Surreptitious Love Ch. 60

tagFirst TimeSurreptitious Love Ch. 60

Chapter 60 — Anna: An epic Goodbye
Early September was always the time to meet a few of my former students again, who I had seen off the previous years, and to say goodbye to those who were now going to move to a new city—mostly Saigon—to attend university. Just last Monday, I had met five or six from the last batch who had taken their important IELTS exam last November and then their national examinations this August. Of course, they were all excited about the new chapter in their lives and all the firsts that would come with it: college, their own apartment or dorm room, girlfriends and boyfriends, less parental supervision, love, relationships, and—potentially—sex.
Out of those who had been invited, only about half had showed up at the coffee shop, though. The most hilarious young woman, who I had known since six grade, hadn't turned up, unfortunately. Neither had the two most beautiful but shy ones, who were enthralling in completely different ways. Which was a bummer, but I didn't want to be too nosey and inquire why they had let the opportunity to meet me one last time slip. I was pretty sure that, eventually, I would meet everyone again.
One of the preciously shy but gorgeous ones wrote me a few days later, however, and apologized. She sounded like she hadn't been keen on meeting all the others and, in turn, requested that we see each other privately before she would leave for Saigon in about ten days. Anna—which had been her name at our English Center—was pretty quiet, bashful, but also a little mysterious. Her beauty didn't divulge itself at first sight, but over the years I had taught her, I had become more and more enraptured with her charms. She was pretty skinny and, thus, reminded me of Tuyet, who had a steady boyfriend now and had not even bothered to come up to our provincial town during the shortened-by-Covid-19 summer vacation.
I hadn't seen Anna since the previous November, almost a year now. Once in a while, she uploaded a picture of herself onto Facebook but, otherwise, I didn't really know what she had been up to. As far as I knew, she was going to study Marketing at the Ho Chi Minh University of Economics in Saigon. She had never divulged much of herself. She read a lot—I knew that—and like so many other Asian girls of her generation, she loved BTS, a Korean boy group. Anna had a fraternal twin sister, who looked completely different from her, though: she was taller and more womanly, while Anna, as I've already said, was extremely tender and light as a feather.
Coincidentally, I had been at a café with my family when she had contacted me, but when I invited her to come around—the distances were short here in our small town—she declined, saying that she wanted to be alone with me. Well, to be honest, I preferred that too. I had actually hoped that she would say that, but I wouldn't have asked her to meet me in private. Coming from her, though, it was different.
Elusive Anna. Tender, willowy, graceful, ephemeral Anna. I have to admit that I immediately started to constantly think of her after she had texted me. Every day. Since we hadn't seen each other for quite some time, I dug through my memories to re-live pivotal moments in our student-teacher-relationship. In ninth grade, she had been wearing black, most of the time, like an Emo. And she was pale enough to be one, too. Roughly starting in tenth grade, she had switched to dark-yellow, blueish and grey clothes, but she had still sported the occasional black dress—one of which had white vertical stripes on the shoulders, which reminded me of a piano. Although we had never talked much, I had always had the feeling that we understood each other on a higher plane.
The longer I kept digging, the more details and whole scenes I unearthed. Anna had turned in the best IELTS-exam, even though she had botched her favorite discipline: writing. But for listening and reading she got close to full marks. We had never been to a café together, though, not even when I had invited her whole class. She didn't seem to spend a lot of time with her fellow students anyway. She just did her thing, and so she remained an enigma. The more I thought of Anna, the less I really seemed to know about her.
As her body and demeanor uncannily reminded me of Tuyet, I invited her to the coffee shop Hen Ho, where I had only ever been with Tuyet but never anyone else. Hen Ho meant 'dating' in Vietnamese which, of course, Anna knew. Said café was tucked away in an alley and had a goldfish pond, cute little bridges, bushes, plants and flowers and half-a-dozen of lovely niches where we couldn't be seen by other guests. If she declined to meet me there, I would know that she hadn't really been serious about being alone with me. Did she agree, however, that hour could possibly turn quite sensual.
