The Rolls and the Pipe Ch. 05

Welcome to Chapter Five!

Before I go on, please remember that Lit.com is an adult orientated site, so if you're not 18 or older, vamoose.

I got inspiration to write this chapter while reading a story by "impressive". While Impressive's writing style isn't my favorite, this individual writes fairly well. I suggest that you go read!

I have been realizing that my writing style is a bit heavy, and I apologize for that – I'm trying to do better!

* * * * *

Kaiser's Perspective

As Paige stepped close in to me I wrapped my arms around her and held. She rested her head against my chest and folded her hands together behind my back. I stood with my legs apart as she squeezed tighter in to my body and I ran my hand across her shoulders and the other down to the small of her back.

Her head was tucked just below my chin and I breathed in, taking in the scent of her shampoo and perfume, sorting out the chemical smells from Paige's own unique odor. I breathed in slowly and steadily, keeping my arms locked against her back. As I inhaled Paige was slowly becoming pressed between my arms and my body, a combination of intense strength and soft comfort. I had been told I was a champion hugger – but it was only because I enjoy hugging.

We stood there for a long, long time; Cleopatra and Machiavelli twisted their tails around our legs and pawed our thighs as we held one another. I ran my right hand slowly up and down Paige's spine, feeling the wool of her sweater, counting the bumps down her spine, getting my hand tangled in the mass of ebony curls hanging to her rump. I wished then that I had a third hand.

Paige's Perspective

I entered his arms, feeling a bit apprehensive. I knew that his story had been hard to tell, and he needed a hug. I didn't know how he would take it – I was a stranger, and he had said that he didn't like people. He said that he was uncomfortable around women. Would he push me away?

His body was tense as I pressed my body against his. He was a big man, but he was not seriously overweight. He was comfortable to hold, though I needed to stretch to get my arms around him. When I let my head fall to his shoulder he relaxed and brought his hands up. His arms surrounded me as I felt his muscles bunch and shift under my cheek, and I gasped as his hands slipped smoothly under my hair and around my body. For a long time he just stood there, feeling me against his body. Then he started to breathe.

He moved his head down so his mouth was next to my ear and I felt his beard tickle my head. Slowly, oh so slowly, he inhaled. I didn't know that a body could hold so much air! His arms seemed to tighten around me as his diaphragm and chest expanded. I was pushed into his chest and arms as he breathed my scent, my face cushioned by the padding on his body. When I thought that I was about to be squashed by his body, he slowly exhaled, tickling my neck with his breath. Kaiser moved one hand and I squeaked – thinking he was about to let me go.

But no, that was the last thing he was going to do. He used his right hand to smooth the wrinkles in my sweater, counting my vertebra as he went. He made small circles with his fingers, applying different levels of pressure to my back muscles as he went, sending small shocks through my body. Kaiser flattened his hand against my back and started to rub gently up and down my back before tightening his grip on me again.

A small 'yeow – schnickikikk' came from our feet and I started. Kaiser's hands pulled away from my sides as we looked down. The Siamese looked irritated.

I laughed nervously and looked at Kaiser from under my eyelashes. His mouth twitched and his eyes twinkled.

"Sounds like it's time to feed the cats," he said, softly. "Did you want me to send someone for your things?"

* * * * *

It was not until later that night at supper that I asked what he meant by "feed the cats". He smiled and refused to comment, saying that the comment had a lewd connotation that was inappropriate for a lady's ears.

Kaiser pushed his chair back and crossed his ankles in the isle. He started fishing around in his vest and pulled out a pipe and a round tin of tobacco. A small silver-tipped rod and a box of matches were arranged neatly on the table beside him. I watched in fascination as he opened the tin, dipped the pipe into the tobacco, and packed it down. He did this three times before raising the stem to his lips. He lit a match and walked it around the tobacco, pressing it down with the little silver thing. He puffed a bit and lit another match.

Kaiser noticed me watching just then, and looked up at me as he touched the match to the tobacco again, a small smile on his lips and a twinkle in his eyes. His glasses mirrored the light of the match and made him look slightly sadistic. He blew the match out in a puff of smoke and settled deeply into his chair with a contented sigh.

