He at last took his hand from her neck and bent to kiss her cheek. “Sweet,” he said, “Wait here a minute. Don’t move.”
She heard him in the bathroom. He quickly returned and she felt his fingers spread cold cream onto her burning bottom and gently rub it in. Relief flooded through her. He closed the jar and set it on the bed. What would he do now? she wondered.
“Your bottom’s all pink,” he said. “Very pretty. Let’s have a look at you.”
She made no resistance as he pulled her panties right down and off. Then he picked her up by the hips and set her on all fours on the bed. She knew he was looking at her. “Very, very beautiful,” he said at last. “You really have the nicest bottom I’ve seen in a long time.”
Despite her position, she was pleased. She wanted to please him more than all the others, more than the twins, or Ranji, and especially she wanted to please him more than Darti.
His hands gently stroked and kneaded her injured bottom, holding her cheeks and opening her. Then she felt him pressing against her and to her surprise he slipped in easily. She was wet and ready for him. He gripped her hips and thrust firmly in and out of her. An orgasm started to build deep inside her. She lowered her head to the bedspread and gave herself up to him. It felt delicious.
Afterwards he stripped the rest of her clothes off and laid her on her tummy. He lay contentedly beside her.
“I don’t mind if you make love to Darti,” she said. “Really I don’t.”
“Don’t be silly. This is your house and all the sex here belongs to you. And besides, the way you’ve been making love recently, who’d want any extra? I wouldn’t make love to Darti unless you pick her up and sit her on my cock.”
She wriggled closer to him. “Now there’s a thought,” she said. “I bet you’d like that.”
“Only if you liked it too. Now, stay here. I’m just going to get a cuff.”
“Oh no, Tim! Not now. Not here.”
“Of course here and now. You’ve been very naughty. You can’t expect to be that naughty and get away with only some pats and some delightful orgasms.”
“But Darti’s coming back…”
He came back with a cuff and short chain. She recognised it from the island. He quickly wrapped it around her ankle and fastened her to the corner of the bed. “There we are. Call out when you need to get up. I’m going for a shower.”
Chapter 28
She was dozing when Hangchi brought Darti home. She could hear her excited voice telling Tim what they had done all day. Moments later Darti was at her door with a smile on her face. Sherry did not want to be looked at but had no way to hide her nakedness.
“Oh, oh. Sherry bad girl,” Darti said with a smile and held up the key. “Mmmh. Sherry very pretty girl also.” She paused to examine Sherry and reached out to brush her breast. Sherry cringed in embarrassment. “Very pretty, very sexy. Now we go for chai. Quick mandi and you come down, OK?” and she opened the cuff.
Sherry came downstairs fresh and clean. Her bottom felt warm and tingling, and too sensitive for panties. Naked, her skirt brushed it as she moved. The sensation worried her. She was not happy about her reaction to Tim’s spanking, or her enjoyment of his vigorous lovemaking afterwards. She pushed the thoughts aside for the moment; She could worry about them later. Now she should be a proper hostess.
Tim had brought beer to the table and Hangchi was describing something with great animation. He looked up and welcomed Sherry. “I was just telling Tim about Darti and the birds. I took her to the JurongBirdPark. I thought we could chat as we walked around. She liked it. She knows all the local birds.”
Darti sat with her glass of beer, smiling at Hangchi’s tale. “Not all, Hangchi.”
“Yes—all. That is not so surprising, but she can talk to them! Yes, believe it or not. We went from cage to cage and she talked to them. She talked and they came closer and talked back. Really, there was not a doubt about it. She’d chirp and whistle and they’d talk back.”
“What were they saying, Darti?” asked Tim.
“Oh, not happy. Some very sad. They like to fly, to fly everywhere.”
Hangchi continued. “Then we went into the big cage, and the birds went crazy. They all came to talk at once, and most of them wanted to sit on her. Really! She looked liked a statue, all covered in birds, and more noisy than you could imagine. It was embarrassing after a while. Everyone wanted to watch and take photographs. There was a Japanese party there and all of them had to stand with Darti, two at a time, and get their pictures taken. They were queuing up to give me their cameras. I should have charged them a dollar a time. I’d be rich. She didn’t talk to the penguins, though. Said they wouldn’t understand her language, and they were too busy swimming anyway. I want to take her to the zoo this weekend. That should be interesting.”