Another strange but also piquant detail came back to my memory during the few days that we still had before we were going to meet: Starting around the middle of tenth grade, Anna's legs were trembling involuntarily during class. She had spread them under her knee-length dress—with her feet touching the cold tiles only on their balls—and then her legs started to bob and twitch, sideways as well as up and down. Usually, this began about ten minutes into the class and then ended about fifteen minutes later, like she was cold. But she never complained that the A/C was blowing too strong. And it never happened towards the end of class. Seeing the contours of Anna's spread thighs under her knee-length, thin dresses was hot as fuck, though.
My students always took off their shoes before they went into the classroom, but the others never reported that it had been too cold. Sure, most wore jeans and weren't as slim as Anna, who almost always wore dresses but never stockings or socks, not even in winter. Maybe it was just too cold for her. Perhaps I'd ask her when we saw each other. Sometimes, I thought she'd been aroused, to be honest. I had also caught her looking at me way longer than usual.
Once she had listened mesmerized while I was explaining something to another student (who was also cute), and another time, I remembered now, she had clasped her face with both hands when she had committed a major blunder. She had done the whole exercise wrong: Instead of preparing a speech why she would give 50 grand to a certain charity, she wanted to give all the dough to her grandmother. When the whole class moaned, she got up, burst into tears and left the room to get some fresh air. She, apparently, was super-sensitive and probably had been ultra-embarrassed that she—of all people—had committed such blunder in my—of all!—classes.
Well, a long story short: I was going to meet her today, and perhaps I would learn a few things about our classes from her end. I went straight to the back of the coffee shop, where there would be no one behind us while, in turn, we would be able to see the whole café. I ordered an iced coffee, lit a cigarette, and immediately thought about Anna again. A few times, she had worn tailored shorts in class, one pair of which was brick-orange and the other dark-blue. Her skinny legs had looked amazing. Would she do me the favor and sport a pair of those today?
No, she was wearing a simple, light-green, generously tailored dress, as she came sauntering towards me. She smiled, but paused at the large bush to my left to smell the flowers. She smiled again when she was done, and I saw immediately that her hair was relatively short. She seemed to have been at the hairdresser, possibly since she was moving to Saigon, where everything was twice as expensive. Or, because she was meeting me today?
In subtle ways, she had dolled herself up quite a bit: make-up and lipstick as well as two nice bracelets around her wrist—but she also seemed to have 'developed', even though she was as skinny as I remembered her. She smiled coyly, but overall she appeared rather happy and relieved that we were seeing each other. She also seemed to appreciate the coffee shop and the table I had picked. Before she let herself plop into the seat perpendicular to me, she smelled another flower. In her subtle ways, she put on quite a show, I thought.
Yes, pausing in front of me had been nice, because I had had a chance to admire her slender figure in her dress. At least, it looked like that was what she had wanted me to do. Anna was still as tender as I remembered her, and as her dress had swung when she sat down, she was now exposing her thighs almost fully. She allowed me to take in the beauty of her long, light, slim, completely hairless legs, but then covered herself. Now, she was looking at me challengingly and said:
"Long time, no see!"
As to respond with 'And you haven't aged a bit' would have been a bit off, I just said:
"Yeah, and you look just as lovely as I remembered you," and smiled back at her.
Without missing a beat, we began talking. We asked each other about the last several months and actually revealed a few things that we didn't know about each other. She told me about her final exams and asked me about our English Center, which she had attended for more than three years. When she crossed her legs, she reminded me even more of Tuyet. All of a sudden, I also remembered the last afternoon with Tina, and, in my mind's eye, I saw Tina looking at my stiff cock on her thigh. Well, if I could get Anna to allow my cock to rest on her legs, I'd be on cloud nine.
Anna's Thai iced-tea had arrived, and she took a big gulp. I hadn't told her anything about my family, but when I had been at the other coffee shop with my wife and my son the week before, Anna had declined to meet me there, as I said already. Now that she was typing on her phone, I remembered that Anna had been surly and almost a little gruff the few times my wife had brought our son to my classroom. I didn't recall ever her pinching my little son's cheeks, as most students had done at some point, and once she even stomped out of the classroom as soon as the bell had rung as if she had been jealous.
