My Vietnamese Secretary Pt. 04

My name is Nguyet. I'm a Vietnamese girl working for a French company in Hanoi. It's a great job, looking after business development primarily in Vietnam but also in the surrounding Indochina region. My work-life balance is in a pleasant state of equilibrium where I get enough time with my children and my parents. The pay and benefits are good. My colleagues are wonderful people; all of them, except one, are Vietnamese.

I'm well into my '30s but I don't really look my age. My height is average for an oriental, about 5'2"; I don't have a shape to match the conventional western sex bomb but with a 34C bra size, a 24" waist, and hips of 34" I think I cut a decent figure. I wear my dark black hair short to about shoulder length. I also wear glasses but I haven't had my eyes checked in many years so I suspect I need some visual correction.

My skin is smooth and I love my complexion which has a golden hue when seen in sunlight, and a light tan in the shade. I have a wide forehead and an oval shaped face that looks flat, like many east asians. My body is firm at all the right places and the skin is still taut; I have no sag either on my breasts or my buttocks.

Back at office, like I said before, my boss is a foreigner. He's French and his name is Hjjer. Technically, he's my boss' boss, but since our former GM resigned a few months ago, Hjjer - who heads our Regional Office in Delhi, India - has relocated to Hanoi to double as the Country Head. I don't know if he or anyone in our Head Office is looking for a Vietnam Country Head; we haven't heard anything. So it looks like Hjjer is going to be around for a while.

Hjjer and I have a good working relationship. A few months ago his secretary left the organisation, putting him in a rather difficult situation. Thinking it would be temporary, I offered to help him, and so took over running the GM's office in a role somewhat like a Chief of Staff. Of course, I continue to handle my own department as Head of Business Development. It's time consuming and hectic, but Hjjer is under a lot of pressure too so it's Ok; I don't mind.

Some weeks ago, after we'd had a rather successful month closing two deals - one in Korea and another in Vietnam - the office had decided to party. We rather surprised Hjjer, having organized a drinks-and-dinner thing at a rooftop restaurant and then buttonholed him into joining us. He was really tired that evening but showed up like a good sport. That was the first evening I'd really spent any social time with him.

He was marvelous company, although I remember waiting till the throng of colleagues finally left him alone before I even approached him. He got me a glass of wine from the bar, we talked, he escorted me down to lobby and offered to drop me home. In fact he was quite insistent but I turned down the offer and took a cab instead.

The following week he went off on a business trip; I can't recall where but I think it was either Singapore or Tokyo. Or maybe both. But when he got back it was a weekend, and as is his wont, he called all of his Department Heads to get a briefing in the evening. I remember his call to me was rather late and I was still at the office. We talked about office work for about half an hour, and then somewhere along the line the conversation veered away from work.

And then he invited me to his home. I was caught completely off guard. First I was flustered, then I was nervous. And finally I was panicked. I'm not sure why those were my reactions; I never subsequently bothered to analyze my state of mind when he said "Why don't you come over?"

In any case, I agreed and told him I'd be at his house in about half an hour. I thought I knew the location of the house because Hjjer had pin pointed it to us on a large map of Hanoi that hung on one wall in the office. I got into a cab and the driver understood fairly clearly which road I wanted to get on to. But every minute of the drive saw an increasing level of panic rise in my gut, and then in my throat. I was nervous as hell, but deflected that by not dwelling on the subject.

When I got to the road that skirted the lakefront of Tay Ho where he lived, and I figured it would be about 500 metres away, the anxiety and trepidation really set in. In desperation I called Hjjer to tell him I was turning back and I'd come some other day. I dialed his number on my cell and waited anxiously for him to pick up while the connection was being made. He did in barely a second, not giving me enough time to compose my cowardly retreat.

The second I heard his beautiful, deep baritone, I said "Hjjer, I'm going back, I can't find your house." There was silence at the other end; it lasted what seemed like a long time but probably wasn't more than three or four seconds. Then the voice came back. It was controlled but with a certain edge to it that I couldn't decipher at that moment. "Wait! Where are you?" he asked.

"I don't know", I said.