“Darti’s a very talented lady, you know. Did she tell you anything new?”
“Well, you know, we were so busy talking and looking at Singapore, we never did have that chat. Perhaps at the weekend, if Darti doesn’t mind, that is.”
“I like,” said Darti with a gentle smile. She seemed to enjoy Hangchi’s enthusiasm.
“Do you like Singapore, Darti?” asked Sherry.
“Very good! I like too much. So big, so much car, so much people…”
“There’s lots to see, isn’t there Hangchi?”
“Oh, heaps and heaps of things. I’m going to enjoy showing her around. You can come too, Sherry. I suppose Tim will have to work next week, but I can always put my time down to background interrogation or something. Or I can even take the odd day off. I have enough owing and I never use them. That’s what I’ll do, and we can go out and have fun.” His pager beeped, and sent him fumbling for his belt by reflex. He held up the little unit to read the number. Tim waved him to the phone.
Hangchi barked into the phone in Chinese and then listened. The others could read from his face that he was hearing something interesting. He barked a couple of questions and then said “OK, OK, twenty minutes” and put the phone down.
“Damn, damn, damn!” He looked quite upset. “It always happens when I’m busy enjoying myself. There’s been an explosion at the Irishman’s place in Telok Blangah. It’s probably nothing, but I’d better go and see for myself.”
“I come, I come,” said Darti, getting to her feet.
“No. Not possible, well, not really, I suppose. I’m driving my own car, and I could always say we were still talking. Why not? Do you mind, Tim?”
“Me? Of course not. Darti can take care of herself. It’ll be interesting for her to see Singapore at night.” He looked in the mug of pens by the telephone for a spare key. “Does she have a handbag?” he asked Sherry.
“I’ll get one. And some money, just in case.”
Hangchi brought her back just as Tim and Sherry were about to turn in for the night. His car pulled up outside and Tim went to chat. Darti ran inside to tell Sherry what she had been doing.
“You know,” said Hangchi tentatively, “I think she’s a very unusual woman. I’ve never met anyone like her. So simple, uneducated, but very clever.”
“Yes, that’d be Darti. There’s a lot more to her than meets the eye.”
“You know what she did? I stopped the car at the curb near where the explosion had been. You know how Telok Blangah units are set back from the road with workspace and parking in front? Well, the explosion had been against the building. It hadn’t done a lot of damage, just broken glass and a roller door blown in. So I’m standing there with the detectives, trying to sort out what happened, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Darti standing by the car and waving. Well, the detectives were just scratching their heads and looking at the mess, so I went over to her. She said ‘Two Indonesian men on motorbike. They drive up, drop a bag at the door and drive away, and they go that way.’ She was pointing to a little unofficial path going through a gap in the fence on the opposite side of the road. You know the sort of thing. Every car park has t
hem. Little paths along the storm drains so pedestrians can get from place to place directly without following the roads.
“I didn’t know what to think, but I remembered the birds, and anyway, it seemed like a reasonable scenario. So I called a couple of policemen over and we started to follow the path. Darti came too—I didn’t think to stop her. One of the policemen brought a torch and we found motorbike tracks, not that that would prove anything. Anyway, after about a hundred metres or so, we came to a storm drain and there’s a plank laid across it. It went straight into another car park. The policeman started to go across the drain on the plank but Darti called him back and said that the motorbike didn’t cross the bridge. Well, that’s obvious when you think about it. The plank would probably break, and it was too narrow anyway. So we looked around and, sure enough, there’s a small Honda motorbike lying on its side in the bushes. You could have knocked me over with a feather, and the police started to give her some very suspicious looks, but never mind, we’ve left a guard on the site and they’ll have a good look around in daylight. They’ve already started looking for anyone who could have seen two Indonesians cross that bridge and leave.
“Tim, what do you think? Should I trust her? Do you think she could be right?”
