Old Tu in Sai Gon
Copyright© 2026 by duhless_90
Chapter 8
Incest Sex Story: Chapter 8 - At seventy-two, Old Tu leaves a forgotten village for Saigon after inheriting a rundown rental block. He comes looking for his lost children, but finds debt, lonely women, gangsters, shame, desire, and a city that will not let an old man stay dead inside.
Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Mult Coercion Consensual Drunk/Drugged Hypnosis NonConsensual Rape Romantic Heterosexual Fiction Humor Rags To Riches Restart Tear Jerker Workplace Cheating Wife Watching Incest Father Daughter InLaws Humiliation Rough Spanking Group Sex Anal Sex Cream Pie Facial Masturbation Oral Sex Petting Squirting Voyeurism Public Sex Size Caution Revenge Slow Violence
Mai sat in the room all afternoon.
The small room was hot and stuffy. The wall fan rattled above her head, blowing out tired air, circling the smell of old clothes, cold rice, and an unemployed person.
She sat on the edge of the bed, both hands on her thighs.
Under the cabinet, the iron box still lay there.
Empty.
Mai did not want to look at it, but her eyes kept unconsciously glancing down. That box was like a mute mouth. It said nothing, but still reminded her of every dong lost, every lie told, every thing that could not be patched back together.
She had gone around asking for work.
The rice shop at the head of the alley said they needed someone to wash dishes, three and a half million salary, meals at the shop. A grocery store said it needed a sales helper, four million a month, from seven in the morning to nine at night. A small tailor shop said if she knew how to overlock, they would take her, but Mai was only used to factory lines, not small piecework sewing, and they looked at her hands then shook their heads.
She had worked in factories for many years.
But once she left the sewing machine, left the sound of the needle stabbing down into cloth, she suddenly realized she did not know anything else.
Mai had quit school after tenth grade.
Poor family. Sick mother. Father dead early. Younger brother still little. She came to the city to work as a factory worker, thinking that if she just worked hard, she could live. When people are young, they often think life is long, that if they keep working, things will get better. But working and working, in the end her hands only knew labor, and her head only knew how to count market money, room money, money to send back home.
She did not know accounting.
She was not good with computers.
Office work was something she did not even dare dream of.
Nhung and Hang downstairs wore high heels, typed on computers, smiled sweetly at customers, and made fifteen million a month. As for her, working until her back hurt in the garment factory, doing overtime until her eyes blurred, sometimes she only made ten, twelve million.
Now even that factory was gone.
Mai felt small.
Small until her throat choked up.
Not because she was poor. She was used to being poor. The pain was that when she wanted to stand up, she found out her feet had nowhere to stand.
There were footsteps in the hallway.
Mai looked up.
A figure walked past her door. A sun jacket covered her from head to foot, a mask covered nearly her whole face, black sunglasses, long gloves. She looked like a white shadow sliding through the hot afternoon.
Mai recognized that shape.
“Quynh.”
The figure stopped.
Quynh turned her head and pulled the mask down a little.
“Yes? Sister Mai, you called me?”
Mai stood and went to the door.
“You going to work?”
“Yes. I’m getting ready to go to the place.”
Mai looked at Quynh’s tightly covered sun gear. In the daytime she always covered herself up, as if afraid sunlight would touch her skin. But Mai had seen Quynh coming home from work late at night, dark eye makeup, loose hair, smelling of perfume and cigarette smoke, completely different from the girl standing in front of her now.
Mai hesitated.
“You ... you work as a DJ?”
Quynh’s eyes widened a little.
“Huh?”
“At that cafe.”
Quynh looked Mai up and down.
The look was not mean. Only surprised.
“Why are you asking?”
Mai pressed her lips together.
“The work at that cafe ... does it pay much?”
Quynh took her sunglasses all the way off.
Her eyes studied Mai more carefully.
“You want to work there?”
Mai did not answer right away.
Quynh looked at Mai’s figure, at her face that was still pretty despite the tiredness, at that look of a woman who had been through a lot but had not yet withered away. Then she told the truth.
“Actually, your shape would work.”
Mai flushed a little.
“I’m only asking.”
“But what do you want to do at the cafe? Serving?”
Mai nodded.
“Yeah. Serving. Washing glasses is fine too.”
