In Hanoi Pt. 02

"Nope, not Mai Linh. Their drivers are the worst. Look for a Vinasun" she said, grabbing his arm before he could call a cab over.

"You sure know your Vietnamese cab scene. That's hot."

She giggled and elbowed his arm. The rain had let up, and they'd met in front of a rundown Pho 24 near their hotels. His date was wearing an Ao Dai, a Vietnamese dress that she claimed to have bought while he was busy 'picking up cheap I heart Vietnam shirts."

The silky red dress complemented her curves perfectly, making him somewhat self conscious of his laissez-faire getup. He looked down at his feet and secretly rued his decision to wear flip-flops just in case it rained again.

"And heeere we go," she said, grabbing his arm and leading him to a cab by a curb.

They pulled up next to an old cafe littered with Vietnam War memorabilia and walked up a set of stairs until they reached their destination. It was a casual rooftop restaurant mainly filled with likeminded visitors, overlooking the busy streets where slew after slew of motorcycles drove by.

Their spot, a table near the back, gave them great vantage over the bustling streets. After going through their orders, she laughed and pointed at an odd Asian tourist stuck on one side of the street, looking for a way through the onslaught of metal and smoke. He also laughed.

"I've always wanted to come here. Guess why."

"You revel in people's misery and suffering?" He said, looking back down at the poor man who was still looking for a way across.

"That too, but actually, a friend told me that Brad Pitt used to come here to eat a lot. Or was it Orlando Bloom? Jolie? I forget." She said with a shrug, which made him laugh again.

"Sounds like you don't care as much as you let on."

"Right. That was just a convenient excuse to enjoy the view. And the shrimp. I hear they're amazing."

Her enthusiasm was contagious. He couldn't help but grin stupidly and nod at everything she said.

"Well you're not talking much. Am I really that breathtaking?"

"You really are."

That stopped her in her tracks. Just as she was opening her mouth to say something, their food arrived.

"How weird is it that I still don't know your name?" She asked, mid-chew.

"About as weird as me not knowing yours. Honestly, I never thought to ask."

"It's rather nice though, no? Pretty romantic if you ask me" she said, playfully batting her eyes at him.

He turned back towards the street. The pudgy Asian man was no more. His heart was racing again. He needed to think of a response. Fast. He forked a giant piece of shrimp and wolfed it down without a second thought.

"Shame you don't seem to agree, here I was thinking you might be a little into me," she said, her playful eyes dead set on his as she twirled the umbrella in her cocktail.

"Uh,"

He started coughing.

"'Scuse me, sorry, I..."

She laughed and handed him some water.

"You're not wrong. That is, I'm really enjoying this. I think you're great. This is great."

"Go on." She said, grinning. At least he could tell she was enjoying this.

"I, um..."

He felt something brush against his shin for the briefest of moments. Then it was gone. Had she done it on purpose? The warm, soft touch of her skin, and the thought alone were enough to get the blood rushing to his crotch. He shifted in his seat a little, thanking the clear blue Vietnamese heavens above that she couldn't see under the table.

"Well I think you're great too. These trips can get pretty lonely. It's pretty great not having to resort to sign-language every five seconds." She popped a shrimp and added, mid-chew, "especially if he's a looker."

Just when he was about to get comfortable, he felt the need to reposition again. Wearing boxers today probably hadn't been a very good idea. He'd never been very good with signs, but it definitely felt as though she was coming onto him.

"So you're traveling alone, what's that like? I mean, I'm also traveling alone, but uh, what's that like for you?" More internal self-punches.

"I get to go wherever, whenever I want, I don't have to wait up in the morning for people to wake up, or deal with whimsical assholes that change our plans last minute and say, 'I'm not really feeling the marketplace anymore, Kinsey, let's just hang out by the pool today,' so it's pretty good. My boyfriend hates it though."

"Oh, you..."

"I'm kidding, I don't have friends."

"Oh."

"Or a boyfriend."

"Oh."

"But yes, my name is Kinsey."

She burst out in laughter. Almost planting her face in the shrimp dish, giving him ample time to fight fiercely against an internal urge to lean over the table and kiss her.

"I'm such a jerk. I'm sorry for being such a jerk."

"Kinda like this jerk shrimp?" He said, feebly holding up a forkful of shrimp.

Before he had time to apologize for his travesty of a joke, she started giggling uncontrollably again.

"Didn't your parents teach you to go easy on the dadjokes when you're out with a girl? You're lucky I have daddy issues."

There it was again. Her leg against his, ever so slightly. Except this time, it was there to stay. He dared not move a muscle. He just looked up at her, dumbstruck, intensely turned on by the simple act, and his heart racing so fast he felt as though he'd begin hyperventilating. He could practically feel his rational sense turn the handle over to his crotch.

"And you're lucky I have a thing for cute girls with daddy issues."

That sounded terrible. He didn't care anymore. She seemed taken aback for a moment, but quickly recovered, smiling mischievously in return.

"Well what do you usually do with these... cute girls with daddy issues? Which, I'm sure you've had aplenty." She said, brushing her leg between his legs, stopping just when he started to fear that they'd go up until they found his erection.

"I wine and dine them on the finest shrimp and cocktails then see them home, make sure they're tucked in by nine. Wouldn't want her parents to worry."

"Oh, and what happens when her parents aren't there to approve?"

He leaned in a little and watched in surprise as she twitched in surprise at his hand, which he had gently placed on her thigh. She seemed to have forgotten her words, simply blushing and looking on at him. He knew she hadn't expected that from him. Hell, he hadn't expected it from himself, but he'd been teased for what felt like an eternity and he felt some payback was due.

"I'm sure we'll work something out," he said, sliding his hand up the thick of her smooth leg, fighting an intense urge to go further up, relenting, and sliding it back down until it rested on her knee, the fingers playfully twiddling around. "What do you think?"

The question seemed to break her out of a trance of sorts. She looked at him, then down at the table, as if she could see through it and what was going underneath. She then downed her cocktail in one long gulp, wrapping a hand on top of his.

"I think I'd like that very much."