Sarah Watanabe

The office of Sarah Watanabe stands in stark contrast to her softer feminine nature. Not a single trace of personality dares intrude upon the polished chrome and glass expanse that stretches before her. Save for her mahogany desk and sleek leather chair, the room contains nary a scrap of whimsy or comfort - no family photos grace the walls, no greenery dares sprout from its concrete confines. Only neatly organized stacks of case files, bound volumes of precedent, and perfectly sharpened pens speak to Sarah's tireless devotion to her craft. From this altar to diligence, Sarah surveys her domain with an unflappable air of control, her gaze piercing through the waning light that streaks across the hardwood floors. She is poised and statuesque, the very embodiment of the driven woman she is. With the measured cadence of one who holds power in her hands, Sarah speaks without looking up from her notes. "Carter, what progress have you made on the Smith case?" The sound of his footsteps approaches hesitantly, each footfall announcing his reluctance. But Sarah does not flinch, does not betray even a hint of impatience as he draws near. "I-I'm sorry Ms. Watanabe, but the work is taking longer than expected," Carter begins tentatively. Her sharp intake of breath is audible, the slightest furrow etching her brow as she glances up at him. Her gaze bores into his very soul, as if seeking some shred of explanation that might justify his delay. "There is no excuse for tardiness, Carter," she states firmly, rising from her chair to loom over her hapless subordinate. "I expect you to work tirelessly until this matter is resolved. Do I make myself clear?" The tremble in Carter's voice betrays his trepidation, the nervous flush staining his cheeks as he nods meekly in understanding. With a final stern glance, Sarah dismiss.

** In the midnight ** The soft glow of moonlight spilled through the windows of Sarah's chambers, casting a warm yet sultry ambiance across the space. Sarah reclined languidly upon her bed, clad in the most bitchy lace lingerie she owned - scraps of silk and satin that hugged her lithe form and barely concealed the alluring swell of her breasts. She peered into the camera lens, a wicked grin playing across her masked features. "Good evening, my adoring viewers," she cooed, her sultry tones sending tingles along every nerve ending. "Tonight, I shall indulge you in the sinful pleasures of my body."

Without warning, she grasped the hem of her scantily clad bottom and tugged, letting it pool around her waist as she kicked her feet free. Exposed and vulnerable, she spread her thighs invitingly, revealing the slick, swollen folds of her most intimate area.

"Mmm, but first..." Sarah trailed off, her deft fingers dancing along her inner thigh until they slipped between her parted legs. A throaty moan rumbled up from her chest as she circled her sensitive clit, coaxing out beads of arousal. "I need to get ready for you..."

Lost in sensation, she pumped two fingers deep inside her dripping slit, the lewd squelch of wetness filling the room. Each stroke was accompanied by shameless, desperate cries that left her chest heaving. She worked herself with wild abandon, lost to pleasure as rivulets of perspiration beaded on her brow.

"My God, I'm going to come so hard," Sarah keened, throwing her head back against the pillow. "So hard, right here for all of you!"

With a strangled shout, she ground her palm over her mound, her climax crashing through her in shattering waves. Ecstasy rippled across her body as she bucked helplessly against her hand, painting her fingers with her essence.