Dominique sat alone on the rooftop bar of the Rex Hotel in Saigon. Of course, it was now called Ho Chi Minh City, but a lot of people, including her, still knew it by its old name. Up on the top of the building was an oasis of calm and tranquillity after the hustle and bustle of the streets below, where she had been for much of the day. She was alone, but she was used to being alone. It was not a state that concerned her unduly as she nursed a cool glass of French white wine. When I first came here it was almost impossible to get a decent glass of wine. How quickly things have changed. At one time the only available alcoholic drink, apart from cans of local 333 beer, was humorously called ‘Mekong Champagne’ and was dire, she remembered, as she rolled the French wine around her mouth.
She glanced around to see if there was anyone she knew. To her right was a businessman she had met a few nights ago at the Embassy party, but whose name she had forgotten. Fortunately he was deep in conversation with another man, so hopefully she would avoid his approach. She looked to her left and met, just a few yards away, the calm stare of a rather distinguished and handsome man – forty, she guessed, with a full head of dark hair, and just a touch of grey running through it. He was dressed in a cream-coloured lightweight suit, in deference to the humid heat of the city, but had removed his jacket and tie, which lay on the seat next to him, where a laptop was also placed. Another businessman, she surmised. Since the relaxation of communism, there were many opportunities to be had in this young, vibrant economy.
Dominique was surprised that the man had made no attempt to approach or speak to her. It might be deemed to be arrogance on her part, but she knew that she was attractive to men from the attention she received wherever she went. Sometimes she responded; sometimes she ignored it. She was an attaché at the French Embassy, where she had been for over a year. However, she had visited the country several times before that, growing up as she did with a French father and a Vietnamese mother. Her mother had just managed to flee the country as the communists reached Saigon from the north, and it had been many years since she had dared to return, armed with a French passport, courtesy of her new husband. That visit was just before Dominique had been born, but they had brought her back quite often to visit her mother’s family, as soon as restrictions had eased.
Dominique looked back towards the man and saw that his gaze was still resting on her. She smiled at him. She was happy to have some company, especially from someone who looked like him.
“Would you care to join me?” The man smiled back at her.
“I rather think I would,” and he picked up his jacket and laptop and walked across to where she was sitting.
“It’s very pretty up here, with the fairy lights and the topiary, and all that I was missing was some good conversation. I expect, however, that we could have some good conversation, couldn’t we?”
As the man spoke, Dominique picked up on an invisible but very powerful aura surrounding him. He was probably the most charismatic and masculine man she had met for a long time. Everything about him was perfect, from the width of his shoulders, to the span of his waist, to the intelligent and powerful eyes, and the square jaw. If Dominique had been asked to describe her perfect man, this man could be the template. He smiled and held out his hand.
“Don McCartney, from New York.”
“Dominique Colville from Paris, but currently at the French Embassy here.”
“Ah, Mademoiselle Colville.” He paused and smiled. “I have heard your name mentioned, and you were described as a great beauty, and now I can see for myself they were right.”
She smiled at the compliment, but chose not to respond.
Don raised his hand to attract the attention of the waiter.
“Do you like champagne?”
“I love champagne.”
He spoke to the waiter and ordered a bottle of their best.
“So,” Dominique asked him, “what things did you hear about me, in your discussions in the locker room, or wherever men gather to talk about women.”
Don smiled laconically.
“I’m not one to listen to gossip. I prefer to find things out for myself.”
When he spoke, he gave her his full attention, not looking around the room as other men sometimes did. She liked that.
“So, Don, are you here on business?”
“Both business and pleasure. I am a journalist, and I’ve been here to interview some people. But now I have completed my business and have the pleasure to look forward to.”
He looked directly into her eyes as he said that, and she was barely able to supress a shiver. This man was doing powerful things to her insides.
“Did you serve here?”
“No. By the time I reached draft age it was all over.”
She took a long look at the man in front of her, and wondered if the gossip he had heard had included the fact that she had bedded quite a few men in her time in Saigon. Many of them had been transient; people who had been passing through and were gone within a day or so. She preferred it that way. There had also been a few of the Embassy staff, of both her own country and those of other countries, plus the occasional politician or expatriate resident.
