Fan fiction by bonheur - Page 2

Too funny Bon. 😆 😆 😆 Finally ACD saves Priya from Cockroach and Jc is too happy!!! 😆 😆 😆 too good!!! keep it up!!!

A FOREIGN AFFAIR

This is in two parts. The first part is posted below. The next part will be posted tomorrow. This story is entirely a work of fiction; any resemblance to any characters we know is purely coincidental since I have never met any of them;-)

Part I

Durai was peering at his computer screen, his brows characteristically furrowed. He was in the midst of re-submitting an application for a search warrant when the phone rang. It was his fourth attempt at pressing his case; he had failed three times before and was beginning to despair. The call was from a police detective who was tracking Sivaraman's movements.

"Sir, I thought you may be interested to know that Sivaraman and Miss Priya will be leaving for Malaysia tomorrow morning."

"What? Why"

"Madam Charu insisted that Sivaraman go to help her settle some matters."

"No, no. I want to know why Priya is going."

"I have no idea, Sir. All I heard is Sivaraman saying that he had been instructed to go to Malaysia and that Miss Priya will go along."

Durai hung up the phone, saved the document he had been composing and sat back, reflecting. The case he was working on involved a former MLA, and Durai was frustrated at how justice was so easily perverted by politics and big business. He was not an idealist; he had a sufficiently healthy dose of cynicism and knew that beyond a certain point of trying to remain professional he had to defer to political interests and the dictates of higher authorities. And yet, the roadblocks he was encountering in this particular case were annoying him to the point of wanting to quit altogether.

His mind drifted away from work as he recalled what the police detective had just told him. It had been more than six months since the engagement had been called off. He missed Priya deeply. He often dreamed of reconciling with her. He had spent many sleepless nights lusting for her. Separation was becoming an unbearable agony.

Their icy relationship had actually thawed somewhat. Priya had indirectly engaged him in conversation at the restaurant two weeks ago. When Indhu asked him a question about crime and punishment, Priya had vented her frustration about Abhirami to him. Sure, she had avoided eye contact but she had also not remonstrated when he settled the restaurant bill and had in fact thanked him, albeit tersely.

On impulse, Durai picked up the phone and dialed Charu's cell phone number, which was on roaming mode. He respected and liked Charu and he knew the feeling was mutual and that he could therefore have a personal conversation with her. In fact, this was a conversation he had long wanted to have with Charu. But, being a traditional Indian man, he had never been able to bring himself to speak to her about the matter in person. Over the phone, however, he was less inhibited, and he was able to have a lengthy conversation with her, which ended with Charu joking that she would never forgive him if he failed to invite her to his wedding. Durai had a look of contentment on his face when he hung up. He would now have to approach JC to get approval for his plan.

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It was Priya's first overseas trip and she was thrilled at Charu's suggestion that she take a few days off and tour Malaysia. She had reported at Charu's house in Kuala Lumpur the day after her arrival and put in two days of hard work. Charu was so impressed with the progress she had made over just two days that she instructed her Malaysian secretary to book Priya on a tour to the southern town of Malacca on the third day.

Priya settled comfortably into one of the seats at the back of the plush tour bus and studied her fellow passengers. There were Caucasians, Japanese, Arabs and a noticeably large number of people of Indian origin. Two of the Indians, both women, were sitting together just across from where she sat, and Priya could tell that they were Singaporean from their strange English accent and lingo – every other word had the suffix "lah" and unintelligible words like "alamak" were bandied about liberally. She later learnt that their names were Bonnie Heur and Jiggly Curie Puff. Another Indian sat nearer the driver's end of the bus. He looked strangely familiar although she could only see him in profile. He was tall and well built, and wore a rust-brown coloured denim shirt and sunshades.

"Selamat datang ke Malaysia, welcome to Malaysia. I am Caryn Barber, your friendly tour-guide," the lady at the head of the bus announced in a husky voice. "Shrug off your morning lethargy for I am here to take you on a trip that you'll never forget," the guide, also of Indian origin, enthused.