“Ah well. Now you’re asking. I don’t know. Perhaps you shouldn’t bet your life on her being right, but she is pretty good, you know. She certainly knew those terrorists were coming to get her before they arrived. And she got a message to Captain Rais in time for him to get there too, and there’s no telephones out there.” Tim smiled at his uncertainty. “Look, I’d certainly listen to what she says. It’s sensible, isn’t it? I guess you should still look at other possibilities as well, but she’s done pretty well so far, from the sound of it.”
“Darti’s strange, isn’t she?” Sherry was lying in bed at Tim’s side. “I thought she was just a peasant girl when she came. You know, not stupid but simple. No education. Can she read?”
“I don’t know. I don’t recall any books in her house, or newspapers. No, she had some newspaper, but that doesn’t mean much. She used to wrap her herbs in newspaper when she sold them. No one has any call for newspapers in a place like that anyway. I think most of the boys go to school and learn to read, so they can study the Koran, but I don’t know about the girls.”
“Well, she doesn’t seem very Islamic to me, and if she let you into her bed…”
“Ah, that just shows that Indonesia is different. Like England fifty years ago perhaps. Any girl who makes love without marriage is frowned on, but it happens all the same. And when they do, they’re not ashamed of themselves. Once their clothes are off, they just get on with enjoying themselves, and they’re much better at it than most English girls.”
Sherry dug him in the ribs with her elbow. “Pig! Is that all the thanks I get for my efforts?”
Tim chuckled and put his arm around her shoulders. “Not you. I said most English girls. You’re getting better and better each time you do it, and don’t say it’s an effort and make out you’re doing it just for me. You enjoy it just as much as I do. Probably more. You even enjoyed me spanking your bottom this afternoon.”
“No I didn’t! It hurt.”
“Of course it hurt. That’s what happens when you’re naughty, but you were very wet afterwards. I just slipped in so easily, like a hot knife through butter.”
“Stop it!” and she poked him again. “You’re embarrassing me. I don’t know why that happened. It wasn’t because I enjoyed being smacked.”
“Whatever you say, but I’m glad you enjoyed it in the end. Your bottom was hot and rosy pink. Mmmh – it makes me feel good just thinking about it.”
Sherry slid her hand from his chest down to his sex. The thought of her pink bottom had a definite effect on him. She held his shaft and let it harden in her hand.
“Tell me about Darti. What does she look like without her clothes?”
“Oh, very nice. Of course. Mmmh, let me see. She’s small, like the twins I suppose, but she’s older. I think her tits are softer and she’s got a little tummy. No figure at all really. Not like my hot, juicy wife.” He gave her a squeeze and she squeezed his cock as a thank you for the compliment. “She’s got big nipples. Small breasts, but big, dark nipples, almost black, and they stick out naturally, but even more if she’s cold. She’s had children. I don’t know how many or where they are.”
“And what does she look like down there?” She was stroking him gently and slowly.
“Her pussy? Small, of course, because she’s small. There’s not much hair. She doesn’t shave or anything; I think she just doesn’t have much naturally. Her lips are small too, her outer lips I mean, and that lets her inner lips stick right out. They’re not small at all. Very black, but pink inside. She’s small and tight inside too. You’d never think she could take more than a finger, but it all goes in and she really likes it.”
“Sounds as if you studied it very carefully,” said Sherry dryly, but she did not stop her playing.
“Oh yes,” he agreed cheerfully, “Inside and out.”
“Pig! I don’t know what I’m doing, lying in bed discussing another woman’s pussy with you.”
He kissed her forehead. “You’re wonderful. Darti’s pussy is nice, but I like yours much better. It’s so tasty, and so rewarding.”
“After this afternoon, I’m not sure I should reward you anymore.”
He kissed her again. “Well, up to you, of course. I mean, if you didn’t enjoy it…”
Chapter 29
Tim enjoyed the luxury of owning a car in Singapore. With private car ownership taxed almost out of existence by a caring Government, the possession of a licence to buy a car was something treasured like a family heirloom. Transient foreigners, except for the obscenely rich, just gritted their teeth and used public transport, but businesses were a different matter. Krumbeins had leased a car for Tim to travel back and forth to Jurong every day. Of course, he resented commuting and regular hours but after all, it would only be for a few months and then he could go back to operations.
