My Vietnamese Secretary

The weekend passed rather uneventfully. Monday morning was strangely surreal. Sometimes it was almost as though nothing had happened; there was no sign on my assistant's face or in her behaviour to suggest that we had had an experience of sorts on Friday evening. I can't fully recall how I got over that but the work week took on its normal routine with meetings, conference calls, a day trip to Saigon, one new deal signed. In fact, nothing happened out of the ordinary for the next two weeks.

It was almost like we had turned the clock back a couple of months. She still walked in and out of my office freely, sometimes standing and taking an instruction, at other times sitting on the couch and getting documents signed. And I still kept ogling her legs and thighs, catching a glimpse occasionally of cleavage, staring at the soft full red lips, and completely unable to bring up our last encounter for discussion.

In the intervening weekends, more to get over the tedium of nothingness, I visited some of the country's famed beach towns like Da Nang and Nha Trang. And then one Monday, we got it back together.

It was late and I had just finished a long conference call between Headquarters in Paris and our Singapore regional office. I stretched out from behind my desk, rising and walking to the west facing glass wall of my 14th floor corner office. Almost all the lights in the office behind me were shut and it was in near darkness. Outside, I saw the trail of automobile lights as a main arterial road meandered its was across the city; red on one side and golden on the other. Across to the right as well as on the left of the huge glass pane, two lakes rippled as the night breeze drifted across their surface. I stood there absorbing the beauty of the night, faint and unobtrusive sounds rising up from the streets.

I didn't hear the frosted glass swing door open, nor her footsteps, but I felt her presence behind me. I continued to stare out into the night as her arms slid up from my waist to my chest and she was hugging me from behind. She placed the flat of her face against my back and held on like that till I turned around after about a minute.

I looked down at her face and saw the wetness glistening in her eyes. She looked sad and my heart wrenched. "What? Diep? What's the matter?" I whispered. She didn't respond; instead, she bent her head down and placed her cheek against my tie, between the lapels of my suit jacket. Without a thought, I wrapped my arms around her and drew her closer, smelling a delicate aroma that rose from the top of her head. I gently kissed the top of her head and held her close, not asking any more questions, not saying a word.

Her breathing was deep and slow and her chest moved in unison to her breath as she pressed against me. After more than a minute she raised her head and looked up at me. My mouth found her lips and I kissed her, one hand cradling the back of her head and the other around her waist. We kissed deep and long; I slipped my tongue into her mouth and ran it along the ridges of her teeth as her tongue tried to entangle with mine. I sucked on the fullness of her lips before she pushed her tongue into my mouth and I pulled her harder towards me.

We held each other tight. I cupped her face in my hands and kissed her all over. I kissed her forehead; then her eyes, tasting the saltiness of her tears. I kissed her cheeks and again her mouth. I felt such a strong outpouring of love for this woman as I held her body against mine.

She was wearing a single piece garment; a yellow shirt with floral print. It was a very long shirt that came down to mid thigh and was buttoned down the entire length, the sleeve had cuffs which were turned back to her elbows. With the lights still on inside my office, I could faintly discern the white panties and brassiere she wore underneath. During the day she had a long stole, something like a poncho but without a hole to slip the head through, draped over her so her lingerie was not visible. But now it was.

After a few minutes of our passionate embrace, I disentangled myself from her and walked to the corner where I switched off the overhead lights. Only a table lamp on my desk lit up the room. I walked back to her, took her in my arms again, and kissed her on the mouth. I didn't want to break the silence and was scared that she might talk. But she didn't. Diep gave her mouth up to me and encircled my body with her arms.

I reached down as far as my hands would go and pulled up the hem of her shirt, placing my palms on her arse. Her hands were now on the back of my head as she drew my tongue out into her mouth, giving me the most erotic sensations a kiss can ever give. I knew she could feel the bulge in my pants press against her as I slipped my hands into her panties from the back and felt the taut skin across her buttocks. I clasped them as I pulled her into me, fully aware of my fingers pulling her arse cheeks apart and digging into the crevice between them.

