Hanoi Heat: a Passionate Love Story

By Adam Mann

Nicky is a young and attractive Vietnamese woman with long black hair which she wears in an unusual style, and she is taller than many of her friends. Her father is unknown to her, although her mother told her that he was French. She is 28 and lives with her mother. Nicky has had very limited sexual experience, and that was not at all satisfactory. She works with a fashion house, but an an organiser, not a designer. She is invited to represent her company at an Embassy Reception, where she meets William who is widowed, but to her suddenly and strangely attractive. Much to her own surprise she allows herself to be undressed and seduced, and is amazed at her own sexual activity, response and even wantoness. William finds Nicky both attractive and seductive. Nicky’s first kiss is not passionate but given with warmth and promise, and this turns out to be the first of many. The story has a ‘happy ever after’ ending with marriage (which is a difficult and long drawn out process in Vietnam).

• Language: English
• Publisher: ButterflyBooks
• Release date: Jul 26, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310458972

Adam Mann

Adam Mann has lived and worked in Africa and then Asia for many years. He has always been fascinated by personal relationships, and in real life is now enjoying his fourth marriage, after being widowed, divorced, and even had a marriage annulled as this ‘wife’ had forgotten to get divorced.As a result he has extensive experience of social and sexual activities, which he brings into his books in explicit detail. Underlying all these activities is a quest for a loving and ongoing relationship with his partner.Adam Mann is a pen name.

Book preview

Butterfly Books

Hanoi Heat

by Adam Mann

© Adam Mann 2014.

ISBN 9781311811318

"A good storyteller is a person who has a good memory and hopes other people haven’t." Irvin Shrewsbury Cobb

"The duration of passion is proportionate with the original resistance of the woman." Honore de Balzac

When I’m good, I’m very very good, but when I’m bad, I’m better. Mae West

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First Revision.

The Party

I was a bit late arriving at the Ambassador’s Reception, as it was called, which sounds a bit grand but the foreign community is small here and my invitation came as a ‘representative’ of the company where I work. However, a last minute email from a material supplier took me about thirty minutes to sort out. I had already dressed for the occasion, choosing to wear a simple black cocktail dress, with very short sleeves. I chose black to show off my skin as whiter than it is, and the hem line was about 10cms above my knees to show off my legs.

My name is Nicky and I work for a fashion designer. I am neither a designer nor a model, but I am responsible for organising the catwalks, to show off our designs, and also to make sure the models arrive on time, and at the right location.

The job sounds very glamorous, but it’s not. I thought at first that I would love to work with the male models, but they are all too concerned about their persona and image and, to my disappointment almost all are not in the slightest bit interested in meeting women like me. The female models are easier to get on with as they don’t view me as competition, and one has become a good friend often giving me tips on makeup, and lending me clothes.

I’m about 173cms tall, that is 5ft 8ins in the old system, with long black hair, which I normally wear straight down my back, or for formal occasions I curl it into a loose plat to wind it into a coil clipped to the back of my head. This evening, due to the delay with the email, I was wearing my hair long. My father is, or was, French but has long since disappeared, and my mother is Vietnamese, which is from where I get my long black hair, I suppose, and my height from my father as I’m generally a few centimetres taller than most of my girl friends.

The Ambassador and his wife were still busy greeting guests when I arrived, so I was not so late, and he was giving their priority to a government deputy minister, who had just arrived with his entourage. I escaped the introductions by going round to the back and found two girls I knew, both of whom worked in the Embassy, and we started chatting about their boyfriends, or lack of them in my case.

Whilst talking, and looking around, I saw a tall man wearing a well cut pale grey suit and who was standing just across the room. He was holding a glass with an amber coloured liquid, and talking to another man whom I knew slightly, who was also holding a glass with what looked like beer. The tall man was looking around, and looked in my direction. I was glad when his eyes stopped at me, and flirt that I am I thrust out my bosom, not that I have that much, and made sure he could see one of my legs, which aren’t bad. I was wearing back high heels which I must admit do set off my legs. Both actions had the right effect, which you always want to happen, but you get flustered when it does.

To my surprise he said something to the other man, and walked across the room. He stopped just before me and held out his hand.

Good evening, he said, my name’s William.

In Vietnam many women do not shake hands with men, but I was used to meeting foreigners in my work, and knew that I had to take his hand firmly.

I just said, I’m Nicky.

Now that he was closer I could see that he was almost a head taller than me, and had dark but greying hair not cut too closely. I just had to look, and saw he was not wearing a wedding ring, nor did he have a white mark on his finger! He was sweating a bit, as the room for reception had filled, and the body heat of people there was overcoming the air conditioning.

He looked across at the Ambassador, who was still engrossed with the deputy minister, and took off his jacket. The Ambassador saw this and suggested that his guest take off his jacket as he did the same, immediately prompting other men to take off their jackets. It was quite amusing really!

This is Huong, I said, and this is Lien, as I introduced William to the two other girls with whom I had been talking, and they both work in the Commercial section of the Embassy,.

What do you do? he asked me.

I told him what I did for a job, and he appeared interested.

Can I get you a drink? he asked all three of us together.

A white wine, please, I replied.

A waiter carrying a tray of drinks appeared close by and he took a glass for me, asked my friends what they were drinking but they both said no thanks, and then he gave the waiter his empty glass and told him to bring something for him, but I did not hear what he said. The waiter returned almost immediately with a glass tumbler with an amber liquid and ice, and a jug of water. He poured some water into his glass, and turning to the three of us he raised his glass and said "Chuc Suc Khoe"

None of us said much, if anything we whispered in reply, but raised our glasses and each of us took a small sip.

Both girls were watching William. I knew that Lien was married, but I did not know much about Huong.

As if on cue the deputy minister decided to leave, amid much handshaking. He waived his hand to the other guests and went outside. The atmosphere in the room visibly relaxed as the deputy minister left.

I’m hungry, said William a few minutes later, would you like some dinner? He asked all three of us, but the other two muttered excuses, leaving only me to accept. I don’t know to this day why I accepted, but I was hungry and he was an attractive man....

It took some time for us to negotiate our way across the room, with William talking to people he knew on the way, to say goodbye to the Ambassador and his wife. William had replaced his coat, and ushered me past the Ambassador to the road outside the Embassy.

The Ambassador obviously knew William, and asked as we went.

Are you staying in town long?

Backwards and forwards to projects all the time, explained William.

The Ambassador smiled, and turned to another guest.

Outside, William beckoned a taxi. There was a row of taxis queuing for