The Girl Next Door

Angie's degree and her experience as a kindergarten teacher had been very attractive to Paul and Rachel, and they had been agreeable to a deal were Angie only received a small stipend, but had all of her living and travel expenses paid. Angie would be here until the building was completed and we all went back to Seattle.

Angie gave me a chaste hug when she walked up, then shook her new employer's hand. "How were your flights?" Paul asked.

She smiled tiredly. "Long. I left Seattle twenty-one hours ago." But then she put on a smile. "At least at my size, it's like getting business class legroom, even though I flew coach."

He laughed. "Yeah, at my size it's pretty much the opposite." Rachel was a very good cook, and it showed around his waist.

Paul and I each grabbed a case and we made our way out to his vehicle. After their first month in-country, Paul had gotten tired of dealing with cramped little taxis and had gotten the temporary Vietnamese license required for foreigners to drive here. I thought he was crazy, seeing as how local traffic was total chaos with basically no rules, but he seemed to handle it just fine.

It was a thirty-mile drive from Noi Bai International to what we lovingly called the Hanoi Hilton. (There really was a Hilton hotel in Hanoi now, so we were careful to call our residence building by its actual name when dealing with taxi drivers.) Paul's Indonesian-built Toyota van was small compared to American models, but quite roomy by Vietnamese standards. Angie sighed happily as she settled into the front passenger seat and stretched her legs out.

"So I want to make sure I know how this is going to work," Angie said as we made it off the airport grounds and onto what passed for the open road. "I'll be helping Rachel for twelve hours a day, six days a week, right?"

"Exactly," Paul said. "Now if you change your mind and want more time off, just let us know and we can adjust that. We've gotten you an efficiency unit in the same building. You're on the twelfth floor and we're on the seventh, but there are several elevators, so the commute should be bearable."

Angie laughed dutifully. I'd actually been the one to choose her unit for her, and imagine my surprise to find that the only efficiency still available was just across the hall from mine.

"Our building is only four blocks from the tower and it's a mecca for Western workers and ex-pats," Paul continued. "You'll almost always have English speakers around you, but you'll also hear a lot of Spanish, German, Russian, and especially French. There's a grocery store and other shopping on the lower levels that cater to westerners, so you can choose just how much of the local culture you want to expose yourself to."

"That sounds like a good way to start out," Angie said, "but eventually I'll want to get out and experience what it's like here."

"Great," he said. "I'm sure you'll love it. There's a lot to see."

So Paul and I filled Angie in on what it was like in this odd communist country with its thriving capitalist sector. It was a bizarre mixture of ancient culture mixed in with some modern technology, and a population that was eagerly and optimistically working toward a brighter, freer future.

For her part, Angie filled us in with all of the local news from Seattle and the latest crazy stuff to come out of city hall. I was a bit homesick, and any news from home was welcome.

Still, I couldn't help messing with her a little. I made sure I was situated in a position where Paul couldn't see me in the rearview mirror, then caught Angie's attention and stuck my tongue way out beyond my wide spread lips, pantomiming licking her pussy. I had used this surreptitious little tease on her many times before, mostly when I could see that she was horny but not in a position where we could do anything about it. It always drove her nuts.

Angie practically lurched in her seat and I could see the feral lust suddenly burning in her eyes. I hoped she wouldn't leave a wet spot on the van's nice cloth seats. Okay, it was cruel on my part, but she'd have gleefully done the same if our positions had been switched, and I knew I'd be able to make it up to her in a big way in just a little while.

Soon, we were getting close to the downtown area. It was after eleven and the city was blazing with more lights than would have been believed just fifteen years before.

"Is that it?" she asked, looking at the skyline through the windshield. I ducked a little from the second row so I could look up at what she was seeing.

"Yup, that's the Ngo Quyen Tower," I said with some pride. Some of the unique shape and style of the building had been my work. "We had our topping out ceremony last week, but just wait until you see it with the last of the cladding installed next month. It'll also look better without those huge cranes poking out from the top."

"Wow," she murmured. "You showed us the drawings and I've been following the construction, but I still wasn't expecting it to be so tall, or beautiful. It kind of takes your breath away."

