"Pam," Harley giggled. "Pam, it tickles."
Pam giggled too, but kept her lips pressed to Harley's stomach, brushing a red lock of sweat-damp hair aside and planting another kiss before she moved an inch downward. "You are so squirmy."
"Did you just make up a word?" Harley grinned.
Pamela's head shot up immediately. "No. 'squirmy' is absolutely a word. It's the adjectival form of 'squirm'."
The blonde laughed. "You couldn't be a bigger nerd if you tried. Definitely the hottest nerd I know, though."
"Mente et corpore." Pam smiled as she kissed the skin just below Harley's navel. "Mind and body." She translated before Harley could request it.
Harley's eyelids fluttered closed. "How do you say, 'I like you a lot'?"
"Hmm…" Pam propped herself up on her elbows to think for a moment. "Te amo."
"Te amo…" Harley repeated.
"But technically that means you love me." Pam offhandedly admitted as she dipped back down to continue the progression of her lips.
"Pam!" Harley tugged her up by the shoulders and somehow rolled them so that the blonde was suddenly the one on top again. "That's a mean trick."
Pamela was legitimately confused for a moment. She looked for answers in the bright blue eyes above her. Then realization dawned and she blushed in embarrassment. "No, that's not what I meant. There's just not really a term for 'like a lot' in Latin, it's really just like or love but the way you emphasized the 'a lot' led me to believe it was crucial to your statement, so-"
Harley was kissing her again- slowly, wetly- and when she pulled back she affectionately nuzzled Pam's nose with her own. "Did I mention you're adorable?"
"Once or twice." The redhead smiled. "Although I still don't agree completely with your choice of adjective." She swiftly rolled them over once more and now she was seeing those blue eyes darken below her.
"Do you have any idea how many people would be jealous?" Harley breathed. "If they knew I was in Pamela Isley's bed?"
"Mmm…No." Pam told her as she alternated kissing and dragging her tongue across Harley's jawline, eliciting a wanton moan from the blonde, especially when Pamela paired it with a slow grind of her hips against the other girl's. "How many?"
Harley attempted to buck her hips up to meet her. "All of them."
"All of them?" Pamela giggled before dipping down to suck at Harley's throbbing pulse.
Harley bit her lip to stifle another moan. "Mhm. Every—ah—last one of 'em."
"Well…" Pam dragged her lips back up to meet Harley's. "Too bad for them." She ran her tongue across the other girl's and then took Harley's bottom lip lightly between her teeth before pulling back and releasing it. "Because you're the only one I want here."
"The only one?" Harley asked.
"The. Only. One." Pam punctuated each word with a kiss.
/
Harley could feel those words – the only one – bouncing around in her mind, Pam's sexy bedroom voice echoing over and over. Just when she'd thought that Pam couldn't get any sexier – fuck, there she went trailing her hot tongue down Harley's neck again – she'd gotten to see her in action, so to speak.
And my God, Harley thought, if I thought she was amazing before . . .
Pam was moving lower now, at a languorous pace, leaving no doubt about where she was headed. As her teeth gently scraped Harley's belly button, Harley moaned and then croaked out, "Pam . . . I think I need a drink of water."
The redhead looked up at her, eyes a bit unfocused at first, but then she blinked to clear them and said, "Of course, I'll get us some."
Harley only barely managed to lunge forward and catch her by the wrist as Pam started to rise from the bed. She tugged Pam back down, gently, so they were lying side by side, then kissed her on the nose. "I'll get it," Harley said. "You just lie here and . . . be you."
"Mmm, tall order, but I think I can handle it," Pam said, smiling contentedly up at her. Harley couldn't resist one last kiss before grabbing a fuzzy robe from Pam's bathroom and then heading out into the now dark hallway.
Hmm, left takes me back to the main staircase . . . right? Harley fumbled her way down the hall, wishing she'd brought her cell phone to use as a flashlight. Her hand brushed a switch, and she flicked on the hall light, sighing in relief.