Her rump was firm, smooth, perfectly shaped, and I wanted it so much. I couldn't get enough as my hands rubbed her arse from across the contours, top to bottom, left to right. My knuckles pushed out the panties as my fingers went lower and I felt the warmth emanate from her pussy, outliers of her pubic hair like spidery tips of a much bushier undergrowth just out of my reach. I felt some of the wetness and wanted more. I wanted my face against that dense undergrowth, I wanted my lips on her puckered arsehole, I wanted my tongue probing her orifices. I wanted it all, and I wanted it now.

"Sir, can I take you out for dinner?" she whispered against my lips. "We must go now, the office cleaners will be coming".

I was shocked back into reality but knew that my assistant was being pragmatic. I fought with my own conscience for a second, telling myself that I need to cool down and nothing was going to happen on these premises. I pulled my hands out from inside her panties, kissed her on the mouth again, and stepped away. She switched the lights on and went out of the door. I straightened my tie, pulled my jacket down sharply, and followed her out.

Diep was on the phone, standing next to her desk, when I stepped out of my office. I stood and waited while she concluded a conversation in Vietnamese; my heart jumped as I thought back to the last time were making out in the office when she received a phone call and had to leave. "I've booked a table at Le Beaulieu", she said as she turned off her cellphone. That was one of the restaurants at the Sofitel Legend Metropole where I had stayed when I arrived in Hanoi, and where I had first met my assistant.

I smiled, more in relief than at the pleasure of hearing where we would dine. "Great! Let's go" I said, and took her by the arm as we walked towards the bank of elevators.

"Sir?" she asked quizzically. I looked at her and saw her look pointedly at my hand on her arm. Embarrassed, I removed my hold on her, realising that I wasn't thinking straight at all; we were in the office dammit! I saw her smile.

We got to the hotel a little before the reservation time and so sat at the Bamboo Bar next to the pool for half an hour. I ordered a double Jack Daniel's on ice and Diep asked for a glass of red wine, a Cabernet Franc I think.

There was a sudden freedom to our conversation as I asked Diep about herself. When I told her "I don't know anything about you, Diep", she replied with "That's because you never asked me, Sir."

"Can you stop calling me 'Sir'?" I asked.

"No, Sir". And I left it at that. I didn't ask for the reason because she was so definitive in her response.

But I learnt a number of other things. She had been married. Not any more though. And I didn't probe that subject. She had a two year young daughter. She lived in her Mother's house, as did her younger sister. But her parents lived in a government granted house because the Mother was working for the government in a province not too far from Hanoi. She had studied in the UK, getting her degree from London University. She wanted to pursue a PhD but thought it may be too late now. She loved working at our firm but was not sure if she would continue after I left.

"When will you leave Vietnam, Sir? When will you go back to India?", Diep asked as I was ordering a second drink.

My drink arrived a couple of minutes later and I still hadn't replied. She was still looking at me, waiting for a response. "When my work is done, Diep; when my work is done."

I looked at her as I spoke. She kept staring at me as her eyes moistened. Then glistened. And a single tear rolled down her cheek. She hastily raised a hand and wiped it away, now looking down into her wine. My heart was heavy; I wanted to take her in my arms and hold her. I took a sip of whiskey and put the tumbler back on the table. "I don't know. I don't know when I will go back. It could be a long time before we find someone to head the Vietnam office, so I really don't have any idea right now." That was the truth, and I hoped it would do something to alleviate her mood.

She looked up at me and smiled. "It's OK, Sir", she said softly, "We all have to go sometime, right?"

We were informed that our table was ready, and the maitre d' offered to have our drinks taken to dinner. The Le Beaulieu was crowded and we were given a small corner table for two, away from the entrance. Seating was on one side of the table only, and Diep slipped in first and slid along the two-seater to the wall on her left. Behind us was a coloured light that cast a soft glow on the cutlery and white table cloth.

I didn't ask Diep what she wanted to eat; just ordered for both of us, and another glass of Cabernet Franc for her. We talked about the places I had been to over the last few weekends, and she mentioned some more getaways I could go to. We talked about the street food in Hanoi and the Old Quarter, we spoke about India and France, and the many countries we had visited. We just talked.