High praise, coming from Angie.

"We'll be driving right by the site on the way to the Hilton," Paul said. "You'll be able to pretty much look straight up at it through the sunroof."

"Can I take a tour sometime?" she asked. "I'd love to see the view from up there."

"Well..." he said hesitantly. "I did take Rachel up last week, but it will have to be some evening after the construction guys go home for the night. It can get dangerous with hundreds of guys working with large tools and moving stuff around."

"I'd be happy to take her up there," I said to Paul. "I know how much you value your family time."

"Sure, that would be fine," he said, trying in vain to disguise his relief.

"I'm sure you'll want to get settled in," I said to Angie, "but after that, whenever you're ready would be fine." I had to figure that she was anxious to get alone with me and break the drought, and frankly, I'd had about enough of celibacy myself. But Angie surprised me.

"Would it be okay if we went up there now, since we're driving right by anyway?"

"Well," I said, "I guess it is after working hours, but what about your luggage?"

"Oh, I'd be happy to roll it into your room for you," Paul said.

"Wow, thanks. I hope I'm not being pushy, but it really is amazing and I can't wait to check it out."

"It's the least I can do for someone who appreciates the things we work so hard on," he said approvingly. He handed her a key card, which she slipped into her purse. "I'll leave the other one on your dresser," he said.

The night guards knew me, but their English was about as good as my Vietnamese. Technically, they shouldn't have let Angie in without a badge, but I'm sure they assumed she was my wife, considering the paucity of Caucasian women in the city.

I led her to the construction elevator, a steel mesh car that went up and down the outside of the building on a temporary track that was bolted to the structure every couple of floors. It was spindly to the point of giving me the willies. "Are you afraid of heights?" I asked.

"Did you forget that I used to be a rock climber?" she said, raising an eyebrow at me. "I could probably go up the side of this building without the elevator."

"Please don't." I shivered at the thought. I was afraid of heights and still wasn't in the least comfortable with riding this crazy contraption up and down, but it was part of the job. Go figure, a guy with a dream of building tall buildings who doesn't like heights.

"Weenie," she laughed, seeing my expression.

"Wench."

The elevator stopped at the 93rd floor and we took the temporary stairs to the mostly flat roof, three floors further up. The place was deserted, of course. There was some work going on down on the lower floors that had been glassed in, but knowing the construction schedules like the back of my hand, I knew that nobody was within thirty floors of us. We were likely further from other people than any other two people within the borders of Hanoi.

Angie went straight to the temporary handrail at the edge of the building, next to one of the two cranes, and leaned over it, looking straight down.

"Hey, be careful," I scolded.

She turned her head to me, grinning. "What, the handrails you guys build can't handle a little girl leaning on them?"

She was technically correct, of course. The railing could probably have supported a horse. Still, I didn't like that she was so casual about such a huge drop. We were eleven-hundred feet above the street.

I decided on the fly that the best thing to do with her at this point would be to snatch her and carry her into the interior of the building for a little fun. I'd have felt better about doing that kind of thing in one of our rooms, but I knew how much she liked sex in strange places, and our chances of getting caught at it were virtually nil. It would also get her away from the edge of the building, where she was still hanging over the rail.

I approached carefully, wanting to grab her before she figured out what I was up to. I padded silently and was almost to her when she turned and pointed toward one of the massive cranes that soared up and away from the building. "Look, Connor, there's no rail over there," she exclaimed happily.

Holy shit! I couldn't even let her think about that. I lunged for her, but she laughed out loud and scooted out of the way. The girl was quick, I had to give her that.

In a flash, she'd vaulted the rail that was supposed to keep people away from the base of the crane. Then she walked straight up to the edge and stepped up on the foot-wide combing that went all the way around the top of the building. There was indeed no rail here. Her toes were no more than two inches from the edge. She looked down, oohing and aahing at the view.

"Goddammit, Angie, that's not funny," I yelled. I was in a near panic seeing her out there like that. "You get your ass back here right now!"