Soon, the bus took off from the Impiana Hotel and snaked its way through the dense streets of KL city towards the North-South highway. The iconic twin towers of the Petronas building gradually faded away into the distance as the bus merged into the expressway. Within minutes, the landscape changed from the concrete architecture of KL to a more scenic one of lush oil palm and rubber plantations.

Priya took a good look at her tour guide. Caryn was wearing a short skirt that did ample justice to her long legs. A mop of orange-streaked hair framed her well-crafted face. Although she tried to acknowledge all her passengers, her eyes were trained for the most part on the man in the rust-brown shirt. Whenever he looked up at her, she flashed a toothy smile. At one point, he asked her a question and Caryn leaned over readily to speak to him, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. From where she sat, Priya could catch a generous display of cleavage beneath the woman's largely unbuttoned blouse.

An hour later, the bus pulled up at a sleepy rest stop, where passengers were allowed a 10-minute break. The rest stop was in the middle of nowhere, and, except for the vast verdant fields surrounding them and an uninspiring building that contained public conveniences, there was nothing worth seeing. But Priya felt the need for a stretch and headed towards the back door. "Durai!" She gasped and instinctively broke into a half-smile. The man in the rust-brown shirt had headed for the back door around the same time and looked equally surprised. "Priya, fancy meeting you here. In Malaysia, of all places! What are you doing here," Durai asked with a broad grin.

"Charu Madam wanted me to do some work for her and I arrived three days ago. It was she who suggested I take a break in Malacca. And, what are you doing here?"

"I was stressed out at work and felt the need for a vacation. So here I am," Durai was economical with the truth. He considered himself abundantly fortunate for being able to have a conversation with Priya. When he was writing out a cheque to the travel agency back in Chennai, he was half resigned to the prospect that Priya might not even acknowledge him when he met her and that the entire trip might turn out to be an exercise in futility. But her half-smile, as well as this conversation, was a promising beginning, he thought. He attributed Priya's willingness to talk to the attractiveness of the familiar when one is thrown into unfamiliar circumstances. Of all the persons on the tour bus, he was the only one she knew. Indeed, he was probably the only other person she knew in all of Malaysia apart from Charu.

"Guys, we're waiting for you both to get off the bus." Priya and Durai were blocking the doorway of the bus and an impatient passenger behind them was nudging them to alight. "We'd better get off," said Priya and rushed down the steps. In her haste she tripped but Durai caught her quickly and helped her to her feet. Priya's face turned red with embarrassment. She allowed Durai to help her off the bus and remained locked in his arms for a few seconds before becoming conscious of their unintended intimacy.

As Priya mumbled a thanks and tore away from Durai's grip, one of the Arab passengers on the bus rushed up to her, put his arm gently around her shoulder and ushered her away from the bus. "Are you OK? Allow me to help," he insisted.

"I'm OK, I'm OK," Priya assured him, embarrassed by the attention.

"Dainty ladies like you shouldn't be walking around unaccompanied," said the man with a glint in his mesmerizing deep-blue eyes. Priya blushed as she noticed his intense gaze. "I am Sheikh Asad and I am from Dubai," he said with a distinct American twang, evidently the product of foreign schooling.

Priya turned around and noticed that Durai was glaring at Asad and herself, his brows furrowed, as usual. Her heart was fluttering with excitement. She had never expected to see Durai in Malaysia. Although she hadn't forgiven him for his poor judgment on the day of their intended engagement, she was well aware that he regretted what he had done. Deep down, she still loved him but she wanted him to prove that he loved her above all else and that he would never be insensitive towards her feelings again.

"Are you from India?" Asad interrupted her thoughts.

"Yes, my name is Priya," she replied.

"Preeyar! What a beautiful name. Just like the lady herself," remarked Asad. "What are you doing in Malaysia?"

"My boss from India wanted me to come over for a few days to do some work for her. I am her secretary."