"What are you thinking?" I asked.

"Do you really want to know?" That was his returning question that he asked every time I asked a question about him.

"Yes." I answered as I always did.

"I'm sitting here, having just finished a good meal, with a good pipe, in a comfortable chair, with an astonishingly gorgeous woman. I think that I'm relaxing a little bit."

Oh. Wait! I thought.He called me gorgeous!It was the first compliment he'd ever paid me – well, of that nature, anyway. I blushed.

Kaiser smiled a little and closed his lips around the stem of his pipe. I breathed in the aroma of the smoke and sighed, settling my elbows on the table. I watched as his eyes closed slowly as he enjoyed the pipe. Every once in a while he'd huff and breathe in deeply, like he had when we'd hugged.

"'On land, on sea, at home, abroad, I smoke my pipe and worship God,'" muttered Kaiser. "Johan Sebastian Bach."

"My great-grandfather used to smoke a pipe," I said.

"Really?" he asked, his eyes staying closed.

"Uh huh. He used to pick me up and put me on his lap. He'd let me hold his things as he filled it and then I'd cuddle up to him as he smoked and read the newspaper. Grand-dad didn't like smoking and would stay away, and Daddy would smile and go out to chop wood."

"Sounds kind of cozy."

"It was." I sighed. "When Grand-dad died, he left me his pipe. When I'm lonely, I pick it up and smell the old tobacco and remember."

"My family has smoked pipes for centuries," he said. "My old man used to sneak tobacco from my grandfather and smoke corn-cob pipes after school. Both of my grandfathers smoked pipes for decades. We have a picture of my great grandfather smoking a pipe in World War One. I blame them for my interest in it. Tobacco's in my blood," he joked.

Kaiser opened his eyes and looked at me. His gaze dove directly to my eyes. He rarely looked at anything else. He always seemed to be searching for something. I blinked and he looked away.

"So what do you want to do now?" he asked, taking a sip of water.

"I don't know. I like dancing, or we could go to a movie." His face didn't flicker. "Or we could go back to your place, or you could drop me off at home."

He coughed.

"Home's out of the question, unfortunately."

"Why?"

"Broken into, destroyed, razed. Choose any three."

"What?"

"My enemies are moving a bit faster than I would have liked. Normally, I would have assigned 24 hour a day protection and surveillance to you and your property. Unfortunately, when my men arrived at your building to install the security system this afternoon, they startled a troupe of burglars. The firefight that ensued ruptured a gas line and your place burned up. They were able to save one thing, though."

I was shaking in rage and fright. It was all I could do to ask what it was.

"This," he said, putting the pipe back into his mouth.

"WHAT!" Kaiser grinned.

"Yup. Have to say, it's one of the best smokes I've ever had!"

"You bastard."

"Oh, probably. So. Did you want another drink? Then we can go and see what we can sift out of your apartment."

It was thoroughly exasperating how he could be such a total ass and then show a sensitive side.

Kaiser's Perspective

After I dropped that bombshell, I bought a pitcher of margaritas. Paige downed most of it and I called a cab. We drove to her apartment on the Loop and watched the last few firefighters clean up. We rode the elevator to her floor and got off. Paige was shaking with nerves, and it didn't seem as though the booze had relaxed her any. We stepped out of the elevator, her hand tightly gripping mine, and we walked down the soaked hallway to her door. The solid oak portal had been kicked in and the drywall and wallpaper were sagging from water and chemical spray.

I stood in the door in shock. Everything was wet, and I meaneverything. Paige's apartment was nicely furnished with cream carpet, hardwood floor in the kitchen and leather furniture. Of course, the gas line rupture had caused the leather to crinkle and break, but the black and tan of the material was still visible. A soft layer of ash covered the walls, and a melted fish tank sat on a dresser in the corner. I swore.

"Oh shit."