Quynh gave a small laugh.
“Then go ask at the cafe at the alley mouth. Wash glasses, carry drinks, wipe tables. I heard it’s two or three million a month.”
Mai went quiet.
“Two or three million...”
“Yeah.”
“Too low.”
The words slipped from Mai’s mouth very softly.
Quynh looked at her.
Mai lowered her head.
“Not enough to live anymore.”
Quynh was silent for a while.
She glanced toward the stairs, then looked back at Mai.
“Actually, my side pays higher.”
Mai looked up.
“Really?”
“But the important thing is whether you want to do it.”
Mai heard that, and her heart sank.
She understood what Quynh meant.
No money was easy. Especially money in night places. She had never worked there, but it was not as if she had never heard. Men, liquor, music, tips. When those things went together, no matter how clean it was, there was still a smell.
But one week at home had scared Mai more.
Every day without work was another day money drained away.
Every meal was another stab.
Every time Hung came home, she had to read his face, read his words, guess how much anger was left inside her husband, how much forgiveness, how many things she did not understand.
Mai took a breath.
“I can do it.”
Quynh looked at her.
“You sure?”
Mai nodded.
“Sure.”
Quynh pulled her mask back up.
“Then come with me.”
Mai froze a little.
“Now?”
“Yeah. I’m going to work now. You come look first. If you can’t take it, go home.”
Mai looked into the room.
The empty room. The empty iron box. Tomorrow empty too.
She turned back in, took a small bag, put her phone and a little loose money inside.
“I’ll go.”
Quynh said nothing more.
The two of them went downstairs.
On the ground floor, Old Tu’s company was still busy. A truck was parked in the yard, boxes being pulled up and down. Old Tu lay in a hammock, listening to the radio. Hoang stood near the warehouse door, phone in hand, talking with a driver.
Mai walked past and did not dare look long.
Hoang glanced over and saw her walking with Quynh. His gaze stopped for a moment, then he turned away as if nothing had happened.
Quynh took Mai on her motorbike.
Saigon afternoon was hot, exhaust smoke mixed with sunlight. The two of them slipped through crowded streets, then turned into an area full of drinking places, karaoke bars, and colored-light cafes. The sky was not fully dark yet, but the signs had already lit up, green, red, purple, yellow, blinking like sleepless eyes.
Quynh’s place was on a corner.
A big sign. Foreign words mixed with Vietnamese. In daylight it looked a little tacky, but once night fell, it would probably shine bright like a trap.
As soon as Mai stepped to the door, she heard the music pounding out.
Not the kind of music from the cafe at the alley mouth.
It beat straight into the chest.
Thump thump.
Thump thump.
The door had only opened a crack when a heavy hot breath of air blew out. The smell of liquor, cigarettes, cheap and expensive perfume mixed together, the smell of chemical-cleaned floors, the smell of human skin trapped in air-conditioning.
Mai stopped dead.
Her legs seemed to go soft.
Inside, lights ran in streaks. A few staff were cleaning tables. Someone was adjusting speakers. Young girls in server uniforms walked back and forth, short skirts, tight tops, high ponytails, red lipstick. The place was not crowded yet, but the air already made Mai feel choked.
Quynh turned back. Seeing Mai’s pale face, she laughed.
“What? You want to go home?”
Mai swallowed.
She looked inside.
Then remembered the empty iron box.
Remembered the twelve million in room money.
Remembered Hung.
Remembered Old Tu’s sentence: “So you’re just planning to stiff me on the debt?”
Mai tightened her grip on the bag strap.
“No.”
She said it softly but firmly.
“I’ll work.”
Quynh looked at her for another beat.
“Then go to the back door. I’ll take you to meet the manager.”
The two of them did not go through the front.
Quynh led Mai around the side of the place, through a narrow path that smelled of wet trash and sewer water. Behind the place was a cramped yard, high walls, cold white lights. There were plastic bins, empty beer crates, a few broken chairs stacked on top of one another.
Mai had just stepped in when she saw the familiar truck.
Old Tu’s company truck.
There was no big logo, but she recognized the color of the truck, recognized the driver who often stood smoking under the rental block yard. The truck door was open. Several loaders were carrying boxes down one by one. Plain brown cardboard boxes, with no fruit juice words printed outside like at the company.
