Neha Puntambekar - Grand Masti - Fun Never Ends

About the Author NEHA PUNTAMBEKAR was smitten by the written word in the first grade, while reading the school prescribed ‘Peter and Jane’ series, and it didn’t take long to realize she preferred fiction to reality, something that holds true even today. In the real world, Neha has dabbled with copywriting–she is partial to writing for radio, editing, social media management, travel and lifestyle features, and short fiction. She has been published in Mint Lounge, Hindustan Times, Indian Express, Elle India and more. After spending six years in Zagreb, Croatia, she has recently moved back to Mumbai, where she lives with her husband. Neha also collects bookmarks, and is working on her first novel. “GRAND MASTI – Fun Never Ends” is Neha Puntambekar’s debut book. Title Page Grand Masti Fun Never Ends Neha Puntambekar Meet The Boys Teacher’s Pet Part Time Jobs Balance Sheet My Friend, The Chemist The Pretty Village Belles A Great Idea Shaadi Barbaadi Weekend A Himalayan Retreat Hitting a Marital Pause The Price of a Wager The One that Got Away A Saturday Experiment Doctor, Doctor! Happy Anniversary Darling Reader Contest Story Copyright

Amar

USP	:	A doctor for the ladies
On my bedside table	:	The illustrated Kama Sutra
Favourite sport	:	Competitive cheerleading
Major Turn On	:	Nude lace
Lucky charm	:	An old condom, still in its retro packaging (the only remaining from a pack by my first girlfriend)
I Enjoy	:	An American Pie marathon, Melons (of every shape and size)
I Hate	:	Training bras
Parting Words	:	Show me where it hurts

Meet

USP	:	Goofy charm
On my bedside table	:	Veronica & Betty Comics, Sports Illustrated (Swimsuit Edition)
Favourite sport	:	Spin the bottle
Major turn on	:	Bossy Women, Handcuffs
Lucky charm	:	The cupid tattooed on my hip – he has since some vile, vile things going on down there
On a rainy day I enjoy	:	A round of strip poker
I Hate	:	Regular poker
Parting Words	:	How would you like to see a big surprise?

Prem

USP	:	Not-so-quiet desperation
On my bedside table	:	A lamp, but hidden behind a
false bottom	:	Playboy Classics
Favourite sport	:	Women’s Beach Volleyball
Major turn on	:	Everything
Lucky charm	:	The Number 34D
On a rainy day I enjoy	:	Watching Baywatch (only the running scenes)
I Hate	:	The non-running Baywatch scenes
Parting Words	:	I love happy endings

There was only one reason Prem attended all his Biology lectures and her name was Rose. She was the super sexy professor who had replaced that old fart Dhawan at the end of last term. Since then, this 8am lecture had become top priority.

Ms. Rose, as she insisted students refer to her, was stunning. Prem was sure she was pretty too, but it was hard to focus on her features when there was so much more to see. What he really liked about Ms. Rose was that she left very little to the imagination. She taught biology with a passion, and also believed in a full and proud display of her subject(s).

“Theory is all well and good,” she announced during her first class in that delicious husky voice, “but biology is about touch and feel,” to demonstrate, she ran her fingers across her arms before bracing them, thrusting her chest forward. This alone set the boys on a thin edge. “It is about experiencing and engaging the senses. All the senses!” She spoke in a drawl; each word intimate, and drawn out in leisure; each word designed to pull a layer of goose bumps across your arms, amongst other reactions. And true to her words, that’s what she continued to deliver week after week. Everything Ms. Rose offered was tight and bright and very upright.

And so boys like Prem couldn’t help but fall in love with biology – with every aspect of biology. It was but natural. This was the only class where Prem had a 100% attendance and was fully focused. No, he didn’t take notes; but he listened, watched and learned. Sometimes, he used his camera phone to capture important elements of the class; it was more effort than he put in any of his other classes combined.

Yes, Prem was very serious about his love for biology. This was the only class where you’d find Prem attentive and in the first row. With Amar and Meet flanking his side, he was often seen fighting off his competition on a weekly basis for this prime spot. The boys had lost friends, made enemies and had had to sacrifice a few potential conquests in the process, but the best views came at a price, everyone knew that.

Today, Ms. Rose was wearing an impossible black number: a tight black pencil skirt that clung for dear life to her voluptuous hips. It stopped just below her knees, and showed off those creamy legs of hers, all the way down to her red stilettos. Her blouse was black too, a wrap-around, gathered tightly and pulled into a modest bow to the side. It teased the class incessantly. Every boy in the room, and a few girls too, could think only of tugging at that bow. Tugs like that were known to unravel worlds. Would one pull be enough, or would it take two? Amar said two tugs; Meet’s money was on one. Prem didn’t care as long as it came undone.

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