But I didn't want to harken back to those days. Maybe it all was just because she had been a moody teenager, perhaps on her period that day, or God knows what. I just figured she would ask if she wanted to know more about my family. I examined her face more carefully and noticed how perfect she had applied the lipstick. Now, she looked around like she wanted to check if someone was watching us. She put the phone back in her purse and apologized:
"He's getting on my nerves," she laughed, shaking her head in disbelief.
"A suitor?" I asked.
"Yeah, I guess that's what you could call him. But I've told him like a thousand times that it ain't gonna work out between us."
"Well, it'll take time until he fully realizes that," I told her laconically, speaking from experience. "Someone from school?" I probed further.
She nodded. "Yeah, parallel class."
"So, apparently, that ain't happening. But, otherwise, how's your love-life?" I said in some mock-avuncular tone, since we had already touched the subject.
"Well, Mister Ben, you know how it is: Those I want, I don't get, while I never want those who come knocking on my door."
"You don't even get one of those you want? I'm not buying it," I laughed. "You're stunningly beautiful!" I exclaimed.
"Really? Thanks. But I don't think so," she replied, shrugging her shoulders.
Suppressing a 'But I do!', I inquired little further since I liked the subject of her beauty:
"What exactly is it that you don't like about yourself? You're young, slim, healthy … your face is beautiful, and your legs are stunning. Your skin is really nice, too. Frankly, you are—if I may say so—pretty attractive … pretty sexy, actually … oh, yes, by all means," I added slightly clumsily, as I didn't want to waste the opportunity to pay her some compliments, even if it meant leaning out of the proverbial window.
"Thanks, again. You find me sexy?"
"Well, now that you're 18, I can tell you: Yes! Definitely."
Her birthday had been in early June, about three months back. She nodded slowly and seemed to be thinking about something.
"Well, I don't know," she began again. "The boys of my generation think I'm too quiet and to thin, probably. And every time I take a selfie, my eye rolls outwards. Haven't you noticed?"
"No, but if I had, I wouldn't say anything. Because it doesn't matter. In reality, you're beautiful. That's what counts. The more people take selfies, the more they worry about how they look. Which is nonsense. Right now, neither of your eyes is rolling anywhere. And even if one did, you'd still be gorgeous. Don't let that kind of nonsense drive you insane."
"Yeah, I know. But, still … I haven't really been lucky," she sighed melancholically, but then smiled again.
"Well, soon you'll be in a new city and the cards are shuffled afresh," I tried to get her hopes up.
Ignoring my remark about her new stage in life for now, Anna continued: "You said you think I'm beautiful? What exactly do you like about me?" she demanded to know, writhing blissfully in her chair.
That was a typical Vietnamese women-question. Apparently, she wanted to bask in my compliments now. Oh, well, I was glad to oblige, as I had been hankering for a chance to do just that for years.
"Your face alone is so pretty that I could look at you for hours," I began.
Her nose was a tad coarse—and her ears rather big and protruding—but it was true: her eyes and her mouth were glorious, as was her hair. She also sported two immaculate rows of teeth, which she now flashed, smiling and thanking me for the kind words.
"And then, well, your body is slim but stunning. I love it. I don't know why. Sure, some men might say that you're too skinny, but I absolutely love tender, slim girls. I also love how you bob and sway when you walk. And it's not that you look starved, like you're on a strict diet."
I didn't know what else to say for now. But what I had just told her was true. There were quite a few young women in Vietnam who were genetically very thin, without dieting.
"Did you feel like that already when I was your student?" she inquired now.
That question was, of course, somewhat tricky and delicate, but also legitimate. And we were alone.
"Sure. In principle. You haven't changed that much since then. I have always loved your graceful movements or motions … like how you hold your pen, for instance."
Her hand-writing was meticulous and immaculate, too. Anna seemed to be bathing in my words. She was looking at me to encourage me to tell her more. She wasn't going to interrupt me. But she untied her legs, which had been crossed, and then carefully pulled up her dress, so that I could basically see her thighs fully. It looked like she had been waiting for a good moment to do so, but since that moment had never come, she just contrived it.