Mai slowed.
Near the back door, Hoang was standing and talking to a man in a black shirt.
The other man had his head lowered, smiling, his manner very humble. Hoang still had that student look, neat shirt, calm eyes. But in this place, he looked completely different.
Not Hoang from the rental block, always giving Old Tu that faint smile.
Not the person standing beside boxes of fruit juice.
Here, he stood in the back entrance of a night place, beside an unmarked truck, with quiet boxes being moved inside, and he was still calm as if he were signing for bottled water.
Mai suddenly felt cold at the back of her neck.
She asked softly:
“Old Tu’s company delivers to this place too?”
Quynh looked over.
“I don’t know either.”
“You work here and you don’t know?”
“I always go through the front. Today I’m bringing you, so I came around back.”
After saying that, Quynh called out:
“Brother Binh.”
The man in the black shirt who was bending to talk to Hoang immediately turned his head.
As soon as he turned, half of that humble look on his face switched off. He looked at Quynh, then at Mai, and walked over.
“What is it? Why’d you come down here?”
Quynh pulled her mask down.
“There’s an older sister who wants to ask for work.”
The man named Binh looked Mai from head to toe.
The look was very professional. Not like Hoang. Not like Old Quy either. It was like a seller looking at merchandise, calculating where to place it to get a good price.
“How old?”
Mai answered:
“Twenty-nine.”
Binh grimaced.
“Too old.”
Mai went stiff.
Quynh hurried to say:
“Brother, she still looks good.”
Binh waved a hand.
“Here I take eighteen to twenty-five. Young, quick, knows how to smile. What is twenty-nine coming in here for?”
Mai lowered her head.
Binh asked next:
“Got a husband and kids yet?”
Mai froze.
“I have a husband.”
Binh immediately shook his head.
“Then forget it. Take you in and you’ll wreck my place.”
Mai looked up.
“I’m only asking to serve...”
“Serving is even worse. You have a husband already. What if he gets jealous and comes here making trouble? Who takes responsibility? Then a customer touches a little and you cry, complain, make a mess.”
Quynh cut in:
“Brother Binh, she really needs work. Let her try a few shifts.”
“No.”
Binh turned away.
“Take her back.”
Mai stood there, her face burning hot.
She knew she was not young like the girls in the place. Knew she had no experience. Knew having a husband was a disadvantage here. But hearing someone say “too old” right to her face still hurt.
Twenty-nine years old.
Not old enough to die.
But old enough to be rejected at a night place.
She hugged her bag and said softly:
“Forget it, Quynh. I’ll go home.”
Quynh was about to keep begging, but Binh had already turned his back.
Right then, Hoang called:
“Brother Binh.”
Hoang’s voice was not loud.
But Binh stopped at once.
He turned his head.
“Yes?”
Hoang stood a few steps away, phone in hand. His eyes passed over Mai for a second, then looked at Binh.
“Come here. Let me say something.”
Binh went over immediately.
Mai could not hear clearly what they said.
Hoang only spoke a few very short sentences. At first Binh frowned, then glanced toward Mai. Hoang said one more sentence. Binh nodded at once.
“Yes. I understand.”
Hoang did not look at Mai again.
He turned to check the boxes just unloaded, as if what had just happened had nothing to do with him.
Binh came back.
His expression had changed.
Not friendly exactly, but he was not chasing her away anymore.
He stood in front of Mai and looked her up and down again.
“Can you take hardship?”
Mai was a little stunned.
“What?”
“I’m asking if you can take hardship.”
Mai hurried to nod.
“Yes. I can.”
“This place isn’t like a normal cafe. Loud music, drunk customers, lots of standing, lots of smiling. When you’re called, you come. If you can’t do it, quit early. Don’t waste my time.”
“Yes.”
Binh crossed his arms.
“Server salary is five million.”
Mai felt a little let down.
Five million was still low.
But Binh continued:
“Gratuities, tips, the staff keep all of it. The place doesn’t split it. If you’re hardworking, you make more. Lazy, you make less. Meet a generous customer and one night equals several days of salary.”
Mai looked up.
Quynh stood beside her, leaned close, and said softly:
“Serving means you gotta put up with some contact. Customers can be drunk, talk dirty, touch with their hands. But it’s not selling your body. You know how to dodge, know how to smile, know how to call security, then it’s fine. If you can stand it, the money is pretty good, sister.”