Soothing baritone responded, in complete control, "Look out of the window and read out any signboard that you see." I was sitting at the back of the taxi, on the passenger side and so my window faced the curb and not the lake. I peered out and saw a sign that said 'Nguyen Vic Apartments' so I spoke that out into the phone.

"Ok. Tell the cabbie to slow down, you're barely 100 metres away. Are you in a green cab?" I heard him ask. I was mesmerized with the sudden control his voice had over me. I told the cab to slow down and keep driving. Then I replied into the phone, "Yes, a green Mai Lin taxi."

"I can see you" I heard Hjjer's voice just as we took a bend in the road, "You're 5 houses away." And a few seconds later I heard him say "Stop! Stop!" I repeated that to the driver and he stopped. I didn't look out of the window, having complete trust in the voice in my ear. I didn't dare switch off the phone as I paid the taxi fare to the driver. Then I opened the door and carefully stepped out, the phone still close to my ear.

I was scared and a little embarrassed. There was a security guard standing outside the glass door entrance to a building. "Now look up" I heard in my ear. I did, and three floors up I saw the handsome face of my boss, grinning down at me. Still on the phone, I heard him say "Ignore the security guy and walk in confidently if the door's open." It was, and as the security guard asked me where I was headed, I ignored him and walked past with what I thought was a haughty air about me.

As I walked into a mosaic floored interior, Hjjer said "Get into the elevator and press three". I did. When the doors of the lift parted, he was standing right there in front of me. I wanted to throw myself on to him but resisted the urge and walked in to his apartment behind him instead. I took off my shoes and walked across the parquet floor into his house. It was the living room and had the most beautiful view of Ho Tay, Westlake, that I had ever seen from close up.

It was dark outside and the lights from across the lake reflected on the rippling surface of the water. I parted the glass sliding doors and stepped out into the balcony, breathing in the fresh if somewhat warm air outside. Hjjer came out and we stood next to each other, looking at the twinkling reflections. I hoped that he would slips an arm around my waist and stand like a romantic couple under the night sky. I couldn't understand how my mood had swung from panic to quiet comfort.

After a while, Hjjer turned around and walked back into the apartment; he was clearly not comfortable with the heat because he had the air-conditioning running inside. The sliding doors were still parted so I walked back in and sat on a couch from where I could enjoy the view. He was bumbling around near his bar when he asked me if I would like a glass of wine. The trepidation set in again, but I agreed.

He came back holding a wineglass and a highball. He handed me a red and sat on an armchair a few feet away with his whiskey. We were almost in line with each other, not sitting opposite; I was on a three-seater and he on a single. We talked; I can't remember what it was about but probably some inanities. I sensed he was a little nervous too, which was strange because Hjjer is always in control of himself. I felt I wanted to comfort him and ease his worry, but my own sense of dread hadn't quite dissipated.

He finished his drink in about ten minutes and I had only taken a couple of sips. He asked if perhaps I didn't like the wine. But it was nice; I did in fact like it so I said I'd have another one. The truth is I'm not much of a drinker and two glasses of wine puts me in my happy place. By the time Hjjer got back with another whiskey for himself and a fresh glass of wine for me, I had finished the first drink. And I was feeling good, the hint of a buzz in my head and a smile on my face.

I was looking out at the lights again, the shimmer of the lake surface, when I glanced at Hjjer who was just outside my line of sight. He was staring intently at me but quickly averted his eyes when I looked at him. There had been a very intense look on his face, his eyes almost sad as he seemed to drink the vision of me sitting in front of him. When he turned away, there was a flash of embarrassment as he stood up and went on to the balcony for a smoke.

I looked at his back, upright and strong, v-shaped from his broad shoulders to his slim hips; the thick curls of his hair falling over the collar of his shirt. I so wanted to get up and stand behind him; run my fingers over his muscular arms and torso, smell the male aroma that emanated from him, hug him close to my body. There was a slight tingling at my fingertips and a warmth in my genitals; I was getting turned on just looking at this man.

"Why don't you come sit next to me?" he suddenly asked.

"How can? You're sitting on a single chair" I replied, feeling shy as my face reddened at his bluntness. The room was lit only by a couple of table lamps so I don't think he saw me blush.

He stood up from his armchair saying "In that case can I come and sit next to you?"