For the moment, he was concentrating on getting bulk cement silos installed in a converted oil rig supply boat at the Jurong Marine Base. Krumbeins were going to try delivering bulk cement straight to the rigs and platforms in the JavaSea, once Tim had got the silos and compressors hooked up and working. The dockyard hands had finished most of the heavy work of piercing the deck and dropping the pressure silos into place. Now they were busying painting and finishing. Tim and a small Krumbeins crew were installing the rat’s nest of valves and pipes and the large low-pressure compressors that would move the cement around and blow it up to the rig tanks. It was noisy and frustrating work, below decks in temporary lighting, manoeuvering awkward lengths of pipe in confined spaces. No matter how hard the fans were run, the air was hot and oppressive and every day Tim welcomed five o’clock and the chance to relax for half an hour as he drove home in air-conditioned comfort.
The girls waited for him. They had been to yoga again and wanted to tell him how much Darti had enjoyed it. She seemed to have taken to it like a native Indian and particularly enjoyed the comfortable friendship of the ashram. Lunch with Ranji and the girls suited her very well. Tim wondered if she admired Papi Bombar quite as much as the other students, but if she had doubts, she did not show them.
“Ranji is taking us to Bugis Street tonight,” announced Sherry. “We’re going to pick her up on the corner of Serangoon Road at eight thirty, so you’ve got plenty of time to get cleaned up and relax.”
“Eight thirty? But I’m hungry, and I’ve got to be at work tomorrow, don’t forget.”
“Never mind. There’s no point being early, the fun doesn’t start until eleven. I’ll make you a sandwich, but no more or you won’t enjoy yourself.”
Later, as he worked his way over to Bukit Timah Road, it occurred to Tim that having two women in the house was not simple. Sherry and Darti had formed an unlikely partnership. They looked d
ifferent. Tall, short; blonde, dark; European and Asian, and everything in their education and background should have set them apart. Some sort of sistership had grown up between them and they were rarely separated. True, Hangchi had taken to coming around and whisking Darti off for evenings around Singapore, but for the rest they lived together like sisters.
They made plans that filled Tim’s spare time. With demands from the girls and ideas from Hangchi, he started to see more and more of the island nation, and to grow closer to its ramshackle Chinese soul. He learnt more of its short history and began to feel wistful for the time, not so long ago, when Chinese and European influences were more nearly equal. A time when everyone had his place and rubber plantations grew on Orchard Road.
Ranji was waiting at the bus stop. They snapped her up and Tim drove the chattering car on to find a parking space near enough to Bugis Street.
Bugis Street was an anomaly in Puritan Singapore, an unlikely honey pot of naughtiness. It looked normal enough, and during the day it was in fact a normal side street, bustling with city life, all shops and food stalls. Some time during the evening, as some shops closed, the food stalls expanded and set out more tacky tables and chairs. People started to drift in, ordering food and beer, and the whole street became more crowded, more raucous, everyone waiting for the fun to start.
They picked their way through the gathering crowd and caught a stallholder bringing out another table. They commandeered it and waited for him to return with the chairs. They sat and looked around them as they waited for their drinks to arrive. The place looked old and run down. Stuccoed shop houses with heavy piers supporting their upper floors over the narrow pavement. Dirty pastel colours, different for each shop, gave the street a sort of grubby charm.
To one side, not far from their table, stood the famous Bugis Street toilet. Somewhere, in the bowels of a city office, at some time in the late fifties, a budding town planner had laboured and brought forth an icon of modernism—a public toilet. God knows what arrangements people had made before this flash of enlightment, but now they had a public toilet. True, it did not fit in with Bugis Street architecture and ambiance. True, its linear godfather was Josef Stalin but, never mind, it was free, available and it worked. The locals accepted the dour, faceless roughcast block with machinegun ports in place of windows, set high up, just below its flat concrete roof. It is remarkable that such a miserable piece of municipal mindlessness later grew to be an internationally recognised artistic venue. Its concrete roof made the perfect al fresco stage to display dancing girls and the annual Queen of Bugis Street competition.
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