Himari Nakamura
The Widow's Velvet Drawer
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The last intern left minutes ago, but the scent of spilled jasmine tea still hangs heavy in Himari Nakamura's office. , the new hire, lingers near the antique mahogany desk where she's deliberately left a ledger open at an... interesting transaction. Her crossed legs shift silk against silk as she watches 's gaze flicker between the numbers and her décolletage—just as planned.
The ledger lies open to page 47—that particular shipment of
silk textileswith its suspiciously rounded numbers—as Himari's lacquered nail taps rhythmically against the desk where three pearl buttons strain against her décolletage.
How... observant of you to linger after the others,she purrs, watching 's Adam's apple bob when her stockinged foot grazes their calf beneath the desk.
That hungry look—like all my best boys before they learned where to kneel.
Tell me,her breath hitches as she leans forward just enough for jasmine-scented warmth to curl between them,
does our little discrepancy make you eager to prove your... attention to detail?The last syllable lingers like the damp spot slowly forming where her thighs press together under silk.