I nodded, feeling a heat overpower my face, as I fidgeted with my wineglass. I took two big gulps as he placed his tumbler on the side table and sat beside me. I stared outside at the lights across the lake, at a slight angle away from where Hjjer sat. My heart was beating wildly as a panic began to creep all over me. My body was tingling in anticipation at the same time; I so wanted him to hold me but didn't dare think of what would come next.

And then I felt his hand at the nape of my neck, his fingers lightly caressing the base of my head at the back. For half a minute I froze as the gentle pressure of his hand kneaded my shoulder. After a while, his hand snuck around to my face and his fingers traced delicate lines all over; they tracked my jawline and up over my cheekbones, they went to my forehead and down again to my neck. I felt the warmth from his finger pads against my throat and under my chin.

I felt his chest against my back as he placed his face in my hair at the back of my head, breathing in the general aroma of shampoo and conditioner. I felt his nose and his chin against my skull as he reveled in my hair. I couldn't control the desire so I turned around and faced him, wrapping my arms around his neck and tilting my head back a bit. I drew his face down to mine and found his mouth with my lips.

I tasted the whiskey and tobacco on his lips as I ran my tongue along their edges. And then he pushed his tongue into my mouth and suddenly the soft romance turned into a passionate bout of kissing. I had wanted this for so long; I felt like parched earth receiving a bountiful rainfall. The tempo of my breathing increased as I sucked on his tongue and his lips, thrusting my own into his mouth. Our tongues fenced, our teeth clashed as I resisted the urge to bite down on his lips.

Hjjer had his arms wrapped around me, drawing me hard against his body. The passion that had overtaken me was in overdrive and I found myself unable to control my body. I wanted to feel his skin and made a first attempt at slipping my hands under his shirt; but I encountered a vest or t-shirt underneath. Out of desperation, I clutched at the fabric and pulled it out of his trousers till I finally got a hand on to his abdomen and his chest.

Just the thought of this first touch was as intoxicating as the touch itself. I felt the taut muscular upper abdomen and the smoothness of his skin. As my hand roamed further up his torso, the soft downy hair on his chest and the masculine pectoral muscles that guarded his ribcage rubbed against my palm. His tongue was deep in my mouth, swishing across my tongue and the edges of my teeth. My breasts were pressed hard against him. As I found one of his nipples between my thumb and fingertip, his body seemed to tense and grow larger.

I knew I was wet with genital arousal and now I felt a general stimulation as my vaginal walls seemed to enlarge; my nipples felt harder and the sensations around all my erogenous zones were getting more heightened. I continued to rub his nipples and felt his breathing deepen. He cradled the back of my head on one hand as we kissed deeply and passionately, trying to get the most out of this stolen piece of time, not knowing where we were going or for how long.

And then I felt his hands over my boobs; of course I was still wearing my jersey knit T and a brassiere underneath by Hjjer's hand seemed to knowingly trace the contours. His fingers first traced the delicate edge of my brassiere, running along the underwire from one side to the other. The along the upper edges around one breast, down into the cleavage and again over the other curve. It was erotic subtlety at its most titillating.

His fingertips easily found the protrusion of my extremely hardened nipples as they thrust out from my chest and pushed out against my bra and shirt. I imagined them as distinctive projections, long and hard knobs that jutted out as his palms ran over them. There was an urgency building up in the movements of his hands and his mouth; I could feel his thighs and legs move uncomfortably as they sought a certain release from the emotional confines of his considerate mind. I knew he wanted more, just as I did.

But then there seemed to be sudden switch in his demeanour. He took his hands away from my breasts and cupped my face instead. His kisses were gentle and loving, fingers delicately tracing lines on my cheeks. He hugged me tight in a comforting, protective embrace as we continued to kiss. He sucked gently on my lips, pushing his tongue into my mouth not like a ravenous steed but like a gentle lover. I felt a mood swing and my heart went out to this man. Handsome, caring, compassionate, shielding, gallant... everything a woman could want.

But my juices were still flowing, and I suspected that the flow was more akin to a torrent. My cunt seemed to be on fire as i twisted my body to face Hjjer completely. I had one hand under his vest, and the other I wrapped around his neck pulling his mouth harder against mine. I lifted my left leg and draped my thigh over his left side, between his hip and his knee. My breasts were pushed hard against his chest as I felt his thigh between my legs.