While waiting for the food, I was given another Jack on ice without having ordered it. That was fine by me; the whiskey was making me talk and I was enjoying it. After about 15 minutes, dinner arrived. We cleared some space and then sat back as the waiter laid the table. My hands were on the sofa by my sides and when Diep leaned against the back rest, she put her hands down as well. Her right hand touched my left and I instinctively turned my palm upwards and held her hand in mine.

I looked down and saw how I had completely enveloped her small hand in mine. I also saw how her shirt, her long shirt, the dress she was wearing, had ridden up her thighs and were barely below her panties. The drape of the table cloth hid anyone else's view of her thighs and all that skin.

I can't remember for sure but I think I'd ordered a Dover Sole Meuniere for Diep and an Angus beef Rossini for myself. But what I do remember distinctly was that we shared our food. I cut a piece of the beef fillet roast and placed it on her plate with some veggies and she cut a section of her fish and put in on my plate. Between bites, we held hands. At one stage I put my left hand on her thigh and rubbed along the length of the silky smoothness down to her knee and back up again.

We were in a playful mood after the drinks; she laughed with me and we enjoyed ourselves. While stroking her right thigh, I kept a look out for any waiters that came too close and removed my hand every time someone did. But in one moment of boldness, I pulled her shirt all the way up to her crotch and rubbed the side of my palm against her panties, between her thighs. In return, she reached across and placed her hand on the obvious bulge in my pants.

She giggled embarrassedly, hiding the blush on her face by raising her wine glass and taking a sip of the red. After she put her goblet down on the table, her hand went under the tablecloth and searched between my thighs till she found the huge bulge in my pants. It was hot and throbbing and she just rested her palm over it for a while. I was too stunned to look at her, having been caught completely unawares. I was also scared that she might burst into giggles if I looked her in the eyes.

But then I reached for my cutlery instead and cut a small piece of the Angus beef, rubbed it over some straying black pepper sauce and forked it into my mouth. When I glance sideways to look at her, she still had her hand over my erection and a provocative look on her face. Her lips were wet and parted and there was a fine sheen of sweat on her face despite the air conditioned atmosphere. I said something, just small talk, to distract her or bring her back to the reality of our dinner.

She smiled at me and reached into her bag to pluck out her cellphone. I was somewhat surprised but continued with my meal. She spoke in Vietnamese to someone on the phone and my mind once again went back to the mysterious phone call that had interrupted our dalliance a couple of weeks ago. When she finished chatting, she put the phone back in her bag and focussed on her dinner.

After dinner was done, we were contemplating another glass of wine for her and maybe a dessert to go. While looking at the dessert card, she had her right hand over my hard bulge again. I called the waiter and asked for two glasses of red while she still browsed the menu. I peered down pretending to read but glimpsed her exposed thigh as she sat very still on the settee. I slid my hand along her shank till it almost reached her arse, way back so that even the tablecloth drape didn't cover my ministrations from view.

I sensed a waitress returning and quickly placed both hands on the table. I looked up at her as she placed the glasses of wine on the table and asked "Have you decided what you'd like to have for dessert, Sir?" Before I could respond, I felt Diep's nimble fingers slowly pull down the zipper on my fly. I was so taken aback, I sounded completely incomprehensible as I tried to tell the waitress that we probably wouldn't have anything. By the time I was telling her to get the bill for us, Diep had extracted the full length of my stiffness from my pants and had her fingers wrapped around it.

When the woman went away to get the check, I looked at Diep and said "What the hell are you doing?" But I wasn't angry or anything, just too stupefied. She smiled seductively at me as I furtively replaced my cock in my pants, with considerable difficulty. I was unable to zip my trousers back till I had placed my credit card in the bill folder and the waitress went away. Focussing on something other than my secretary sitting next to me, I managed to get my penis into a more manageable size before pulling the zipper up seconds before the server returned.

