Surreptitious Love Ch. 172

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Chapter 172 – Mister Nakamura (1)

‘Ben, would you fancy lunch with Mister Nakamura on Thursday?’ my long-term affair and muse Nguyet had written yesterday morning. Of course, I was always keen on seeing her, and when I inquired who the man actually was, she replied that I could meet one of the head honchos of an international real-estate conglomerate that was keen on entering the Vietnamese market for second- and third-tier cities, like ours. Mister Nakamura would continue his trip up north on Thursday late afternoon or evening, Nguyet told me further, and after the lunch with him ‘you and I can go to the empty hotel’, she added; with a smiley at the end of the sentence.

Of course, I instantly knew what she meant. What made her proposal particularly enthralling was that I immediately envisioned her in a snazzy dress or business outfit with stockings, or even tights and a garter-belt, as she was wont to wear on such occasions. Naturally, I asked her why Mister Nakamura was so keen on meeting me – as I wasn’t even working in real-estate – to which she replied laconically that he may just want a seasoned man of his generation at the table who he could have a deep conversation with, perhaps about politics or history. Later that day, Nguyet admitted though that she also preferred me to be there, as Mister Nakamura – as fascinating as he was – also had something quite intimidating about him.

And so, I shaved on Thursday morning, put on my best pair of dress pants, and clipped my fingernails. I decided to do without a tie, since it would be close to 100 degrees again, as always in June, here in Central Vietnam. Our small provincial town was pretty informal, anyway, although Mister Nakamura would probably show up as neat as a pin. Oh well, I wasn’t going to a job interview; neither was he my boss. All he wanted was to have a stimulating conversation partner and, for me, the hour afterwards with my muse Nguyet, who had picked one of the fanciest restaurants in town, was indefinitely more important.

As I was waiting for the two of them, I smoked a ciggy, of course, and then watched how they got out of his big, fancy white Lexus. Nguyet was wearing a black strapless dress that would have exposed her slim light shoulders nicely, hadn’t it been for the fact that she was also sporting a light cardigan. Her dress was rather short, emphasizing her slightly athletic legs with that awesome dividing line between the front and back muscles of her thighs, even though she was also wearing light pantyhose. Oh, man, did she look hot on this hot day! At least, Mister Nakamura wasn’t wearing suit, either, but just nice dark dress pants, a light-blue shirt and a reddish-and-grey tie. Oh yes, he made quite an impression with his parted, slightly greying hair, even though he was a tad younger and shorter than myself.

We looked each other in the eye, as we were being introduced. Now shaking hands, he radiated warmth but also had a commanding presence. He was in his late forties or early fifties, athletic and trim, and weighed at least 50 pounds less than me. When Nguyet smiled at me a tad nervously, I took her hand, as there was no reason to hide the fact that we were lovers. Mister Nakamura nodded approvingly and kindly and, for some reason, I was glad again that I was living in Asia. Since he was walking a step ahead of us, I marveled at his dignified gait, like he owned the place. Oh yeah, he seemed super-fit and probably knew several kinds of martial arts. He was no one to be trifled with. He now pointed at one table where he, obviously, wanted us to take our seats; like he was used to having things his way.

Which was fine with me. I would probably never see him again and wasn’t overly concerned about pecking orders, rivalry, or hierarchies. I didn’t need to prove myself but would just make sure he was having a great time here over lunch. After we sat down, Nguyet seemed to ease up a bit, and I concluded that Nakamura wasn’t naturally bossy or overbearing. He shot me an almost affectionate and definitely benign smile, before he even flirted a bit with the young waitress who had brought us the menu. When she was gone again, he looked around the spacious outside area and told Nguyet that she had chosen well. We ordered six beers, but after he had looked at the menu for a minute, he placed it on the table and turned it towards Nguyet, who then translated a few things. In the end, we ordered fish and crabs, rice and vegetables, and then clinked our glasses.

Nguyet, who was sitting next to me, still seemed slightly edgy, but perhaps that was normal. She would have to work with him in the future, with him being the superior, of course. Mister Nakamura opened the conversation by telling me that he had been to Germany once, after the Berlin Wall had come down, in the early 1990s, and so we talked about Leipzig, the Gewandhaus, its famous conductor Kurt Masur – who had a Japanese wife and been instrumental in organizing the peaceful protests Göztepe Escort against the East German government in the fall of 1989. Eventually, we moved on to Goethe and Schiller, which Mister Nakamura had read in high school or at university.