"What a boss! She drags you out all the way from India just to do work for her. You should come to Dubai. My dad runs several businesses and you can work for us. Short hours, huge pay, lots of benefits. And lots of admirers," he said with a wink.

As Durai continued to stare at them furiously, Priya replied loudly, "That's a very attractive proposition. I shall seriously consider it." She chatted with Asad until Caryn summoned the passengers to re-board the bus.

Back on the bus, Priya returned to her seat at the rear. Durai grabbed his luggage and moved to the back of the bus to join her. But he was preempted by Asad, who slipped into the seat next to Priya, leaving Durai embarrassed.

"Come sit with us," Jiggly gestured to Durai to join Bonnie and herself. Durai reluctantly took a seat facing the two Singaporeans. From where he sat, he could see Priya and Asad on the other side of the aisle. He fumed as he noticed Asad practically falling all over Priya while chatting with her. He was straining himself to hear their conversation even as he tried to politely hold a conversation of his own with Bonnie and Jiggly.

Meanwhile, Asad droned on in his annoying American drawl, "You know, I am simply living off dad's wealth. I don't have to work at all. As a hobby, I do daily Internet summaries of a Tamil serial on Sun TV known as "Anandham". The summaries are getting to bore me and it would be a welcome change to have someone like you in Dubai. … blah, blah, blah." But Priya's attentions were focused elsewhere. She was trying to listen to the animated conversation that Durai was having with the two women he was sitting with.

"Are you single, married, divorced, widowed, engaged or what?" asked Jiggly, who looked barely 20. Turning around and winking at Priya, Durai replied after a moment's hesitation, "I'm single."

"Oh, single and available like me. Cool!" cooed Bonnie. Durai evaded the suggestion of availability but continued to grin at Priya.

"Hey, Durai. We drove to KL from Singapore. It took us only 4 hours. We have ample space in my car if you want to join us and spend some time in Singapore. And, by the way, I have a large house with three spare rooms, which I've just renovated, and you're most welcome to stay with me."

Priya was aghast at Bonnie's audacious invitation. This doesn't sound like an invitation, she thought to herself. It's more like a proposition. A totally indecent one. B****!!! Priya was even more shocked when Durai smiled sheepishly and replied that he'd love to visit Singapore and would seriously consider Bonnie's invitation. How dare he, Priya thought to herself. I'll do a Lorena Bobbitt if he even dreams of going to stay with her!

An hour and a half later, Caryn chirpily announced that they had reached the outskirts of Malacca. "We're visiting a historical city, an extraordinary empire that rose and fell, a city that has gone through Portuguese, Dutch and English hands …"

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Before beginning their tour of Malacca, the passengers first checked into the Renaissance Hotel at the rather seedy Jalan Bendahara. In stark contrast to the tumbledown buildings surrounding it, the hotel was elegant, combining old world charm and modern luxuries. Priya looked out of her room window and was struck by the breathtaking view of the Malacca Straits. She put away her bags, quickly surveyed the rest of her room and then rushed out to join the tour group. As she locked her room and turned towards the lift, she ran straight into Durai, who was locking the door of the room next to hers. They froze for a few seconds as their eyes met longingly. Durai felt hot under the collar as he noticed Priya's slightly parted lips. Priya soon became conscious of Durai's gaze and cast her eyes to the floor.

"We should hurry or we may be left behind," said Durai. "Yes, let's go," replied Priya, her face flushed with embarrassment. They got into the lift together and found themselves all alone, each standing uneasily at the two extreme ends of the lift. Durai watched the indicator intently as the lift began its slow descent from the 12th floor. Every second that he stood close to Priya and yet unable to hold her in his arms was excrutiating . Priya, on the other hand, was staring at the lift floor, her toes curled up tightly in nervousness.

Soon they joined the rest of the group and began the city tour after a quick lunch. The group was taken to the foot of St. Paul's Hill, which gave them a panoramic view of the Malacca Straits and the old town. Next, they headed for the famous 16th century Portuguese fort, A'Famosa. Then it was a stroll along "Antique Row" at Jonker Street. Asad trailed Priya most of the time, often getting on her nerves, but she was too polite to show her irritation.