But – she must have gotten turned around in the dark, because the stairs should have been right there. Harley went through the first door she came to, thinking it would lead her back to where she could cut through to Pam's room, but when she flipped on the light she was in what must have been a guest bedroom. She sighed, turned to retrace her steps – and ran right into Pamela Isley in all her glory, quirking one eyebrow at her and smirking in amusement.
"Y-you're – where are your –" Harley stammered.
Pam stepped forward and fingered the edge of the robe Harley wore. "Mmm, see, I had to go save this blonde who apparently got lost on her way to get water, and turns out she also stole my robe, so I had to leave au naturel."
"I think it's pronounced al dente," Harley giggled.
Pam smoothly slid the robe away from Harley's shoulders, and as it hit the floor she was already skimming her teeth lightly along Harley's collarbone. "Al dente it is," she murmured against Harley's skin, walking her backwards until they collided with the bed and landed on it in a heap. Pam's mouth was still near Harley's collarbone, and now she began trailing kisses lower and lower as if they'd never been interrupted. "Are you still thirsty?" she said, tracing her tongue down Harley's rib cage.
Harley swallowed hard. "I think I'll live," she croaked. She caught a glimpse of heat in emerald eyes before Pam slid down lower, and then Harley only saw stars.
Later, they lay tangled and sweaty in the guest bedroom, grinning stupidly at each other as they tended to do. Harley's head was on Pam's chest, and Pam's arms were wrapped around her tight as their heart rates slowed to normal. Harley listened to Pam's heartbeat, learned the rhythm of her inhales and exhales.
When the phone rang, it startled them both. Harley patted the bed, desperately searching for her cell phone, until she realized that it was a landline ringing on the bedside table. Pam was already halfway over there to answer it.
"Hello, Isley residence," Pam said in a smooth voice that revealed nothing of what they'd been doing five minutes earlier. Harley rolled over onto her stomach, chin in her hands, and watched her.
"M-mother," Pam stammered. "Is everything all right?" Both girls froze, looking at each other wide-eyed. Harley mentally calculated how long it would take her to get dressed and . . . shimmy down the drainpipe? Have Alec bring the car around and jump in through the sun roof?
But then Pam's face relaxed, and she actually winked at Harley, and Harley found that she could breathe again. "Of course, Mother. Enjoy the rest of your evening." She paused. "All right then, I hope your evening is fruitful even if it's not enjoyable." She hung up without saying goodbye.
Then she turned to Harley. "Before you tell me what that was about," Harley said, still peering up at her from where she lay on her stomach, "I have to ask – who has a landline in this day and age?"
"Well," said Pam, holding out a hand and helping Harley crawl off the bed, "it's actually quite prudent in this day and age."
"What age, the 1800s?" Harley said. "Hey, don't roll your eyes at me, Isley!" But Pam was already turning away, quickly grabbing the discarded robe from the floor (Harley had to blink to recover from that view) and saying, "If the cell phone towers ever went out, we wouldn't want to be without communication."
"Yes, communication is important," murmured Harley, coming up behind Pam and kissing her shoulder blade, wrapping her arms loosely around Pam's stomach. "Speaking of, what did your mom want?"
Pam leaned back into her embrace. "She just wanted to let me know that she and Father were able to get the presidential suite, so they'll be staying at a hotel tonight." She spun in Harley's arms, leaned down to whisper in her ear: "Which means you'll be staying here tonight."
Harley gulped. She didn't even have a smart comeback for that. "I-I-okay," she stammered. "I should call my, what's the-"
"Your mom?" Pam said, her lips wandering as always to the hollow of Harley's throat.
"Yeah, her," said Harley. "The one who –"
"Gave birth to you?" Pam giggled. Her hands were stroking over Harley's back and lower, pulling their bodies closer together where they stood.
"Yep!" Harley squeaked. She ducked away and ran down the hall to find her phone.