We got up from the table some minutes later; I put on my jacket while Diep straightened her dress before sidling out from behind the table. Everybody at the Sofitel Legend thanked us, wished us a good night, as we walked from the restaurant, across the lobby, and to the exit. I was taking out my phone to call the driver, trying to figure out what we would do next. I guessed I would just drop my assistant home and then proceed to my lonely lakeside apartment to another lonely night.

As the door was opened for us, Diep place her hand gently on mine, looked up at me and said, "Put the phone away, Sir. And don't say anything for the next three minutes." A soft smile played at the corner of her mouth. I was confused, naturally, but happy to comply with her demand. Three whiskies and a glass of wine made me fairly pliant to her whims and wishes. She said something in Vietnamese to the doorman and he scuttled off back into the lobby.

Less than a minute later, he was back outside as a black BMW G12 7 series pulled up to the porch. A uniformed driver got out and rushed to our side to open the door. I walked across to the flip side as he ushered Diep into the plush interior. Placing a 100,000 Dong note into the doorman's hand as he opened the door for me, I slid in next to my secretary. She spoke again in Vietnamese to the driver as I leaned back into the soft leather upholstery. My three minutes of silence I thought were over so I looked across at her and said somewhat jocularly "What's going on, my sweet lady?"

"Nothing, we're going home."

"What home? Who's home?" But I knew from the U-turn that the driver took, we were going to my place by the lake. Diep of course knew exactly where it was although she'd never visited me before. She had found the flat for me.

"I told your driver to leave because we were going to be late." But I knew why she had told him to leave. She didn't want him knowing that she was coming home with me. My brain was still trying to process the fact that we were going to be together this night. I did not want to over analyse what was happening; just happy to take in what the night had in store. Compared to our behaviour inside the restaurant, we sat very primly in the car as it streaked through the relatively empty streets late at night.

Twenty minutes later we were home. As the chauffeur opened the door for my assistant, I got off on the street side. By the time I got around the vehicle, he was bowing to me and saying good-night. I wished him "Tan biet" as Diep took my hand and led me to the building entrance. There was a keypad lock which I punched with my fingertips and the glass door clicked open. Still holding my hand, she walked purposefully to the elevator, pressed the floor number, and we were up in thirty seconds. There was only one unit on each floor, the entrance to which was just outside the elevator. I extracted the key from my pants pocket and unlocked it as the elevator descended back down to the lobby.

It was dark inside; our eyes adjusted slowly as I locked the door and turned to Diep. I wanted to take her in my arms immediately, and in fact did exactly that. I kissed her on the mouth, leaning hard into her, pressing her back against the half-sized cupboard behind her. After a minute of lips locked together and our tongues darting in and out of each other's mouths, she stepped back and whispered into my ear, "Let's start again". We slipped out of our shoes, as everyone does in Vietnam, before entering the rest of the house with its parquet flooring.

She took my hand again and led me to the bar. I pulled out a Cabernet Sauvignon from the rack and uncorked it while she walked around the living room. We hadn't switched on any of the lamps but street and building lights from across the lake and a streetlamp ten yards to the right provided a dim glow in the room. Some LEDs on the side of the bar added a little to the ambience.

With glasses in hand, I turned around and saw Diep silhouetted against the light, looking out from my third floor apartment to the simmering waters on the surface of Westlake. A gentle breeze swayed the large potted fronds on the balcony, casting shadows on the walls inside. She seemed to have untied her hair, or removed a clasp, as the golden-black-brown waves rested on her back, a few inched below her shoulders. The beautiful figure of her body was outlined beneath her floral printed one piece dress, the long shirt that she wore today. She pried open the glass sliding doors and stepped out into the balcony.

I walked across the living room and followed her out on to the verandah. As she took the glass from my outstretched hand, she tilted her head back and offered her lips to me. I kissed her gently, holding her with my free hand around her waist. We then turned to face the lake, its other shore about a kilometre and a half across. Street lights and neons reflected on the surface. Thirty feet below the balcony, a woman wearing a conical straw hat cycled past on the road, having sold her coconut and tapioca cakes and now presumably returning home. It was quiet outside, and the breeze was picking up somewhat.