The last stop for the day was Air Keroh, where they were to ride the brightly-coloured bullock carts that were the main attraction of the area. The tourists were told to board two per cart. Most of them, particularly Asad, had evidently not seen bullock carts before and scrambled to board them. Priya and Durai, who were not unfamiliar with bullock carts where they came from, found themselves the last two to board. Priya demurred at first. "Go on. The ride's already been paid for," urged Caryn. Durai helped Priya up the cart and got in with her.

The ride was an exceptionally rough one and kept flinging Priya against Durai. She was embarrassed and found herself apologizing several times. After the third time, Durai gently placed his arm around her to steady her. Priya did not remonstrate. Instead, her heart began to race with excitement at the proximity to Durai. Suddenly, she felt Durai's fingers caressing her hair. She quickly broke loose from his grip and looked away from him. They continued riding in silence until the cart came to a halt 25 minutes later.

After a brief rest at the hotel, they were driven to a quaint old restaurant that served the food of a small community known as the peranakan or baba/nonya. These were the descendants of the early Chinese immigrants to Southeast Asia who adapted Malay customs and brought about a unique fusion culture. Asad plonked himself quickly next to Priya, much to Durai's chagrin. But Durai did not have to fret over a lack of attention for long as Bonnie, Jiggly and Caryn sat around him and fussed over him, to Priya's annoyance.

Over aromatic foods with strange-sounding names like belachan and kangkong, Priya and Durai got introduced to the other passengers on the bus. They included Kamini Kutty, a high-powered banker from India, twins Niri and Giri (Niri was from the US while Giri, who had relocated from Dubai to Chennai earlier this year, had apparently gone incommunicado some weeks ago and just recently resurfaced in Malaysia), actor Shahrukh Khan's publicity manager in the US, Patricia Raj, Dee Dee Meyer, a fading television star from the US, Roger Poo, the owner of a successful garbage collection business in the US, his business partner from Beijing Sai Lok,* Ray Whitesri, a real-estate business owner based in Australia, Cyrial Ciller, sister of the former Turkish prime minister Tansu Ciller, and from Shanghai, sisters Ah Tina and Ah Naa, both housewives. Ah Tina was not the oldest passenger on the bus but she had a maternal quality about her and was solicitious towards her fellow pasengers.

* sai is the Chinese equivalent of poo (no, not poo as in flower but poo as in a four-letter English slang word beginning with s)

[TO BE CONTINUED]

Note: I have no desire to cause offence to anyone; this story was written entirely for entertainment purposes. I would be happy to remove parts considered offensive to anyone. Just send me a private message if you have such comments (do not post below).

A FOREIGN AFFAIR

Part I ....................... [TO BE CONTINUED]

Excited to see your A Foreign Affair storyline,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, thrilled to see ur spl. details to be continued in the 2nd part tomorrow.

Cheers.

i loved this story bonheur! i can't wait for the 2nd part. jiggly currie puff who looked barely 20? sounds familiar.. 🤣

Bonhuer, I thoroughly enjoyed your story. It was very enlightening. Await the continuation with anticipation.

Thank you.

Bonheur, waiting for the next episode of your fiction. It is just too good. I propose that CR get thrown out of the serial and you become the story writer instead.

A FOREIGN AFFAIR -- PART II

This story is dedicated to two very special people in the Anandham Forum -- Dasa and Atina. Thanks, both of you, for all your hard work. I hope you will all enjoy the rest of the story.

Priya had just had a shower and changed into her night clothes when she heard a loud cackle from the next room. It was Bonnie's voice. Priya felt blood rushing up her head. What was the woman doing in Durai's room at this time of night, she wondered. Then she heard more voices and she strained herself to make out their owners. She could tell that one of the voices was that of Jiggly's. Another was muffled but she could make out that it was Caryn's voice. Durai's voice was barely audible. Priya could not bring herself to lie in bed oblivious to what three women were doing in the room of the man she loved and decided to drag a chair close to the wall separating her room from Durai's. She sat there as the laughing and loud chattering carried on through the night. At times she would doze off, then she would be jolted out of sleep by a loud shriek or some other sound emanating from Durai's room.

