me wearing them would leave you incoherent makes them way more than interesting." She slid her fingers through his belt loops and tugged him toward her. "Now tell me what you like about them."

Jim felt himself flush, equal parts embarrassment and excitement. They'd shared a great deal over this past week, but confessing to fantasies he'd had about her - well that was new territory. He finished his drink before saying anything. He cleared his throat, aware that she was still waiting for an answer.

"Well, it's possible that I have imagined you wearing them."

"Go on." Pam smiled. "And why were you doing that?"

Jim rolled his eyes. "Give me a break, will you? How long did I sit across the office from you, watching you every day? Do you think I never thought about what I'd rather be doing than just talking to you?"

"I have wondered about that," she replied. "If it makes you feel any better you weren't the only one doing that."

"Now you tell me," he replied.

"But go on - what's so special about thigh high stockings?"

"Well, they're so much more convenient, aren't they?"

"In what way?" She asked, the sparkle in her eye telling him she already knew what he meant, but was purposely egging him on. He was quickly losing any sense of embarrassment, as his desire for her was eclipsing it.

"You can stay practically dressed and still have sex, can't you?" Jim was pressing her back against the counter, and he knew she could feel he was already aroused.

"Is that what you fantasied about?" She asked, her voice suddenly huskier. Her hands were now on his chest, and she could feel his heart beating. Beating nearly as fast as she felt hers pounding. "You and I having sex in the office?"

"Sometimes," he answered, aware that his voice was sounding strange to his ears, almost gravelly. "Sometimes it was just the idea of being able to touch you. To pleasure you."

"Oh," she replied, feeling a bit breathless. She licked her lips. "Like how?"

Jim couldn't resist kissing her, feeling the electricity running through him as he did so. "Do you want me to tell you one of my fantasies?" He whispered against her ear as he continued kissing her cheek and neck.

"No," she replied. She turned her head to look into his eyes. "I want you to show me."

"Okay," he said, his hands brushing up into her hair, "But let's create the scene a little more realistically. Can I take your hair down?"

"Sure," she replied, reaching up to help him take out the bobby pins.

'It's okay, I can do it," he said, pushing her hands away.

"You're stalling," she teased.

"No, I'm not," he said, his tone serious. "I just want to do this."

She brought her hands back to his chest, and closed her eyes. "Knock yourself out." She heard the sound of the metal bobby pins clicking on the formica counter as he carefully pulled each out of her bun. She sighed in pleasure as she felt his fingers running along her scalp, fluffing out the sleekly pulled back hair, and carefully undoing the braid that had encompassed the bun. Soon her hair was down around her shoulders.

"There," Jim said. "That's the Pam I know."

She opened her eyes. "I knew you didn't like that style," she smiled.

"I did," he insisted, his fingers still weaving through the ends of her curls. "I really did. But I'm a big fan of everyday Pam, too." He kissed her gently on the lips. "This is the Pam I fantasize about."

"Everyday Pam doesn't wear thigh high stockings," she reminded him, kissing him back.

Jim chuckled. "Maybe not. But I'm allowed a few liberties."

"So tell me your fantasy," she prompted him softly. "Where are we?"

"Well, in Scranton, obviously," he began. "There are a few different scenarios."

"Tell me your favorite."

"They're all pretty good, I mean, they are my fantasies."

"You're stalling again."

"I'm not - I'm just telling you the truth."

Pam rubbed her hands over his chest. "Then pick one."

Jim closed his eyes for a moment. "Okay," he finally said, running his hands along her shoulders. "We are in the conference room, having been corralled into another exciting Michael meeting."

Pam giggled. "Michael's not part of this fantasy, is he?"

"God no," Jim said quickly. "Just listen, okay?"

"Okay, sorry."

"So we've been trapped in the meeting for a while - too long, of course - and we're sitting next to each other." He gently stroked the sides of her neck, then followed his thumbs with his lips. Pam leaned her head back in encouragement.

"You've crossed your legs and begin to brush your foot against my leg. We're seated at the conference table so no one can see what you are doing."

"I can picture that," she said softly.

"Good. I put my hand under the table and rest it on your knee, giving you a look that asks you to stop it because the way you're stroking my leg with yours is already making me hard." His kisses continue along her throat, to her chin and jaw and finally her lips, as his hands move down along her sides.

"And do I stop?"

"You do, but that's because you've put your hand over mine and move it up your thigh." Jim's hands move down past her waist, his fingers curling under the hem of her dress. "That's when I discover your stockings."

Pam couldn't help but giggle despite the fact she was finding this fantasy totally thrilling. "I like how you think," she smiled as she kissed him, her lips parting to deepen her kiss. It took a few minutes for Jim to find the breath to continue.

"When the meeting finally breaks up, I keep my hand on your leg so you know not to get up and leave yet. Once everyone else has filed out, we stand up and head toward the door." Jim pulls her away from the counter, and steers her slowly toward the wall at the far side of the kitchen. "When we get towards the door and I close it and push you up against the wall."

He follows his words by pushing her against the kitchen wall, his mouth seeking hers yet again as his hands are stroking her thighs over the skirt of her dress.

"And then what?" she asks, feeling her belly filling with a warmth that was not entirely due to the rum.