Then she scurried past in the other direction. "Your room's that way!" she said to Pam, who hadn't moved from her spot in the doorway of the guest bedroom and was watching Harley with obvious amusement.
Harley's mom picked up on the second ring. "Everything okay, hon?" Harley could hear Henry making explosion noises in the background as Zeb giggled loudly.
"Yeah, Mom," Harley said. She took a deep breath and, with an encouraging nod from Pam, said quickly, "Mom, I'm going to spend the night over here if that's okay."
Her mom was silent.
"Mom?" Harley said, aware of how pleading her voice sounded.
"Harley . . ." said her mom, "I trust you, and I know you'll be responsible. But, sweetie – are you sure you two are serious? That she feels the same way?"
Harley blushed and snuck a quick glance at Pam to see if she was overhearing her mom's portion of the conversation. "Um, can we talk about that later?" she said quietly.
"Harley, you're asking me to let you spend the night at the house of a girl I've met twice – a charming and lovely girl, from what I can tell – but I don't really know her, and I don't know . . . I'm just worried that if you two get much more serious, she'll break your heart."
"Well, I'd rather have my heart broken by Pamela Isley than be in a relationship with anyone else!" Harley stated firmly. "You asked if we're serious? I've never felt this way about anyone before. I want to be with her, only with her. And – I think she feels the same. Not sure though, because she's kind of a closed-off little robot person. But –" she was cut off when Pam grabbed the phone and said calmly, "Ms. Quinzel, I can assure you that we are serious and that I have no intention of breaking your daughter's heart. I'll have her home to you by 7:30am tomorrow." She ended the call, tossed the phone aside, and pulled Harley into a kiss that became more and more heated until they were just panting against each other.
"So, we're serious then?" Harley said.
"Yes," Pam said evenly. "You're my girlfriend now."
Then she picked Harley up, carried her over to the bed, and showed her exactly what it meant to be Pam Isley's girlfriend.
/
It turned out Pamela didn't need music or current events or the Wall Street Journal. Just Harley was just fine. They lay on the bed facing each other again, Harley's eyes staring intently back at Pam's green ones. The redhead reached out her hand to cup Harley's face, gently stroking her cheek with her thumb. "You are very pretty." She told her, having been thinking the words over and over again since Harley had arrived at her house. Since she'd met Harley on the first day of school.
The blonde smiled cheekily in return. "Like, my face? Is it so pretty?"
Pam stopped the motion of her thumb and cocked her head slightly, wondering briefly if she'd said something wrong. "Well, yes. That's what I was referring to. But I find the rest of you very attractive as well."
Harley blushed as she giggled. "You told me I was pretty that night at Selina's party. I thought…I thought maybe you didn't mean it because, you know…"
Pam smiled sweetly, leaning in a bit, hoping the relief on her face wasn't too obvious. "Normally I would say take the word of an adolescent under the influence of an illicit substance with a grain of salt, but in this case, take me at my word that I absolutely meant it."
Harley took Pam's hand that was still resting on her cheek and kissed the palm, running her lips over the callouses that- try as she might- Pamela could not do away with. Her mother told her she should be wearing gloves in the garden and on the tennis court to protect her hands, to keep them smooth…but Pamela liked the feel of the dirt between her fingers. Of the racquet swinging in her hand.
And then, as Harley began to drag her teeth across Pamela's index finger, a "mild" state of panic set in. Harley still hadn't had water! Or food, for that matter, and that simply would not do. Pamela assumed Harley had already eaten when she arrived, but it was very possible that assumption was incorrect. And then, as if on cue—
Harley said: "I think I worked up an appetite. Got any food in that giant kitchen?"
Pam reached for the phone immediately. "I'll call the chef."
Harley snatched it away from her, laughing the whole time as she moved to straddle her. Pamela didn't quite understand what the laughter was about, but she didn't mind the position…
"We don't need a private chef, Pam." Harley told her as her laughter faded into a smile. "I can cook."
