She looked at me with those innocent eyes. For the life of me,
the tension was excruciatingly terrible. I sat down across the
table from her. "Han, it is not what I meant. Please do not
misunderstand my intentions. I feel bad today so many weird things
happen."
"Sir, no feel bad please. Han want to learn be good wife." She was
definitely feeling uneasy, glancing everywhere and rubbing her
hands together.
Looking at her now reminds me of those girls in the Japanese porn
that I have watched before. Quiet, decent, sweet and youthful girls
who would do anything you told them to.
Right here, before my eyes, I had a fair and beautiful, not to
mention sexy (at least that is how I imagined her figure would be)
woman that was just ripe for the taking. But deep within me,
knowing that she is actively looking for a man to spend the rest of
her days with, I struggled with the thought of wanting and not
wanting her.
I spent the next few minutes trying to explain to her, to recollect
the events that led up to this uneasiness between us. Hoping she
will understand what I actually wanted in the first place. All I
wanted was for her to be comfortable and treat this home like her
own. That was why I wanted her to just wear casually instead of
putting on the Ao Dai.
We spoke about the differences in the cultures in Vietnam and
Singapore. She was shocked when I told her that maids in Singapore
dress just like the rest of us. In Vietnam, there is a unspoken and
unseen class difference line drawn between the employer and
employee.
Things began to lighten up and I could see her trying to hide her
smiles when I joked about people and events that happened to me. It
was a relief to see her relaxing. Frankly, I love to make her
laugh. Her dress was worn tightly and it accentuates her figure and
especially her upper body. Whenever she laughs, my eyes will
inadvertently be drawn to look at the soft bounce of her b
reasts.
Oh, I would like to add in something extra. In the past week since
she's been doing my place for me, I have only seen her wearing the
Vietnamese traditional dress. There were a few incidents where I've
wondered what's beneath the dress. Is she wearing any lingerie?
What would the lingerie be like? But because of the way the dress
is designed and worn, it was virtually impossible to spot. I must
say I am quite good at spotting Gstrings back in Singapore. But
over here, my skills as a self proclaimed pro voyeur is tested
beyond the normal boundaries.
An idea suddenly came to me with regards to the issue with the Ao
Dai.
"Han, you know, in Singapore, housemaids cannot dress better than
Sir and Madams." I knew how to convince her to dress casually now.
"Sir feel very bad when housemaid dress nicer than sir. Sir is not
housemaid right?"
"No no no Sir. Sir not housemaid, Han is housemaid." She stood up
immediately. Back to the employer and employee difference
again.
Now that she gets the idea. I told her that she was making me feel
uncomfortable about dressing "lower" than her. And that she should
dress more casually so that visitors (not that we have a lot) will
not think that she is the mistress of the house.
"Sir, Han is ok not wear Ao Dai?" She confirmed.
"Yes. Not wear Ao Dai ok? Here we follow Singapore style." It's
like talking to a grown up child who will follow your every command
and request. I thought about the girls in Singapore I know. Even
the meekest one in Singapore can't hold a candle to the purity and
naivety of Han.
We agreed from then on that the Ao Dai will not be standard fare as
long as she is working here. The subject was dropped and she
started to ask me more questions about maids' life in Singapore.
She cringed when I mentioned a few horror stories of the maids
being tortured and also of maids killing the children in their
employees' home.
It was getting late at about 11pm but we're still chatting gaily. I
switched the subject and asked her if she ever fell in love with
someone before. Being more comfortable now, she told me a story of
her first love back in her village with her father's sworn brother.
I probed more about what love means to Vietnamese women.
What I gathered was that women in Vietnam was taught from young
that love is undying and love is giving anything. No matter how
good or bad they would be treated, for them to love a man is to
give that man everything. That belief governs the fact that women
must give in everytime, to any request to the man that they
love.
So different in Singapore. Singaporean women always justify that
love is NOT equal to sex and that love is pure. But what love can
be purer than what I am hearing right now? Maybe the cause of the
low birth rate can be attributed to how the women in Singapore
thinks.
Han asked about marriage and we compared notes on how the men
proposed to the women. I even went down on my knees and held her
hands to show her how the romantic guy proposes. I think that must
have made her very happy as she started to giggle innocently in
glee.
Getting ahead of myself, I even wanted to show her how the married
man carries his wife on the day on their marriage into the new home
but she stepped away and laughed, saying that she will keep that
for her husband. Everything back to normal now, I told her I would
go back to my room to do some work before going to bed.
Leaving her to her chores I went back to my room. Being a late
sleeper, I would normally surf the web or chat with the guys before
retiring for the night. It was nice to have Han around, I thought.
No worries about anything as she has performed very well as a
housemaid. Everything was clean and in it's place and she had the
uncanny ability to know where everything is.
Right about midnight, I heard the creaking of the steps outside my
room. Han was coming up. I leaned back in my chair and looked at
the little slit under the door where I could see her shadow pacing
to and fro outside my door.
Something must have happened but I decided against opening the door
to shock her. Maybe she was just doing some chores outside.
Her shadow stopped moving outside my door and I heard the soft
rustle of a piece of paper being pushed under the door. Then she
walked away and the creaking of the stairs told me that she went
back down.
I stood and went to pick up the piece of paper. It was torn from
the little notebook she kept beside the phone where she could take
down messages and on it wrote :
"Sir, I want to learn f uck. Teach me ok?"
- End of Part 2 -