We both had our clothes on but as I rubbed myself, not so subtly, against him I felt the heat and hardness of his penis through my denim jeans and his trousers. I knew his erection was bound to be uncomfortable within the confines of his clothes but I sought out the enormous girth with the underside of my thigh and rubbed hungrily against it. I slid upwards against his cock as I brought my mouth to his; my nipples tingled as they brushed hard against his shirt.

Things began to pick up tempo suddenly; I felt Hjjer remove his hands from around me and deftly glide them under my shirt. His hands stayed briefly on the flat of my stomach, huge palms swathed my skin. I groaned loudly, the breath escaping from my lungs as I continued to rub my crotch against the massive bulge in his trousers. His hands were over my bra, cupping one breast after another, then clutching harder as he rubbed the nipples vehemently.

I continued to rub my cunt against his swollen manhood; I could feel my juices in full flow, the wetness making my panties soggy. I moved my hips up and down the length of his thigh and sideways over the ever growing tumescence in his pants. His hands finally pushed my brassiere up over my breasts and I felt his palms on my naked tits, my nipples thrusting into them as his fingers strummed the sensitive bundle of nerves.

The strength of my desires was beginning to overpower me; I could feel the first waves of an impending tsunami of lust and passion begin to rise from somewhere deep inside. As I rubbed my self against him and feverishly sought the deep recess of his mouth with my tongue, Hjjer suddenly removed a hand from under my shirt and I felt an emptiness over my breast. He sought out one of my hands from around his neck and slowly drew it down to his crotch.

For the first time I felt exactly how large his shaft was; with my fingers I traced the coiled length of the heated rod in his pants from the base to the tip, twisted somewhat but still running against his thigh. Its girth was almost like my wrist as I tried to wrap my fingers around it, trying to clamp on to it. I felt his arms go around me and rest on my buttocks, the denim stretched taut across it as I pushed my ass back slightly. Both his hands caressed the two halves of my derriere as I continued to rub his manhood.

And then, like a thunderous bolt of lightening, I knew that I couldn't let this happen; not tonight. I pushed away slightly and whispered "I need to go, Hjjer" and buried my face in his shoulder. I felt suddenly deflated. Of course, it took a lot of will power to stop and suppress the waves of desire that had already started to overtake me. But most of all, my heart bled for the man in whose arms I had found such comfort and passion this evening.

I could feel the wind go out of him, but he was very controlled. When I began to stand up, he saw the tears running down my cheeks and immediately a look of deep concern came over his face. "Are you alright? Nguyet? It's alright if you have to go. I understand. I ... I ... I'll come and get you a cab. It's OK." And when I herd these words spoken softly, with deep understanding and concern, I couldn't stop crying. I fell back against him and heaved and sobbed for a long time. He even pushed his hands back under my shirt and straightened the brassiere over my breasts, then cupped my face and said, "Let's just wait another ten minutes, and I'll have the security guy call a taxi."

As I settled back willingly against his body, my leg draped over his thigh again and my boobs plastered on his chest, Hjjer took a sip from his whisky glass before wrapping his arms around me and placing his palms on my buttocks. For a brief second, I thought this felt as though there had been no stupid interruption on my part. But I felt confident that he would live by his word; whatever happened, he would let me go in ten minutes.

For a minute we held each other but I soon found my hand on his penis, stroking it to the maddening thickness of before. I was playing with fire, stoking the embers of our previous foreplay. And when the swelling in his trousers was once again rampant and hot, I found myself rubbing my thighs and genitals over him. His grip on my arse was steely now, and he pulled me hard against him. He sought my mouth and thrust his tongue deep, deep inside, as though he was trying to brand me with the intensity of his desire.

I cried out, groaned and screamed as I rubbed against his hardness, feeling the strength of his grip on my arse. I continued to rub against him, driving him into a manic desperation as he brought one hand forward and feverishly tried to unbutton my jeans. I myself was lost in this new flooding of lust that drenched my senses. I raised up my torso from his groin, allowing him to release the button on the waistband.