QuaranTeam: Cauldron of Coal Ch. 5
This is part of an ongoing series starting
here
.
It is located in the QuaranTeam universe created by
CorruptingPower
and published with his permission.
As before, I'll mark
word-by-word-translations
of German terms by underlining them.
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Chapter 5
Samstag, 15. August 2020
Karl was flying, not like a bird or a plane, more like a comic book character. Softly he landed in a valley between two hills and let himself fall into the comfortable bed of grass and stared into the sky.
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"Comfortable?" asked Nurhayat. "You know, your head is a bit... heavy to sleep like that."
Karl lifted his face from the fleshy pillow that her breasts were providing and jerked upright into a sitting position. "I'm sorry, did I hurt you?"
"No, but it was getting a little hard to breathe," she answered, then added something in Turkish.
Before Karl could ask her what she said, Chris gulped down his promptly awoken Karlchen, then attempted to suck his life essence from him, while Nurhayat engaged him in a kiss, taking his breath away.
Cumming, Karl let himself fall back onto his back, breathing hard.
"Do you want a round, too?" Chris asked her partner in crime after her serum-induced orgasm ended.
"No, today I'm good," Nurhayat answered with a smile.
"I feel like I've been reduced to a sex toy," Karl groaned.
"No, you're our life raft," his women kissed him on the cheeks.
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"You're sure you don't need me here?" Karl asked, standing in front of his door, wearing his biking gear and checking he had masks on him.
"Nurhayat wants me to help her by bringing down more things from her flat, so she can sort out what to give away. We're fine," Chris answered. "Now go! Shoo!" She even made an appropriate hand gesture.
Karl rode his bike to his Schrauber and parked the machine just outside the workshop. When he stopped the engine, a wiry man with blond permanent waves, wearing an oily set of overalls and aviator sunglasses came out to greet him.
If you thought away
the mask, you'd expect teeth from a toothpaste commercial chewing gum, together with a hairy chest that would put David Hasselhoff to shame.
"Kalle! Wie isset," he was greeted as a customer.
"Gut! Und selbst?"
"Geht. Oil change?"
"Like always. I'll let you do your thing and just park myself here," Karl confirmed. Strolling away, he suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. "Atze? What is that?" he exclaimed, pointing.
"That, my friend, is one marvel of British engineering, that's still produced in India." The head-splitting grin was audible. "A Royal Enfield, complete with sidecar, and - converted to diesel.
Ignition key sticks
if you want to take her for a spin."
Karl didn't need to be told twice
. He took the shortest route to the Autobahn and enjoyed the freedom of not having to share the road with a lot of other vehicles. He cruised along the asphalt (imagine the soundtrack to be "Born to be wild"). After what only felt like a matter of seconds, he returned to find that the mechanic had already finished with his BMW.
"
Tell.
Diesel?" he asked,
grinning like a honey-cake horse
.
The mechanic shrugged. "
Knows the vulture
. This guy heard about someone doing this, and wanted to try for himself. Took a heavy-duty diesel from one of those vibratory plates and transplanted it into this machine. Then lost interest and parked it here."
"What does he want?" Karl was surprised to hear himself asking, and more surprised by the ridiculously low price. "
I believe I don't hear right
," he quipped, wiggling a finger in his ear.
The mechanic counted his points on his fingers: "As far as I understand it," one, "the Royal Enfield itself had a seized piston, so was only sold for scrap," two, "and the diesel engine was auctioned off due to bankruptcy." Three, he tapped on his chest. "The paint job I did myself to keep me occupied. Had some inspiration from that TV series where the English inspector solves crimes on this French island. And? You'll take her?"
They shook hands to seal the deal, and Karl rode off home, promising to return soon to get his new toy - once he had figured out logistics.
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Arriving back at the building, Karl stopped in front of the half-embedded tower housing the central staircase, the elevator and the front door. Looking up, he took in the open balconies that protruded left and right. He saw movement at the kitchen window on the other side of the sructure and waved. Chris waved back from there. Quickly he parked his BMW.
When he reached his floor, she joined him, pulled down her mask and gave him a peck on the cheek. Together they headed to the left side of the building, where they were greeted by Nurhayat.
While Karl peeled himself out of his biking gear, Chris explained to the other two: "I just had a talk with your neighbour Gianna. She noticed me hauling stuff down and... needed someone to vent to.
"Her family is in Italy; they went back there just before lockdown started and haven't been able to travel back yet. You know that ice cream parlour around the corner?" She got nods. "That's theirs. She drew the short straw for who would stay here - or rather I gather she volunteered, since she didn't want to meet a particular someone from that village of ice cream makers they all come from. She tried to occupy herself thinking up new recipes, but hasn't dared to
test
them, as she'd either have to throw the results away or fatten up on them, and didn't want to do either.