When Nguyet left us to go to the restroom, her leaned forward across the table and told me how gorgeous he found her. ‘You’ve chosen your lover well’ he added with a twinkle in his eye and pursed lips. I wasn’t sure what to reply, and so I just shared how Nguyet and I had met at work and how our affair had begun. Luckily, Nguyet arrived back right at that moment, as I wasn’t sure how much she would want me to go into the details. Since she was here again, we changed the topic, and Mister Nakamura briefly told us about his Korean wife and the years they had spent in her homeland. And now the appetizers were arriving.

“Now, that’s perhaps a cliché, but the Japanese and Koreans don’t really get along, do they?” Nguyet chimed in, finally joining our conversation.

“Well, my wife and I do, of course… but, yes, overall, you’re right. Both countries aren’t exactly friends… you know, the past… with all the wars…”

“So, when you were in Korea, you didn’t feel really welcome, and when your wife joined you in Japan, it was the same for her?” I inquired, sincerely curious.

He thought about a diplomatic answer, perhaps: “Well, it was easier for me in Korea… I had a lot of Japanese colleagues… and I worked a lot, anyway…” he smiled.

My left hand was on Nguyet’s right thigh and knee under the table. I had no indication that she didn’t like it, but she was listening to Mister Nakamura very intently, as he was now talking about his apparently fairly long trip to Germany again. He seemed rather smitten with Nguyet – the way he kept glancing at her – and I wanted to ask her how serious things were between the two of them, as she loved everything Japanese anyway: clothes, music, the Mangas, and the language. At her house, she had quite a collection of Japanese vintage fans, although they could have been produced in Vietnam as well. I knew that she had never actually been to the country.

Once, we had even had arranged a Japanese lunch at her house, together with her mother, who was a staunch voyeur. At the beginning, five years ago, she had allowed us to continue our affair at their house, for which Nguyet and I had been grateful, until we learned that she mostly had done it, so that she could spy on us. Which neither of us had anything against, in the end; We secretly got a kick out of it as well. During said lunch, I had eaten off Nguyet’s trim naked body, enjoyed sashimi doused in her pussy nectar, and eventually the three of us had fucked. For which they had asked me to lie down on the bed, then blindfolded me to make me guess whose snatch was working on my cock. They had even taped the whole session, but I had never watched it. I needed to ask Nguyet if she still had the video on her computer.

“But now you’re living in Japan again?” I asked Mister Nakamura as he hadn’t made that clear.

“Yes, but my wife’s back in Korea… to take care of her ailing mother…” he replied after he had carefully thought about his answer.

Like there was another, different reason for his wife’s absence, but he wasn’t sure whether to divulge it. Of course, the food had arrived in the meantime and everything was divine. Nguyet had just put a white piece of lobster flesh, which reminded me of her thigh, in my bowl. Naturally, she had taken off her cardigan by now, as we were sitting in the shade, so that we could admire her slim shoulders and delicate collarbones. I was wondering if she was even wearing a bra, since I didn’t think she owned a strapless harness. Perhaps, the dress had a bra built in, so to speak.

So, Mister Nakamura was a grass widower. Well, couldn’t he join us at the old hotel later?! Or was he really in a hurry to proceed north? Or had the two of them enjoyed their first intercourse already during the previous three days? Which would be easy to arrange in one of the empty properties or at a hotel during lunch. Looking at the two of them like two tennis players, I couldn’t detect any level of intimacy, though. But yeah, there was definitely something about him. Could I somehow ask Nguyet what she thought of my hotel idea? I drew a ‘3’ on her thigh with my fingertip, but she didn’t seem to notice.

Well, perhaps he would visit the restroom at some point. The more I watched the guy, though, the more I understood Nguyet’s infatuation with him. Definitely. He probably practiced martial arts every morning before dawn, and he also had style. His tie, for instance, was rather simple yet elegant. He probably also practiced sex with finesse. Like his cock was a Samurai sword. Or a foil. Did he have any fetishes, too? Did he like being peed on during sex, for instance?! But if, was he more the slobbering guy, or would he revel in the gushing fountain and let Nguyet douse Escort Göztepe his chest?