Binh heard and laughed.
“My servers, the ones who work, make twenty million a month too.”
Mai stared.
“Twenty?”
“Yeah. Five salary, ten-plus in tips. Some more.”
Mai felt her heart pound.
Fifteen million in tips.
Just the tips were already higher than her factory wage.
Binh saw her expression and laughed.
“What’s shocking about that? Here, money flies at night. Catch it and you have it. Don’t catch it and you watch others catch it.”
Mai turned to look at Quynh.
Quynh stood still, eyes lowered toward the back yard.
Mai asked softly:
“Then you ... working DJ, you must make a lot?”
Binh laughed and cut in:
“Quynh? A normal month for her is forty, fifty million.”
Mai froze.
“Forty, fifty...”
She looked at Quynh as if looking at a stranger.
“If you’re that rich, why are you still living in that place?”
As soon as she said it, Mai knew she had misspoken.
Quynh’s face sank.
She pulled her mask back up, her voice going lighter.
“It’s not like I’m living just for myself.”
Mai fell silent at once.
Some sentences only need half to be understood. Behind Quynh there was probably a hole too. Mother, siblings, debt, sickness, relatives, or something even heavier. No one earned night money without a daytime reason.
Mai did not dare ask more.
Binh looked at his watch.
“All right. Go in for the trial.”
Mai startled.
“Right now?”
“If not now, when? Tonight’s busy. Quynh, take this sister in to change.”
Quynh lightly tugged Mai’s hand.
Quynh did not take Mai deep inside. At the back door, she only tilted her head toward the dark hallway inside. “Go in there. Changing room on the left. If anyone asks, say Brother Binh sent you for a trial.”
Mai hesitated. “You’re not coming in with me?”
Quynh had already yanked off her sun jacket.
She was like a peacock spreading its tail in the narrow hallway. The performance outfit underneath was extremely hot and seductive: a glossy black bikini-style bra, thin as anything, only enough to cover her tight round nipples, the lower part cut short and deeply split, showing almost all of her slim firm waist. The tight leather shorts were pulled low in the back, clearly showing the line of her smooth white ass crack and two high curved cheeks. In front, the shorts sat so low they were only about a centimeter from her pussy, making anyone looking hold their breath, afraid one hard move would expose everything.
Quynh really was beautiful. Long legs, healthy white skin, a perfect hourglass body, shiny hair loose over her shoulders. She was no longer the girl wrapped up tight at the rental block, but an expensive toy of the night.
Quynh swiped lipstick quickly over her lips and glanced at Mai through a small mirror. “I’m going on stage.” She added, her voice calm: “Here everyone takes care of themselves. If you can stand it, work. If you can’t, go home early.”
After saying that, Quynh pushed the door open and stepped out.
The door flew wide. The bass hit Mai hard in the chest.
Thump thump.
Thump thump.
Red and green lights swept across Quynh’s body. She stepped up to the DJ platform with a graceful walk, one hand on the mixer, the other giving the crowd a light wave. At once, the whole floor screamed:
“Quynh!!!”
“So hot!!!”
“Hot girl DJ!!!”
“You’re wearing so little cloth!!!”
Quynh smiled seductively, bending so the shorts slipped a little lower, showing the crack of her ass more clearly. The male customers shouted, whistled, clapped hard. She was like a living flame, pulling every eye in the place.
Mai stood alone outside the hallway, her heart heavy.
She lowered her head and entered the changing room.
A few days earlier, she had stood on the ground floor of Old Tu’s company, watching Nhung and Hang in office dresses, shirts, high heels, smiling sweetly at the desks. Mai had thought, if only she could do clean work like that.
Today she was wearing a white shirt too.
A pencil skirt too.
Low shoes so she would look less country too.
But not to sit in an office.
To ask for work in a dim-light place, where the liquor smell was so strong it stung her nose before she even went inside.
The changing room was at the end of the hallway.
Mai pushed the door open.
Inside it was cramped, hot, thick with the smell of makeup and sweat. Dented metal lockers leaned against the wall. Lipstick, powder, combs, hair ties, a few small bills, and a crushed pack of cigarettes were scattered all over the makeup table.