She spun to look at me. Now her heels were two inches from the edge. If she lost her balance, there was nothing within reach for her to grab a hold of.

"Relax, Connor," she said. "I've stood right at the edge of El Capitan."

"Yeah, but you didn't do it in front of me. How would I ever explain it to Jack and Kim if I let you fall off of this building?"

She ignored that, instead looking up. "Hey, the crane's got a catwalk."

NO! I screamed inside my head. I was so scared now that I couldn't even make my voice work.

Angie bounded over to the base of the crane, where four huge legs were bolted to the structural steel of the building. The legs were heavily cross braced and went straight up eighty feet to where the slewing unit turned the long, diagonal arm of the crane. There was a ladder that went up one of the legs.

"I swear to God, Angie, if you climb that ladder, I'll..." Actually, I couldn't think of what I'd do. I wasn't her boss. Short of chasing her down or calling security, neither of which I was going to do, I couldn't stop her. "If you don't come back right now, I'm never bringing you up here again."

"After what I've done so far," she said, "there's no way you'd bring me up here again anyway. I need to do this while I can. But if you follow me up to where it turns, I'll be a good girl." With that, she laid her purse down at the base of the leg and scampered upwards.

I was torn. She was trying to force me to do something I didn't want to do, but if by climbing up the ladder I could get her to behave and come back down, then that was what I needed to do.

A complicating factor was that the crane was owned and operated by a subcontractor who specialized in such things. They brought it in, set it up, and operated it. No one else was supposed to touch it. If they found out that I'd allowed someone else up there, potentially interfering with, or even sabotaging their equipment, I could get in huge trouble. Maybe more so if I went up there myself.

There was nothing for it, though. In for a penny, in for a pound, as our British friends say.

I clambered over the rail and walked carefully over to the leg. Naturally, it was one of the two that were right at the edge of the building. Looking down, I noticed that a fog had rolled in below us. The full moon lit it up brightly. With the exception of a few shorter skyscrapers poking up through the soup, it felt like we were floating alone above the clouds.

Angie was already halfway up the ladder when I stepped onto the first steel rung. I went up at a smooth, steady pace, trying not to think of how exposed we were up here. Just one hand over the other, putting my feet on one rung at a time. Soon I was approaching the top, where Angie was actually behaving by waiting for me.

I pulled myself through the center of the ring of the slewing unit to stand on the decking, next to the cab. "Okay, Angie. Happy now?"

"Not as happy as I'm going to be once I get clear to the top."

"What? You said you'd be a 'good girl'." I weighed the possibility of grabbing her. But then what? Was I going to throw her over my shoulder and carry her down the ladder?

"I said I'd be a good girl. You're going to see what a good climber girl I am."

"Hey, that's not what we agreed to."

"And what exactly was that?"

"The deal was–" But my words were said to her back as she started up the narrow "catwalk." The bigger problem, among a dozen others with us being up here, was that it really wasn't a catwalk.

The part of the crane we had climbed so far was designed to be climbed. After all, the operator had to come up to the cab to run the thing. It took a special kind of person to do that, of course. Someone with years of experience, a deft touch on the controls, nerves of steel – and no fear of heights. But it was designed to be climbed.

The diagonal arm of the crane, though, was made of tubular steel welded into a box frame about eight feet on a side. It was attached to the vertical tower through two massive bearings that allowed it to swivel up and down, and by cables that extended from the top of the tower, fifty feet above us. Below the bearings was a large catwalk that was used by workers to service the mechanisms.

The arm of the crane reached about another two hundred feet into the sky. What Angie called a "catwalk" was just a foot-wide strip of heavy steel mesh welded along the bottom of the box, about eight inches from the side. There was also a two-inch steel tube welded halfway up the side of the box, acting as a single handrail.

The little walkway was designed to be used during daylight hours by the crew assembling the crane. These highly-skilled men would be in hard hats with safety lines clipped in at all times, and they would be assembling the sections with the crane horizontal. It wasn't supposed to be climbed at a forty-degree angle by a novice in the moonlight, without a single piece of safety equipment.