I imagined the three of us at the empty hotel now: what about anal? Was that his thing? Or was he more like an ethically, morally upright guy who wouldn’t cheat on his wife; especially now, that she was taking care of her elderly mother. Well, earlier he had spoken of her in fairly neutral tones. Knowing him a bit now, however, I surmised that he already had paid Nguyet a few compliments earlier this week; similar to the one earlier in my presence, when she had been to the bathroom; half-an-hour ago.

The two of them were now talking about various real-estate projects in the vicinity of our town, and it sounded like he was coming back in two weeks. Well, perhaps Nguyet also wanted me to be alone with her later to talk more about their relationship. It sounded like the white Lexus was his choice of transportation, as it was impossible to fly from one small city to the next. When I wanted to light a cigarette, though, as we were almost done eating, he swiftly offered me one of his. His little refill-case also looked stylish, of course, but he gracefully refused the Dunhill Menthols that I offered him in return. His ciggies were certainly more expensive than mine but didn’t taste any better but, sure, the etui was spiffy and symbolized Mister Nakamura’s subtly elegant personality.

While we were now enjoying our cigarettes together, I asked him what city he was from in Japan:

“I’m from a place near Kyoto, called Nara…” he replied without hesitation.

“And where’s your wife from in Korea?”

“Busan… a port city,” was all he divulged.

Nguyet was wearing tights without garters, as I could feel now, with my hand under her dress. I gently squeezed the two-inch strip of naked flesh near her panties, but then she put her hand onto mine, like she wanted me to stop. Of course, the table was between us, but Mister Nakamura certainly knew what I felt on my fingertips. He nodded appreciatively once more but then extinguished his cigarette in the ashtray, which the attentive waitress had put between us, as soon as she had seen us smoking. I opened another bottle of beer, but he made a gesture that he had to leave soon:

“I got another appointment… in Tam Ky… at 3, this afternoon…” he let us know.

The way Nguyet responded with ‘Oh!!’ sounded like she hadn’t been aware that he would have to leave so soon. She looked at me kinda desperate, and I was now certain that I wanted him to come with us to the old hotel for an hour. I wanted to see him fuck, yes. If he hadn’t mentioned twenty minutes earlier that he would come back to our town in two weeks, I probably would have said something instantly, but was Nguyet ready for a threesome today? Did she actually want it?! Or was she waiting for me to make a move, so that she wouldn’t look or sound wanton and lewd? Well, it was clear that the two of them were immensely attracted to each other. Shouldn’t I, perhaps, bugger off, under some pretext? But if they wanted a threesome, why didn’t they say something?!

I placed her hand on my thigh under the table, hoping that she would write me a message; like I had earlier. To buy a bit more time, I asked her:

“And Mister Nakamura is coming back in one or two weeks?”

“More like three… we haven’t set the dates,” she replied business-like, as if we were in a meeting.

Like he was just so used to it, Mister Nakamura now insisted on paying the bill. We toasted again, while we were waiting for the waitress, and I was sure we all felt the tension rising, like before a huge thunderstorm. Nguyet noticed that I was admiring her from the side and turned her head; she must have known, though, that it would be her turn to propose that we go to the hotel together. After all, if I had done it, it would have been like treating her as a toy, a thing for us two guys to use. And it would have been the same for him, which he certainly understood.

As agonizing or tantalizing as everything was, I found it intriguing and, also, titillating. But, as almost frightened as she seemed, Nguyet perhaps wanted him to drive off today, so that they could really start their sensual relationship in two or three weeks, when he would be back in town. Yes, later today, Nguyet and I were going to envision how everything could play out between them and weigh her options. I grew more and more certain that they hadn’t done it yet, but perhaps they wouldn’t want me to be there when they did it for the very first time. Although: Nguyet, perhaps, as it would be safer for her.

Yes, it was still a bit of a mystery to me why they had invited me along for lunch today, when they could easily have gone to some hotel to enjoy a round or two of sweet fornication. They obviously were besotted with each other, and he was man enough to make a move, wasn’t he? Or, at least, share his feelings, even if he was reluctant to go all the way, since he was married.