"Do you want another coffee?" she briefly asked in between. "I'd take another one of these," she said, pointing at her empty glass.
So, I called the little waitress over and ordered two more drinks.
"You remember quite some details," she laughed.
As I probably looked puzzled, she added: "I mean, how I hold my pen …"
"Well, I've got a good memory to begin with. But, yeah, you caught my attention in various ways back then. Since we're talking about it: Do you remember how your legs often shook uncontrollably?"
Perhaps she knew; I had to ask.
She just looked at me at first, thinking, but I didn't say anything. She sat up in her chair, and I noticed her delicate collarbones and her soft skin underneath them. Her tiny bosom was heaving considerably, and she wiped her hands on her dress, as the waitress had come back with our glasses. While I was looking down to light another cigarette, Anna tidied her dress but didn't pull it over her knees. It did seem important to her that I could see her thighs. She swallowed before she began to speak again:
"My legs … yeah … I don't know why they were shaking uncontrollably. There was nothing that I could do about it. But it only started in like 11th grade, didn't it? I think … sometimes, I think I was just cold, because the A/C was just above and behind me. But there was more …" she said a little absentmindedly and cryptically.
I didn't want to overanalyze it and thought about switching topics, but she insisted: "You find me attractive?"
I looked at her and nodded vehemently: "Absolutely. Really. Seeing you made my day back then. I always made sure I was clean shaven; I don't know if you remember … your legs, by the way, are just incredible," I added hastily.
With these words, my dick began to pump in my pants and a powerful wave of lust washed all over me. I moved my chair three inches closer to hers, while she put her right foot, which was further away from me, on the seat, next to her left thigh. Her dress fell into her lap, and with a little imagination I could almost see her panties. Her naked legs looked absolutely tantalizing. To make sure I couldn't see her underwear, though, she placed one hand in her crotch. Or was it to prepare the next step?
"Do you remember, Anna," I started again with a dry mouth, "when you once got off your motorcycle on the wrong side and then had to swing yourself back over again in your flimsy summer dress to get out between all the bikes?"
She had pulled in between two parked motorbikes, but as every bike leans to the left when parked, after she had gotten off hers, she wasn't able to get out on that side and had to swing herself back to the other side of her bike. She knew I was up on the third floor, smoking, but she still swung herself over the seat like a ballerina, with her back to the handle bars, facing me and exposing her panties for a split-second.
"Yeah, I know. That was sooo embarrassing …" she conceded and blushed.
"Please … don't … I don't want you to remember this as embarrassing. Out of all those little scenes at our school, this has perhaps been the most erotic …" I told her truthfully.
"So, you did see it," she said quietly. "I've never been sure. But, yeah, I've sometimes thought of that moment."
I wanted to ask her if she had done it deliberately, but decided to save that question for later. Since we truly seemed to get on well, even when rehashing dicey moments, I moved yet again closer to her and put my hand on her left thigh, which was right in front of me. The right one, which was still pointing upwards, was too far away. It looked delicious but, here at the café, there was no way to touch it. It would have been too obvious. I briefly thought about how my dick rested on Tina's thigh, again. Oh, salacious Lord: If Anna allowed me to park my rod on her precious thighs, I'd be in heaven. Would she let me? It almost kinda looked like it.
"Do you remember the color of my panties?" she asked, giggling. "You've got a good memory …"
"I think they were white," I told her.
Knowing her, that would have been my guess anyway.
"Do you know what I also remember?" I continued like in trance, in rapture. "Under your dress, underneath your underwear, your little pubic mound was protruding like a hemisphere, like a flower bulb."
In my mind's eye, I now saw Anna lying on a bed near a window, and her pubic mound was the highest point of her complete prostrate body. But I now woke up from my reveries, as I had gotten startled by my own words: I had just brought up her pussy for the first time. I didn't know if she was comfortable with that. I saw that she was blushing and felt that the same was happening with me. We both took a sip of our drinks and looked at my hand on her thigh.
"Mister Ben, I wanted to see you before I move to Saigon in ten days. I gotta tell you something: I had … I had … I have a huge crush on you," she corrected herself.

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