There were several girls in the room.
One was putting on false lashes, her eyes flicking at Mai in the mirror before turning away. A younger one sat on a chair, head down over her phone, one foot propped on a cardboard box. An older one was tying her hair, looked Mai over once, but did not ask.
No one greeted her.
No one smiled.
The silence in the changing room was not polite silence. It was the silence of people who had seen too many newcomers arrive and disappear, so they did not bother remembering faces.
Mai stood awkwardly near the door.
A brown-dyed girl with dark red lips, chewing gum, asked:
“New one?”
Mai nodded slightly.
“Yes. Brother Binh told me to come in for a trial.”
The girl looked at Mai’s white shirt and pencil skirt, the corner of her mouth lifting.
“You going to a bank interview, sister?”
The other girls laughed softly.
Mai blushed.
The older girl glanced at them.
“Enough. Let her change.”
Mai said softly:
“Can I ... can I wear this?”
The brown-haired girl burst out laughing.
“Sure. If you’re going to collect the electric bill.”
Mai lowered her head.
The white shirt suddenly looked pitifully out of place.
She looked at herself in the mirror.
A woman trying to dress like office staff. Trying to be clean. Neat. Trying to keep a little decency. But the yellowed mirror in the changing room showed the truth cruelly: she did not belong in an office, and she did not yet belong in this place either. She stood halfway between two places, and neither place accepted her.
Right then, the door flew open.
Binh stepped into the changing room, his eyes sweeping across Mai like he was judging an item of goods. He was not satisfied with her office clothes.
“Stand still.”
Binh took a pair of scissors, bent down, and cut hard into the hem of her pencil skirt.
Snip.
Snip.
Two long cuts in front and back turned the skirt that had reached past her knees into something tiny, barely covering past her ass. Every time Mai walked, the white curve of her ass and the edge of her white panties would clearly peek out.
Mai panicked and raised her hands to cover herself. Binh knocked her hands away and continued, yanking off the top three buttons of her white shirt.
Pop.
Pop.
Pop.
Her full chest strained, her deep cleavage showing plainly.
The white shirt gaped open, revealing the cheap bra she had bought at the market. Thick rough fabric, gray-white, covering her breasts completely, two old broad straps, looking both country and out of place in the colored-light air of the club.
Binh frowned and sneered:
“You wore this thing here?”
He did not wait for Mai to react. He grabbed the two bra straps hard and cut them too. The crude bra snapped apart and fell to the floor. Mai’s smooth white breasts popped free completely, with nothing left covering them. Her pink nipples tightened slightly from the cold and shame.
Mai panicked and hugged her chest.
“Brother Binh ... don’t!!!”
Binh shoved her hands away roughly.
“Hands down. Stand still!”
Mai trembled all over, tears pooling in her eyes. She felt as if she were being stripped naked in front of everyone. Binh stepped back, looked, then nodded, satisfied.
“Now that’s right.”
Mai looked into the mirror. Her full breasts were now completely free, deep cleavage, the two round breasts trembling lightly with every breath. The ruined white shirt only barely covered past her nipples. Each time she bent down, the tips would almost show completely. The butchered pencil skirt barely covered past her ass, white panty edge showing, the curve of her butt visible whenever she moved.
Mai went dead still. Shame and fear surged up. What have I become? A cheap whore for customers to look at? She wanted to cry, wanted to run outside, wanted to hide back home.
But then the image of her old mother lying alone in a damp rented room, her younger brother waiting for school-fee money, rushed back. She thought of money she had to live off Hung for, the times she had to beg, the nights worrying how she would survive tomorrow and the day after.
Mai bit her lip until it bled. Both hands gripped the torn shirt. She took a deep breath.
Have to live ... have to take it...
She slowly lowered her hands and stood straight. Her heart was still shaking with fear, but there was already a little determination in her eyes. Mai adjusted the short skirt, took another deep breath, then walked out of the changing room.
Binh tossed the scissors onto the makeup table.
“All right.”
Mai still stood still.
Binh looked her over again, then lifted his mouth a little.
“You’ve got spirit.”
Mai did not know whether that was praise or mockery.
He pointed outside.