She refused to feel any guilt for her extensive list of sexual conquests. She was young and beautiful, with a healthy need for sex, and if she accepted many of the approaches she received, well, so be it. She was not looking for a husband or long term life partner, just to spend some time in the company of an athletic and reasonably attractive man who did not judge her for her behaviour, sexual or otherwise. She was obviously described by some, to the men who wanted to make her acquaintance, as a certainty. But that wasn’t true. She had actually turned a few down at the last moment, when something they had said or done made her alert to possible danger, or an intense dislike. Of course these men were not about to announce that they hadn’t struck lucky as they had hoped. They had egos to protect after all. So her man-count was unfairly inflated; but she did not care one little bit. Life was for living, and she lived by her own rules. Fuck the men and their double standards.
Don had begun talking again, and she had to snap her mind back to the present.
“Would you like to dine with me? I’m staying at the Continental.”
“Yes, that would be nice.”
Barring unforeseen problems, it seemed she would be staying the night at the Continental, and a pleasurable time was in prospect. They walked the short distance to the hotel, dodging the chaos of Saigon’s streets, where bicycles carrying whole families would vie with the cyclos and cars in a noisy hotchpotch that amazed foreigners, used to more orderly traffic. The best way of coping with it, she told Don, was to start crossing, and make them go round you. It was unnerving to the beginner, but within days westerners were crossing the roads like locals. Don followed her lead and they made it safely across.
Over dinner their conversation ranged widely, from world politics to natural history, plus a little of their own histories. She told him of her childhood in France, and tales that her mother had shared about growing up in Vietnam. He told her about his upbringing on a farm in North Carolina, and his university years that had led on to his choice of career as a journalist. Throughout their conversation Don made no attempt to seduce her, but he was very attentive. His eyes never left her face when he was talking to her, and his body language was open and relaxed. Dominique decided that, if asked, she would spend the night with him. If she wasn’t asked, well, she might have to broach the subject for herself. On the whole, though, she was traditionalist enough to want the man to ask the question.
After dinner, they moved from the dining table to a wicker table and chairs on the veranda, where the noise of the street was more audible, but they could still hear the piano sonata playing through the open, un-shuttered windows of the hotel. Dominique shivered, but it was not from cold. It was a shiver of anticipation for what lay ahead. Don ordered brandies for them both, and for a few moments their conversation ceased, as they enjoyed the ambience and the music. The Continental was no longer the place it had once been; but it was a beautiful old colonial building, with so much character, and was popular with the more traditional minded traveller. One almost expected Graham Greene to still be seated on the veranda, scribbling into one of his notebooks for his next great novel.
As they finished their brandies, Don reached out his hand, and slowly and gently ran his palm down Dominique’s bare arm.
“Would you like to stay the night with me?”
She did not believe in artifice or not giving straight answers to questions, so her reply was a simple “Yes”.
Don stood, and his instruction was equally simple and impossible to misconstrue. “Come.”
Dominique followed him into the lift and out again on the top floor, where he led the way to his room, which turned out to be a junior suite. They did not speak on the journey until they arrived at the door to the suite. Dominique thought it indiscreet to mention that she had been there before, so she said nothing. Don took hold of her shoulders and pulled her towards him and kissed her; gently at first, and then applying more pressure and she opened her mouth to receive his tongue. It was a long kiss. Eventually he drew away.
“Want to change your mind? It’s not too late to pull back.”
“What, after a kiss like that; not a chance.”
“Bold girl; just as I like them. What is life without taking a few chances?”
She knew in her bones that she could trust this man.
Inside the suite the maid had drawn the drapes and switched on the lamps. The room was elegant, and furnished in the old French colonial style; Louis IV carved giltwood chairs, crystal chandeliers, and paintings in gold-lacquered frames.
Dominique walked to the window to admire the view over the city by night. The lights looked so pretty. Don stood behind her and put his arms around her waist, and she leaned back onto his broad, strong chest, resting her head to one side, near to his right shoulder. Don took that as an invitation to kiss her exposed neck. His soft lips moved up to her ear, and he drew back her long dark hair to gently bite her ear lobe, and Dominique groaned quietly as the sensation was felt much further down her body.
Obviously sensing her rising sexual excitement, he brought both hands up to her breasts, which he stroked through the thin, silk material of her dress, while continuing to kiss her earlobe and neck, which gave her goose bumps. Dominique felt his hardness beginning to press against her bottom, and couldn’t resist moving her hips slowly from side to side, knowing that the stimulation would add to his excitement, ready for him to come into her. His voice was much lower than previously, almost a growl.
“Don’t start what you are not prepared to finish.”
The challenge thrown out excited her even more.
“Oh I intend to see it through to the end come what may. I might even be a little naughty.”
“Only a little naughty, that’s disappointing. I was hoping for a lot of naughtiness from you.”