"Karl, Nurhayat, she's going crazy all on her own," Chris pleaded. "She misses the interactions with the customers or her family."
Reaching for a fresh set of masks, Karl said: "Then let's formally pay her a visit. Nurhayat, do you have anything ready we could..." He stopped himself when she fetched a platter from the kitchen and put it in his hands. "You're the best. Let me kiss you before we go."
Together they made their way to the other side of the building, and before they could ring or knock, the door opened and Gianna Maglieri, about as tall as Karl, with shoulder-lenght dark brown wavy hair and a prominent nose, pushed out first a folding table and then three folding chairs. Karl placed the table in front of the open kitchen window and then the chairs around it.
Before Karl sat down, he improvised a speech: "Hello. I feel like a bad neighbour that I only know you from seeing each other when either of us leaves the building. I would have remembered if you had attended a meeting of the owners of this building, so I assume you are renting." He took a deep breath and let it out. "Anyway, it's nice to meet you and get to know you. I don't know what Chris told you, but I own the Wohnung on the other side of the staircase, and she joined me this week." He sipped on his water. "And Nurhayat owns the one above me, and just lost her family to the pandemic, and
I didn't have the heart
to leave her alone up there so..."
"Buon giorno," Gianna interrupted him and did a curtsy. "I'm partly to blame that we haven't properly met. With the start of the lockdown I fell into a deep hole, and buried myself in gathering ideas for new flavours. Chris mentioned that I am the gelaterista for the ice parlour there?" Her hand fluttered towards the general direction and she got a nod. "Let's say my family and I are good commercial-vise, but have different opinions on more personal matters. But why don't you sit down, and we enjoy what you have brought?" Her hands accompanied her words with a dance of their own.
While Nurhayat placed the food on the table, Chris took some plates that Gianna passed to her through the window and laid their places. "Do you want water or wine?"
came the question
from inside, and after they all agreed on just water, her delicate hands passed out appropriate glassware and beverage.
Soon the four were enjoying a lively conversation through the kitchen window, with Gianna taking short breaks to disappear inside, sometimes bringing finger-food of her own. When a beep called her, Karl noticed Chris looking at him with a questioning expression, but before he could react, Gianna re-emerged, bringing ice cream cups for all of them. "I know it looks ugly, but I
had
to try my idea for chocolate and liquorice, sweetened with sugar beet syrup. No need to work on presentation when the taste isn't up to par."
Before they could take a taste of the newest recipe, however, Nurhayat, who sat facing the staircase, waved and called "Hello, Mrs. Müller-Schmidt!"
In the doorway stood a blonde woman with glasses, slightly hunched over, wearing a
jogging suit
. Apart from her apparel, she matched the
moist dream
of the politicians that started World War II.
"Mrs. Tasdemir? Mr. Schablonski? What...?" she started.
Karl interrupted: "My girlfriend Christiane", she waved, "talked to Mrs. Maglieri," Gianna waved out of the window, "and thought she could use some company.
This table isn't round, but we surely can find a place for you.
Would you like to join us?"
After a stunned affirmation, while Gianna fetched another cup of ice cream, Karl put up another folding chair that their hostess provided.
"So, I think introductions are in order?" the newly arrived said, gripping the chair backrest. "My name is Ann-Kathrin Müller-Schmidt. I am an only child and my parents divorced while I studied architecture and structural engineering. Just before the pandemic I got a job that included lodging at a reduced rate," she pointed upwards towards her own Wohnung, "and now I'm here, I guess." She sat down with a lop-sided smile.
Soon the new member of the round was up to speed regarding the fate of the Tasdemirs and (while carefully omitting the vaccine and its side effects) how Karl and Chris had helped her through the grief. Ann-Kathrin's employer turned out to be renting the Wohnung to Gianna, too. They owned the remaining ones above hers as well, but they were currently empty. Although no alcohol was involved, they had a lively discussion about the pandemic and its death toll, family near and far,
God and the world
.
When they parted at dawn, everyone was on a first name basis. Gianna came out for hugs, while Ann-Kathrin resorted to a two-handed handshake.
Back in their sanctum, Karl asked Chris: "You wanted to say something about Gianna?"
"What do you think of her?" she asked in return.
"I like her. She's easy on the eyes, has this Italian temperament and I like her ice- no, let me rephrase that. I like the way she works on new ice cream flavours, although they can't be to everyone's taste. Why?"