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The next morning, Durai barely looked in the direction of Priya, remaining hidden instead behind the anonymity of his sunshades most of the time. But at one point, when he removed his glasses to read an inscription in a museum, the physical manifestations of sleep deprivation were amply on display around his eyes.

Caryn shepherded the group to more places on the tourist trail but soon interest in the sights and sounds of Malacca petered out as the scorching heat began to sap everyone of their energy stores. Some asked for an early end to the afternoon tour and Caryn obliged.

Durai was thankful for the opportunity to catch up on the sleep he had missed the night before. He had found it hard to shoo away three women who were intent on having fun. Thankfully, they had dragged themselves back to their rooms once they had managed to empty his bar fridge of all its alcoholic content. After an hour's snooze, he showered, changed and went down in search of the rest of the group. Priya was sitting in the lobby with a glum fellow tourist.

"Hi Priya," Durai greeted her warmly and settled into the couch next to hers.

"Hi. You were having a ball in your room last night with three young women," Priya responded. Durai sensed a strong undercurrent of jealousy in her comment and teased her. "It could have been four women if you had joined us." As Priya glared at him, he quickly changed the subject. "Would you like to go to the light and sound show?" Priya hesitated for a moment. The almost incessant laughter and screams from the three women the night before were still reverberating in her mind. But, at the same time, she began to fear that she might have played too hard to get. She thought she should yield a little lest her man slip away altogether from her grip. "Yes," she replied.

They caught a taxi and headed out to Padang Pahlawan, where the history of Malacca was showcased through narrative, dialogue, music, sound and lighting effects. As the sun set and a kaleidoscope of colours flashed before them, Durai edged himself closer to Priya. Slowly, he slipped his right hand onto Priya's left and caressed it gently, all the time looking ahead at the sights in front of them. Priya's hand was cold and unresponsive at first. Moments later he began to sense her trembling fingers seeking his own. He responded by giving her a gentle squeeze.

Just then, Asad appeared and clumsily inched his way between the crowds to get to where Priya and Durai were seated. Priya quickly withdrew her hand from Durai's grip just before Asad managed to wedge himself between the two of them. Durai scowled as Asad leaned against Priya and kept whispering comments about the show into her ear.

When the show ended, Asad suggested dinner and they hailed a taxi to get to a restaurant in Portuguese Square that Asad had heard about. Durai opened the taxi door for Priya. When she had glided in and seated herself comfortably, he closed the door gently and walked over to the other side of the taxi only to catch Asad slipping in next to Priya. He held on to the door for a few seconds, fuming at the smirk on Asad's face. Then he slammed the door shut and moved over to the front passenger's seat and rode glumly throughout the trip. Later, Asad insisted on picking up the dinner tab, obviously to flaunt his wealth in an effort to impress Priya. But Durai saw the food and restaurant as proxies for a looming competitor in love and ungraciously panned both.

It was around 10.00 pm when they returned to their hotel. Caryn, who was lounging in the lobby with a few of the other tourists, suggested that they gather at the hotel bar for drinks and to listen to a jazz quartet. As the group gathered at the bar, Durai found himself surrounded by Bonnie, Jiggly and Caryn, who was dressed in a seductive black number with a plunging neckline. Meanwhile, Asad ushered Priya to a corner seat and placed an arm around her, which she quickly shrugged off. Just then, the band struck up a slow number and several guests began dancing on a makeshift dance floor. Asad dragged a reluctant Priya to the dance floor. He placed one arm around her waist, grabbed her right hand and tried to get Priya to move but she wouldn't budge.

"Come on, Priya; shake off your inhibitions and let's have some fun," laughed Asad.