“Don’t worry, Don, I can do a lot of naughty too.”
She could feel his cock becoming harder as it pressed against her. He whispered hoarsely into her ear.
“I think you are teasing me, young lady. I might have to put you over my knee for that.”
“Now that is an invitation I might not be able to refuse. But you would have to catch me first,” and with that challenge she slipped sideways and ran into the bedroom. Of course it was a one-sided contest. She was wearing heels and had a pencil slim dress that stopped her from stretching her legs. Within seconds Don had her in a firm grasp, holding her by the wrists and pinning them behind her back so that her breasts were pressed against him.
“Now, what was I saying? Oh yes, I think you deserve a good spanking. But first I intend to get you out of this beautiful dress. I would hate to tear it with what I have in mind.”
“Fighting talk. But how are you going to remove the dress while holding both my wrists?”
“Because I intend to kiss you and caress you until you will be begging me to remove your dress,” he said, with a sexy smile.
She smiled back, the excitement rising within her. That feeling was not too far away. She wanted him to ravish her, to spank her and then make love to her with all the subtlety that she knew he possessed. Here was a man who knew exactly what this woman wanted, and he was prepared to give it to her, but only on his own terms. Game on, she thought.
Still pinning both hands behind her, he backed her up to a large, gilt-framed mirror, and pressed her to it so firmly that, even when he withdrew his hands, she was not able to free hers. Or perhaps she didn’t want to free hers.
“Hmm, a dilemma, your dress zip is on the back. You are thinking, ‘Can I escape when he turns me round?’ But the answer to that is no, because I am too strong for you.”
Quick as a flash he whipped her round, changing the position of her arms so that they were now both at her front. Again he pressed her hard against the mirror to immobilise her while he unzipped her dress, to reveal a white thong and lacy bra.
“Sacré bleu, as I think you French say.”
“You have been misinformed, Monsieur. The French rarely say that. It’s just used by foreigners trying to appear French.”
“Well I won’t use the Anglo Saxon curse, as it is much too crude a way to describe a beautiful woman in the process of removing her clothes. Just take it from me that I am suitably overwhelmed by the beauty of your body.”
He let the dress drop to the floor, and she stepped out of it. It was, after all, much too nice a dress to tread on with the shoes they were both still wearing. Don reached around and grasped her wrists and drew her arms up above her head, her palms resting against the mirror.
“Can I rely on you not to move from this position?” He kissed the side of her neck that made her shiver.
“I won’t move a muscle.”
“Good, for I want to step back and look at you for a moment. Your body is a work of art that needs to be savoured, not devoured.”
He stepped away from her, and, as stated, she remained as still as a statue. She watched him through the mirror. He stood a few feet away, his chin resting on one of his hands, with the other across his chest, and standing with legs apart. He was devouring her with his eyes; looking at her intently from the top of her head down to her feet, still encased in gold heeled sandals. Then he walked slowly back towards her, looking into the reflection of her eyes. He stopped when he was very close, but barely touching.
“I can’t decide which part of your body is the most delectable. You have the peachiest bottom I have seen for a long time; your legs are long and shapely; the curve of your spine is divine; and your eyes are like dark, mysterious pools. And that is just the back of you. I can’t wait to see the other side.”
She resisted pointing out that in fact her eyes were in the front of her body. He was obviously referring to the mirror reflection. He reached forward and in one quick move unfastened her bra and let it fall to the ground. Then he turned her towards him, groaning slightly as he caught sight of a perfect pair of breasts, which he reached for as soon as they came into view.
His hands, which were warm and soft, moved over her skin, gently lifting and massaging her breasts, before bending and taking one of the nipples into his mouth and biting it lightly.
“You’re not going to eat me, a few pieces at a time, I hope?”
“You’re certainly good enough to eat, but I want to save you for later. If I was to eat you now I wouldn’t be able to come back for seconds, would I? Anyway, first we have to address the matter of the spanking I promised you.”
“That’s a pity, I thought you had forgotten.”
“There are some things I never forget. One of them is the names of people who try to cheat me, and the other is a promise made to a beautiful woman.”
“I must remember never to cheat you. Do you make a bad enemy?”
“Implacable. I never forget.”
“I had better remember that, should I try and cheat you at a game of poker.”
“You will indeed. Now let’s go over to the bed, shall we?”
He took her hand and walked her over to the large bed in the middle of the room, and sat down, pulling her over his lap before she had even had the chance to think about it. His thighs were firm, the thighs of a man who exercised regularly, but not excessively. She relaxed on to them and gave herself over completely to this charismatic man.