Pam raised an eyebrow. "Is that a fact?"
"Mhm." Harley nodded resolutely. "I can totally cook us dinner."
The redhead was amused. "Not more cheesy pasta, I hope."
Harley laughed again. "That's called 'mac and cheese'. And everybody likes it but you."
Pam rolled her eyes and began snaking her hand up Harley's stomach, between her breasts, until Harley grabbed it and pinned it firmly back on the bed, leaning over her now. "I'm going to make us pancakes."
Without a moment's hesitation, Pam picked up the phone once more.
"Hey!" Harley protested. "No chef, Pam."
"I'm not calling the chef; I'm calling Arkham Asylum." The redhead deadpanned. "Because only an insane person would suggest pancakes for dinner."
Harley pinned Pamela's other hand to the mattress now as well, forcing her to drop the phone. She dipped down and just barely ghosted her lips against the girl's beneath her, murmuring: "It's called 'breakfast for dinner' and it's delicious."
Pam moaned in frustration when Harley pulled back and the blonde wagged a finger playfully, getting up off of the bed.
"Fine." Pamela huffed, sitting up. "But only simple carbohydrates does not a meal make. We'll need a protein as well, and a vegetable."
Now Harley was narrowing her eyes at her. "Bacon, and…potatoes."
"Ham and steamed chard." Pam countered.
"Ham and salad." Harley found the middle ground. "But not on the same plate."
"Deal." Pam smiled, getting up as well and retrieving an identical robe to hers in the guest bathroom for Harley to wear.
"Where's your milk?" Harley wanted to know once they'd made it to the kitchen. She'd instructed Pam to sit down at the bar and not to interfere.
"I thought I wasn't allowed to help you." Pam smiled coyly, propping her elbow on the counter and resting her cheek in her palm.
Harley shot her a look, and repeated the question, slower this time, with more intent: "Where is your milk, Pam?"
"Where is milk usually kept?" The redhead asked with a giggle.
Harley stuck her tongue out and crossed over to the fridge, tugging on the handle to no avail. "What gives, Isley?" When Pam didn't respond right away, Harley tried the same motion again, just harder.
Pam observed, not for the first time, that Harley wasn't exactly a careful girl. So she calmly got up from her stool and came to join Harley at the fridge, pressing a button on the side that unlatched the door. "It keeps the seal tight." Pam explained. "It's more energy efficient that way."
"Stupid space fridge, stupid space car…" Harley mumbled. Pam gave her a reassuring kiss on the forehead before hopping up on the counter to watch her at a closer proximity.
Once the ingredients were assembled, the mixing portion of the process began. Pamela had never seen a person make pancakes before. She sincerely hoped all chefs glanced shyly over their shoulders before adding an ingredient.
"Why did you put lemon in the milk?" Pamela asked, legitimately curious about this seemingly magical process.
"Because you didn't have buttermilk." Harley explained.
"So you're…curdling it yourself?" Pam let her feet drop to the floor so she could walk over to investigate. She somewhat cautiously peered over the brim of the glass measuring cup. "Huh…"
Harley was regarding her curiously. "Do you want to pour it in?"
Pamela gripped the handle and sloshed the milk around slightly. "Can I?"
"Yeah," Harley giggled. "Go ahead."
The redhead stared intently at the stream of milk as she poured. "So the acidity in the lemon mimics the—"
"Oh my god, go faster!" Harley grabbed her hand and poured the remaining portion of the milk in quickly, splashing it up the sides of the bowl. "We don't have all night, Babe."
"Sorry," Pam apologized. "I don't really cook."
"Yeah." Harley grinned. "I noticed. OK, go put a skillet on the stove."
Pam did as she was told. She did occasionally make eggs for herself, so she knew how to operate the stove and she knew what a skillet was. Harley dropped the batter in semi-even blobs on the pan's hot surface.