I could see the rock climber in Angie, though, as she scooted up the crane. Her movements were sure and graceful – almost catlike. Then she stopped and turned toward me. Even in the terrifying and ridiculous circumstance I couldn't help but admire how amazing she looked, perched up there.

"Connor, I'm not doing this to be mean," she said. "Well, not just to be mean. I think you take life too seriously. Here you are, alone with your mistress, five thousand miles from home, and you're all uptight. Come on, live a little."

I stayed right where I was.

Seeing that her exhortation wasn't going to be enough to get me to climb the crane, she changed tacks. "Look, my aim when I first saw the pictures of this crane, back in Seattle, was to climb out to the end and stand on that little circle of steel. It's only maybe a foot-and-a-half in diameter and there's nothing to hold onto. A girl's gotta have her thrills."

I'm sure my face relayed perfectly the inner horror of what I was feeling, contemplating the image of her doing that.

She sighed. "Okay, Connor, I'm sorry I lured you up here on false pretenses. I still really wanna stand on the circle, but I'll tell you what. If you climb out to the end of the crane with me, I promise to keep my feet on the catwalk and a hand on the rail at all times. I'll stay close to you, heed your safety concerns, come back when you do, then give you not a lick of trouble on this property again. No tricks, no evasions. I promise."

I knew this side of Angie. She'd keep that promise. If I went with her. Otherwise...

It was time to man up. "Okay, wait for me," I said, resigned to doing perhaps the stupidest, most dangerous thing I'd ever done in my entire life. I took a firm hold on the single rail and put a foot on the mesh. It felt thin and bouncy under my weight. Fantastic.

"Come on," she urged. "We've both gotta go to work in the morning and I still need to get laid tonight."

Well, the idea of finally being alone with her back at the Hilton was a pretty good incentive. I began to move in earnest.

Despite Hanoi's perpetually humid air, the rail and mesh were dry and provided decent grip. I was careful and methodical, paying close attention to what I was doing, but still making good time. I kept an eye on Angie to make sure she was following the rules and was satisfied that she was behaving. I didn't look down.

It actually didn't take long before we approached the end of the crane. The business end had pulleys for the cables and indeed, a little circular steel platform at the top. It was tilted at the same forty-degree angle as the crane, so Angie wouldn't have been able to have stood on it anyway. Sheesh.

I'd forgotten about the cage mounted to the side of the crane on bearings that kept it horizontal. There were two rotating aviation obstruction warning lights attached to it on six foot pylons, where they could be serviced as necessary – in daylight, with the crane horizontal, etc. The word "cage" was a bit of a misnomer, though, since it was just a mesh floor with three steel rails around it, up to just about my waist level.

Angie had been about twenty feet ahead of me the whole way up, obviously impatient with my slow progress, but staying within the terms of our agreement. Now, though, she grabbed the rungs of the ladder that came up from the cage and climbed down into it. "Hey," I yelled, "be careful."

"I am being careful," she replied indignantly. "I kept my feet where feet are supposed to go and I'm still holding onto the handrail."

Okay, I would have had to admit that getting into the cage was no more dangerous than climbing the catwalk, but still. I'd hoped that we'd just reach the end, then head right back down and get to the Hilton for a little late-night fun.

It took me another thirty seconds to get to the top of the crane myself. I maintained three points of contact at all times as I maneuvered myself onto the ladder and climbed down into the little cage. My movements were somewhat hampered by the fact that looking at her lithe body on the way up had given me a raging erection.

Finally, I stepped safely into the cage and turned around to face Angie, reaching into my pocket for my phone and planning to snap a couple of quick pictures before we headed back down.

Suddenly, though, my concerns about being at the top of a spindly web of steel a quarter mile above the streets of Hanoi were swept away to the farthest reaches of my mind. Apart from her little canvas shoes, Angie was completely nude. Her clothes were in a pile on the floor of the cage.

I shook my head to make sure this wasn't a figure of my imagination. Nope, from her toned legs, to her slim hips, tiny waist, cute breasts and unruly mop of brunette hair, Angie was buck naked – and about eighteen inches in front of me. "Uh, you're not really thinking of doing that here, are you?" I stammered.