Or did Göztepe Nakamura want to try a threesome but didn’t dare to ask Nguyet, hoping I would suggest it? Perhaps he loved her so much that he was prepared to get a divorce and marry her, but thought – rightly so – that a threesome would be odd as their first time? But, man, that guy, who could easily have been a mafia boss and was some head honcho of a huge company, and who was on to every dodge and shrewd: why was it so difficult to just say what he wanted?! Well, perhaps he respected her too much to insinuate that he wanted to join Nguyet and me, even though he must have known what the two of us would indulge in in twenty minutes.

When Mister Nakamura got his phone out, presumably to call his driver, Nguyet briefly jerked in her seat. I squeezed her glorious thigh again under the table, leaned over and whispered that – if she wanted – she should suggest that he come with us. To buy time again and pave the way a bit, I asked Nakamura if he had seen the old empty hotel. Perhaps I could get a glimpse of his intentions that way. If he hadn’t seen it, perhaps he would briefly come with us, and once we were there, things could just develop kinda naturally, couldn’t they? Squirming a bit myself now, I realized again that I couldn’t suggest that we could both have a go at Nguyet.

No, she wasn’t just a piece of flesh or a toy, which was available to us. Looking at her again, I could literally sense the trains of thoughts racing frantically behind her beautiful forehead, while Mister Nakamura now divulged that he was already familiar with the stately pile of bricks. He had seen it two years ago, during a previous visit, and a memory shot through my head: Oh yes, when Nguyet had introduced me to the old hotel, she had mentioned a Japanese real-estate broker, but I had dismissed it as one of her ruses.

“Yes, Hiroshi has already been here to our town twice,” she told me quietly, with a lump in her throat.

Hiroshi! Jesus Christ! Oh, c’mon! I thought to myself. Of course, they had fucked a few times since then and were now just pretending, as Hiroshi – or both of them – may have thought that I would get pissed. But why did they want me to be here for lunch?! It still didn’t make sense but, for whatever it was worth, I had noticed that Mister Nakamura had flinched when Nguyet had mentioned his given name for the first time; just like Nguyet had trembled when he had gotten his phone out and told us that he needed to leave.

On the spur of the moment, I offered to retreat, without giving any particular reason. Of course, I loved Nguyet, but I wanted her to be happy and find a husband. And I just had had my trysts with Ly, the masseuse, over the last month, which had been captivating and salacious to the utmost. Perhaps it would be better if Nguyet and Hiroshi – Jesus Christ! – would just do their thing and get their burgeoning relationship on track, before he would drive up to Tam Ky later this afternoon. Which he countered by saying that me retreating was impossible, as he knew how much Nguyet and I loved each other, before he reiterated that he was leaving for Tam Ky, anyway.

Yes, the man had style and a lot of dignity, but now the car was arriving, languidly pulling up at the curb. Equally slowly, we all got up and moseyed to the curb, like we all still wanted to buy some time. Would Nguyet get on the back of my Honda, or would she ride with him again? Oh, what a sweet, tantalizing agony it was! After Mister Nakamura had opened the passenger-side back door, Nguyet spoke with him once more. Of course, I lit another ciggy to cope with the escalating tension, tried to think of an excuse to elope and let them do whatever they needed during the next hour. They were obviously intrigued to know each other. Eventually, Nguyet turned around one last time and pointed in the direction of the old, empty hotel:

“Yes, Hiroshi is going to take another look at everything again…” she let me know, which was nicely ambiguous.

The ‘everything’ included her, didn’t it? Or perhaps not, after all. We would see. Anyway, I got on my motorcycle and drove up the street, as I had a key to the hotel as well. On the way, I briefly stopped to procure a few sherbets for our quick rendezvous. When I got to the place, I drove my Honda in and lit yet another ciggy to deal with my nervousness. Good Lord! When they arrived, Hiroshi got out first and opened the door for her, so that Nguyet could step out of the automobile as elegantly as he just had, before he knocked on the driver’s window to give him instructions. The young, handsome guy – Would he join us as well? Ha! – went back to the trunk, though.

When the three of us were finally inside, I pulled the screeching, metal accordion-gate closed and asked if the driver would wait outside.

“Yes… I won’t stay long, Mister Garland,” he smiled.

Of course, I asked him to scrap the formalities now and call me ‘Ben’, to which he naturally replied that I should address him as ‘Hiroshi’. I took Nguyet’s hand again and then we began to ascend, after she had taken off her cardigan and draped it over the dashboard of my Honda, which told me that I would drive her back to her office, once we would be done here.

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