"We gotta wait til the surface has dry bubbles." Harley instructed. "And I think I know a great way to pass the time…"
Pam smiled slyly, pressing her against the counter and nipping playfully at her earlobe. She was suddenly reminded of that tutoring session in Harley's bedroom, when Harley had done the same to her.
"Pam, Pam!" Harley gasped as she separated from their hungry kiss a few minutes later. "We have to flip them." She giggled in response to the slightly annoyed look on Pam's face. "Humans need food."
Pamela groaned, separating from her and hopping back up onto the opposite counter, once again watching as Harley moved about the kitchen. She completed the meal, setting a few finished cakes onto each plate as well as a thick slice of ham, then simply taking the salad bowl full of greens and plopping it onto the bar between them.
"There ya go." Harley smiled as she slid Pam her plate. "Some Pam-cakes for ya."
"You didn't…" Pamela almost didn't want to believe it. "You didn't make pancakes just so you could make that pun, right?"
Harley laughed. "It was a major factor, fer sure."
Later that night, Pam provided Harley with a pair of pajamas that Harley jokingly remarked she could wear to an office they were so formal.
Harley giggled as Pam walked her through her elaborate skin care routine before she gave Harley the same treatment. Then Pam wiped the products off Harley's face with a warm washcloth, prompting the question, "Are ya gonna shampoo my hair next?" from Harley.
It took a minute for Pam to realize Harley was joking, but even so, she took the question under consideration. "I suppose it would conserve water…"
Harley laughed. "You'll take a shower with me in the name of the environment? How noble."
Pamela smirked as she adjusted the temperature of the water. "Well I am…"
"Mother Nature's Chosen Protector." Harley finished her thought with a giggle.
"In the flesh…" Pam began to slowly unbutton the nightshirt Harley had clearly put on far too early. This time, when the warm water cascaded through her hair and Harley stood exposed before her, Pamela was far braver than she had been in her dream.
"So…" Harley whispered once the lights were out and they'd pulled the blankets over them. Pam could hear her nervousness just in that one word. "Tonight. Your first time. Was it…?"
Pam nuzzled her face into the crook of Harley's neck, smiling against the smooth skin there. "Actually, I thought the third time was the most memorable."
"I am actually a big fan of time number 5." Harley breathed into Pam's freshly washed hair.
"But we didn't-" Pam started to correct her before she felt Harley's slender fingers slip below the waistband of her pajama pants. "Oh, I see how it is." Pam lolled her head to the side, meeting the blonde's lips in a lazy kiss. "Well played, Quinzel."
Harley didn't wake up to the alarm when it rang in the morning, which Pamela thought was both endearing and a little inconvenient. She did, eventually, get her awake, though, and as Pamela drove her home, she couldn't keep a smile off of her face. By the time they pulled up outside Harley's apartment complex, Pam's cheeks were sore.
"Umm…" Harley unbuckled her seatbelt. "So I think that was definitely the best second date ever. Like for anyone in history."
Pam chuckled. "Well given my point of view is the only one I have; I'm inclined to agree. I want to see you again, though. Today." Pamela hoped she didn't sound too desperate. "I thought we could watch a movie. There's a French film playing at the cinema that looks absolutely captivating."
Harley smiled, leaning forward to peck her on the lips. "Mmm…how about Transformers 13 instead?"
"They've made 13 movies about cars that transform into fighting robots?" Pam was appalled.
"Yep!" Harley laughed. "It's great! My mom gets off work at 4, so any time after that and I'm all yours." After a lingering kiss, Pam was watching her run across the lawn and up the stairs to her apartment.
"Harleen Quinzel." Pamela said quietly before starting the engine again. "Girlfriend." There were so many things going on that Pam didn't understand, and that was a completely foreign concept to her. So much had changed in just one night…one perfect night…and Pam felt…abnormal somehow. Like, fulfilled or was it contentedness, maybe? Either way, there was one thing Pamela knew for certain- she couldn't wait for 4pm.