"Shh," he hushed her between kisses. "I don't think we need any narration from this point."

"Do you lock the door?" She couldn't help but ask.

He pulled back to look at her, the slightest glimpse of amusement evident at her question. "No," he replied. "That's part of the fun."

His one hand then found the curve of her breast while the other traveled back under the hem of her dress, his fingers stopping to stroke the satiny band of material at the top of her stockings. Pam felt a little lightheaded by all the attention and locked her hands behind his neck to make sure she didn't fall. She felt his hand move higher and she couldn't help but part her legs slightly, an involuntary shiver going through her body. She already knew she'd never be able to walk into that conference room again without thinking of this moment.

For his part Jim had already concluded that the reality was hotter than any fantasy he'd ever imagined. Her satin panties felt smooth under his fingers, and his reaction to the fact that they were already damp was to kiss her deeper, his free arm going around her waist to steady her as tasted the rum and the pineapple in her mouth.

She moaned as his hand pushed past her panties and began to stroke her. She grasped his shoulders and moved against his hand, and Jim wondered if he wouldn't come before she did, simply because he was so turned on by her obvious pleasure.

Her hand snaked down to his belt, and began to stroke his obvious bulge, but he stepped back. "Don't," he said. "This isn't about me."

She looked deep into his eyes. "Yes it is," she said, her hand curling around the waistband of his trousers. "This is all about you. Only you."

"Soon," was all he replied, and indeed it didn't take much more for Pam to shudder in climax. He held her close against him as she finished, and had to smile when he felt her making a move to undo his belt again. He didn't resist this time, and when she began to stroke him again through his pants he closed his eyes and leaned into her hand, the sensation making his legs feel weak. "Maybe we need to rethink this whole standing up thing," he said softly. "I think the rum's affecting my sense of balance."

Pam's laughter bubbled up even as she continued to stroke him in earnest. "The rum, huh?"

Jim pulled her away from the kitchen wall. "Come on," he encouraged, "Let get more comfortable."

"You're young and healthy," Pam cajoled as she followed him. "You can't manage to carry on standing up for just a little while longer?"

Jim pushed the coffee table aside and threw all the couch cushions onto the floor, then pulled her down to join him. "I don't think you truly appreciate the effect you have on me," he finally replied, as they both reclined on the cushions facing each other.

"Is that so?" She asked, her hand pulling his shirt out from his waistband.

"Yeah, it is." He dragged her hand lower as he moved closer. "I would much rather be in a position to enjoy it than be in a position that I have to concentrate on maintaining."

Pam leaned over him and began to unbutton his shirt. "Wow, I had no idea how boring you are, Jim."

His arms went around her as he began in unbutton her dress. "Yeah, I was kind of hoping my brilliant wit and charm would blind you to that sad fact."

"Well yeah, maybe in the short term," she remarked, feeling the need to kiss his chest as she undid each button. "But how are you going to be able to sustain my interest in the long run?"

Jim had undone all her buttons so he sat up, his hands tugging the dress down to her waist. "I guess I'm just going to have to rely on a great deal of coconut rum," he mused, kissing her now bare shoulder.

"Good plan," she laughed, pulling herself closer to him. Their eyes met and Pam brushed her hand against his jaw, rough with the evening's stubble. "Of course I love you, you know, " she added, "So that forgives a multitude of sins."

"Even the sin of boring sex?"

"I never said the sex was boring," she grinned. "I just said you were."

"Nice, thank you," he laughed, pulling his shirt off and tossing in the direction of the couch. "Good to know we cleared that up." He pushed her back onto the cushions, shimmying her dress down her hips as he did so. Her dress soon headed in the direction his shirt had taken, and he rested his head in his hand as he took in the view of her in the satin undergarments and stockings.

"So are those pants ever going to come off?" She asked, sounding slightly exasperated.

"Only if you know the magic word," he replied.

"Flutternufter?"

Jim laughed. "That's not even a word!"

"Maybe that's why it's the magic word."

Jim rolled his eyes. "No. That's not the word."

"Fahrvergnügen."

"Come on, that's a Volkswagen commercial. Last chance, Pam."

"Last chance? For what?"

"Last chance to guess the magic word."

"And if I don't?"

"Then I guess the pants are staying on."

Pam rolled away from him, giggling. "That sounds more like your misfortune than mine."

Jim grabbed her by the waist, spooning up behind her. "Can you be sure of that?"

"I think I need another pina colada."

"Okay, but then you have to give your last guess." Jim jumped up and disappeared into the kitchen. Pam sat up as he came in with one of their glasses and the rest of the cocktail in the blender pitcher.

"One glass?"

"There's not that much left," Jim explained, sitting down in front of her. "You have a problem with sharing?"

"No," she smiled, "Of course not." She watched as he filled the glass and handed it to her. "Thanks." She took a long sip, then offered the glass back. Jim placed it on the coffee table, next to the pitcher.

"So what's the final guess, Beesly?"

She tilted her head and just gazed at him. Had anyone told her two weeks ago that she's be in this position, in this state of dress, and she would have though them insane. But here she was, with everything she ever wanted right in front of her. She sat up on her knees and moved closer.

"Please," she said, putting her arms around his neck. "The magic word is please."