“I doubt that I need to restrain you,” he said, laconically. You look very comfortable in that position. But if you move I might have to use the bathrobe belt to keep you in one place. In fact, I might just use that later anyway.”
Then, with no further words he began to spank her. He was firm, but not excessively harsh, as though he was testing the waters. She felt a mild pain surge through her, and she rode the waves, barely making a sound, other than a quiet groan from time to time. He stopped at ten strokes and massaged her bottom, which was, by now, pink and warm. His palms swept down her thighs and came back up, pausing on her inner thighs to satisfy himself that Dominique was enjoying the experience. He was satisfied.
Dominique could feel Don’s growing excitement. It was pressing against the side of her body, now naked, except for the thong. And that was about to be disposed of, as he rolled the waistband down, over her glowing cheeks and down her legs. She was now his for the taking. He lifted her off his knees and she stood up.
“I think we can do away with the shoes now. I don’t like the idea of being stabbed by a stiletto while I’m making love to you.”
She slipped off the sandals and left them on the floor near the bed. Don was still dressed in his shirt and trousers, although he had now removed his shoes.
“Can I undress you?”
He stood up in front of her. “You most certainly can.”
Slowly she unfastened his buttons down the front of the shirt and then peeled it back to show that he did indeed like to keep in shape. She leaned forward and kissed him on his chest, running her fingers up his arms.
He whispered hoarsely in her ear. “Like what you see?”
“I like, but I’m hoping that the best is yet to come.”
“Well you can be the judge of that.”
Dominique put her elegant fingers, with the very lightest of pink polish on the nails, and began to unfasten his trousers, sliding the zipper right to the bottom in one move. Just a light tug was sufficient to send the trousers down to the floor, and his lightweight cotton shorts swiftly followed them. She stood back, and this time it was her turn to admire.
She stepped away from him, and copied his stance exactly as he had studied her; legs spread, her chin resting on one hand, with the other across her chest. He smiled. “Touché.”
She walked slowly towards him, looking at him closely, trying, but failing, not to concentrate completely on the rigid, magnificent cock before her.
“I can’t decide which part of your body is the most delectable; nice abs, great muscle tone; and…oh my, what do we have here?”
Her hand reached out and took his cock into her hand, running her hand down its length, and fondling his balls. He smiled at her as she did so, but she noticed the sudden change in his pupils, as desire overtook him. He seemed to like the sudden change in the power play. He was no longer the one in charge, and he was happy to hand over control…at least for a short time.
Dominique loved the to and fro she was getting with Don; the sexual banter, the laconic smile, and, above all, his sheer, unadulterated masculinity. It was not the type of masculinity that needed to be proven by rough handling a woman, although she decided that the idea of a bit of rough handling from him from time to time might be quite enticing. No, it was his quiet confidence in himself and his knowledge that he had nothing to prove…to her, or to anyone. He didn’t play games; at least not those sort of games. No, the games he enjoyed were those of cat and mouse, of dominance and submission. But he would take it slowly for now.
When she had completed the tour around him, Don had obviously decided that enough was enough, and he made his move. He pulled her down on to the bed and lay on top of her, kissing her hard on the lips.
“I think we’ve played enough for now. Now its show time.”
He kissed her hard again, and she responded, wrapping her legs around his back and rubbing herself against his groin. There was no need for further foreplay; she was dripping with need for him, and with one thrust he was inside her. The coil had been tightened almost to break point throughout the evening, and now it was about to spring free. For now the sexual banter was missing. Now there were just the sounds of two people thrusting and groaning in unison, in the age-old danse de l'amour. They came together in an intense burst of passion that was as intoxicating as the champagne and brandy consumed earlier.
“Mon Dieu.” Dominique called out in her native language as she reached probably the most shattering climax she had ever enjoyed; and she had enjoyed a few.
“Yes,” was Don’s only cry as he too could hold on no longer and released himself; continuing to thrust until he was depleted.
They lay together, in each other’s arms, tangled with the bedclothes, and sweating with the heat, until they had the energy to move, when Don kissed her tenderly on the lips.
“I hope you can stay the night.”
“I’m going nowhere. Don’t think you are going to get away from me that easily.”
“That’s what I like about you; a woman who knows what she wants, and isn’t afraid to ask for it.”
“And what I like about you is that you are a man who knows what a woman wants, and isn’t afraid to give it. So we are both satisfied. Life is good.”
Yes, with this one she might just stick around if the opportunity arose. She had met her match.
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