“Go to section B. B1 to B6 are yours. Customers come, ask for the order, write it in the book, take it to the bar. Drinks come out, carry them over. Customer pays, print the bill, collect money, bring it back to the bar.”
He spoke fast, like reading old rules.
“Tips customers give you are yours. The place doesn’t split them. But drop something and you pay. Write the wrong item and you take it. Too many complaints from customers and you quit. Understand?”
Mai nodded.
“Yes.”
“Don’t stand there like a post. If customers call, you go. If you can’t hear what a customer says, bend down and ask. Music’s loud here. Nobody has time to repeat every sentence for you.”
“Yes.”
Binh looked at her once more.
“Go.”
After saying that, he turned and went out.
The girls in the room went back to their own things. One put on lipstick. One fixed lashes. One bent her head over her phone. As if what had just happened was nothing special.
Mai stood a few more seconds.
She bent down and picked up the three shirt buttons, holding them in her palm.
The buttons had fallen.
No time to sew them back on.
She put them into her bag, then picked up the black tray and the small order book on the table.
The older girl, probably someone who had worked there a long time, glanced at Mai.
“When you go out, don’t keep pulling your shirt. If customers see you’re shy, they’ll tease you more.”
Mai froze.
“Yes.”
The woman continued:
“And don’t cry. Crying here gets you no pity.”
Mai looked at her.
The woman did not look back, only took a lipstick and swiped it over her mouth.
Mai did not know whether that was kindness or coldness.
But she still nodded slightly.
“Thank you.”
The girl did not answer.
Mai took a deep breath.
Then opened the door and stepped out.
The music hit her face at once.
Thump thump.
Thump thump.
Red and green lights swept over her body. Cigarette smoke hung under the ceiling. The smell of liquor was stronger than before. Women’s perfume, men’s sweat, beer spilled on tables, all of it mixed into one thick air.
Mai stood at the edge of section B.
B1 to B6.
Six tables lay in the dark area beside the stage, near enough to see Quynh on the DJ platform, hidden enough for customers to do more things without anyone noticing right away.
Quynh had started the music.
Under the lights, she was no longer Quynh from the rental block. She tilted her head to the beat, hair tossing over her shoulder, mouth smiling but eyes cold. The customers below watched her, whistling, clapping. She did not look at Mai. Or if she did, she did not show it.
Mai tightened her grip on the tray.
At table B1, two men had just sat down. One had a slightly fat belly, shirt untucked. The other was thinner, slicked hair, a gold ring on his hand. Both were already tipsy.
Mai stepped over, trying to keep her voice steady.
“What would you two like?”
The music was too loud. The fat-bellied man tilted his ear.
“Huh? Can’t hear you, baby. Bend down and say it loud in my ear.”
Mai hesitated, but still leaned close. Just as her mouth came near his ear, the fat-bellied man suddenly turned his face, deliberately making Mai’s lips touch his cheek. At the same time, his hand “accidentally” scraped hard across her waist.
“Oh! Your lips are so soft!”
He laughed loudly and slapped his thigh. The skinny man shouted:
“Hey, first day in and you’re already kissing customers? Is your cunt as soft as your mouth?”
Mai stood frozen, her face red as if she had been slapped. She wanted to run, but her feet seemed buried in the floor.
The fat-bellied man laughed lewdly.
“Whatever. Give us a beer tower, fruit plate. Later I’ll call you privately and see if that cunt of yours knows how to please customers.”
Mai wrote the order with her hands shaking, the letters crooked. When she turned away, the skinny man shouted after her:
“Your ass is that round, shake it a little for me!”
Mai walked back to the bar, heart pounding, tears in her eyes. Another server passed by and whispered:
“B1 is still light.”
...
Table B3 had three people. Two young men and one middle-aged man sitting with his legs spread very wide, almost blocking the path.
Mai carried the tray and stopped.
“Please let me pass to put the drinks down.”
The middle-aged man smiled lazily.
“Go ahead, baby.”
But he did not close his legs. Mai gritted her teeth and squeezed through. Just as one of her legs was between his thighs, he suddenly lifted his knee and rubbed hard against her inner thigh, close to the slit of her pussy.
“Ah!”
Mai stopped short, the tray wobbling slightly.
The middle-aged man laughed dirty.
“Hey, careful now. Don’t get my pants wet.”
The two young men roared laughing.
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