"Stop it, Asad, please," said Priya, trying to wriggle out of his grip. "I don't like it. … I don't dance. …I am not comfortable …"

Suddenly, Priya felt someone from behind her nudging off Asad's hand from her waist. She turned around and found herself in Durai's grip. He had one arm tightly around her waist and placed the other arm around her shoulder. "No, Durai. Please don't. I am shy," Priya remonstrated. But Durai tightened his grip, forcing her to cave in and place both her arms around Durai. She smiled shyly and buried her face against his chest. They began swaying in time to the music. Asad glared at the couple for a few seconds, arms akimbo. Then, he angrily stormed out of the bar.

Priya felt a chill up her spine as Durai began nuzzling against her nape. "Not here, Durai," she moaned. Soon she felt Durai's hot breath as he began grazing against her cheek and searching for her lips. She quickly broke loose from him but Durai was not about to let go so easily after having waited more than six months. He grabbed her by the hand and led her away from the bar. As they headed out the door, the rest of the tour group cheered loudly, causing Priya to turn red with embarrassment.

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At 9.20 the next morning, Caryn rushed up the bus, flustered. She did a headcount of her passengers and noticed that she was short of two passengers. "Who else is missing?" she asked. "I know Durai is one of them. I haven't been able to get hold of him in his room and I have been calling since 7.30 this morning." She began frantically making phone calls. "Caryn, try calling him in Priya's room," suggested Bonnie with an impish smile.

Just as Caryn started calling Priya's room, the couple rushed out of the hotel together. As they panted and boarded the bus, the passengers clapped heartily, causing Priya to blush and Durai to flash his famous sheepish smile. Priya had wrapped her neck with her churidar, unlike her usual style of slinging it on her left shoulder. Durai's neck, however, had telltale love bites. As the two of them sneaked to the back of the bus and huddled together, Ah Tina sprang to action.

"Dear fellow passengers," she began in her Shanghai accent. [Those of you who are old enough may recall a character called Su Li in the 1980s British serial "Mind your language". Try to imagine her accent as you read the following lines by Ah Tina.] "When I was living in Blunei some years ago, I used to lead about the so-called khalwat or "close ploximity" Muslim laws in Malaysia. These days, they have an incleasingly enthusiastic religious police that even targets unmallied non-Muslim couples. I therefore suggest that we get Mr Dulai and Miss Pliya mallied light away. Besides, I personally don't think it is molally ploper for them to lemain unmallied the way they are behaving."

Durai looked at Priya, who blushed and hid her face in his chest.

"What say the other passengers?" asked Caryn.

"I support Ah Tina's suggestion, lah!" shouted Bonnie. The other passengers chimed with her.

"Calyn, can we allange for the wedding light away? I mean, like now!" asked Ah Tina.

"Let me see," said Caryn. "There is the Sri Poyyatha Vinayagar Moorthi temple here. I know the temper pliest well. Sorry, I mean the temple priest. But he can be a bit of a pain and may be reluctant to conduct a wedding without proper notice, especially as Priya and Durai's parents and relatives are not here to witness the wedding."

"Calyn, you don't wolly. We are all their lelatives now. And, my sister Ah Naa here, she have a black belt in kalate. She can intimidate the pliest into conducting the wedding."

"Good. And if you could stop by a sports shop on the way to the temple, we could also pick up some hockey sticks and cricket bats to knock further sense into the priest," suggested Jiggly.

"Good thinking, Jigg," said Bon. Turning to Caryn, she asked, "By the way, what's the priest's name?

"C. Ravie. Cheyar Ravie," replied Caryn.

ENDS

Bonhuer, that was really good. The Ah Tina bit about Sue Lin of "Mind your language" was really funny (It was one of my fav. shows).

Good Job!

Pat

oh Bon - you really out done yourself. Here, I was thinking the Director's cut was the best. And then comes the story -esp 2nd part. super. CR for priest is hilarious. keep up the good work.

wow! the 2nd part is even better than the 1st one. the ending was hilarious!😆 CR as the priest? too good!👏👏👏