Paige walked slowly into the room, dragging her hand along the wallpaper and destroyed furniture. Occasionally a small sob wracked through her petite frame as she surveyed the destruction. I could only begin to understand what this must be like for her. She had been a very self-sufficient woman; she'd purchased every single thing in this place, and had been close to owning the apartment. Her home had been destroyed.

And I had brought it upon her.

* * * * *

We gathered up her clothes (what remained of them) and any relevant information pertaining to insurance. When she found that her small office had been ransacked, she had convinced me to help her move some furniture. She showed me the fire proof safe she'd kept under her desk.

"Smart girl," I muttered. She opened it and handed me the contents. We left soon after, but not until I'd found and removed the small display case that had housed the pipe. I tucked it into my jacket, nodded at the police inspector and followed Paige out of the complex.

"It looks like you have one choice now."

"What's that?" she asked. She was obviously struggling to contain a massive sob.

"If you are up to it, you should stay at my place," I said. "A hotel is not safe, and who knows who they have in the police department."

It was a sure signifier of her exhaustion and sorrow that she didn't complain.

* * * * *

We took the cab back to the restaurant and I led Paige to my car. I sat her in the passenger's seat and loaded the trunk with her stuff. I said nothing as I drove her home, but my mind was whirling. I mean, what was I doing taking a girl home? A successful woman at that. She was vulnerable and it was against everything I believed in to do this – people need help in tumultuous times, not baby-sitting. But, equally important, was what I intended to do when I got her home. I was questioning myself now.Oh well. What'll happen will happen, I thought.

I parked my Mercedes in the parkade and led Paige to my flat. I found myself holding her hand at one point as we walked up the stairs.

Paige nearly broke down again as I keyed the door – I picked her up and carried her to the couches. I laid her down and removed her socks and shoes, draped her jacket over the back of the couch. I grabbed her clothes and put them nearby.

After I covered her with an afghan (one my mother knit for me), I slowly walked over to my chair and packed my pipe. I sat for hours, watching her sleep away her exhaustion and sorrow. I watched Mac climb onto the couch and curl up in the hollow of Paige's belly. Little Cleo yowled for attention and soon both Paige and I were basking in the warmth of little cats.

Paige's Perspective

I slowly rose from the depths of my grief-induced sleep. I felt warm and cozy, something warm and fuzzy on my belly and I smelled a mouthwatering combination of pipe smoke and cooking food. With a jolt, I remembered where I was – I remembered the destruction of my home very well, but everything after seemed a blur. Kaiser's male Siamese was curled up next to my belly on an afghan, and I could see my toes at the end of the couch. The cushions were deep enough that I felt I was receiving a full-body hug. I didn't want to move.

I heard something then – a spattering of grease, a clink of metal against metal and soft whistling. Machiavelli's ears perked up and he jumped from the sofa. With a long stretch and a lofty look at me, he sauntered into the kitchen. I heard some mumbling from the kitchen and soon Kaiser walked out, drying his hands on a towel.

"I was just about to come wake you. How do you feel?"

"Like I don't know how to get out of this sofa," I joked. Kaiser's eyes seemed to sparkle.

"Here, let me help." Kaiser bounced down the stairs to the den and squatted next to me, cocking his head to the side. "You know, you look cute when you sleep," he said. Flipping his towel over his white-clad shoulder, he stood and inserted his arms under my knees and my back. He straightened and I whooped. He stood me up on the coffee table and started walking away.

"Where are you going?" I asked as I stepped down.

"Fillet mignon needs constant attention. The cats might get at it." He paused at the door. "Supper will be ready in about twenty minutes. The bathroom is down there, and I've put your clothes in the wardrobe in the guestroom. I thought you might want to shower before you eat. It's been a long day."

Kaiser left me standing and blinking in the middle of the den.

Cleopatra appeared on the back of the couch and yowled. I followed her to the other end of the suite and started getting ready for supper. Walking into the lucious bathroom, I twirled in glee. I had never had a chance to sit in a jacuzzi, and this was the biggest thing I'd seen since the swimming pool. I pressed a button the water started filling the tub. I fiddled with knobs and got the water temperature right.

Just as I was stepping into the strawberry-scented water (I had found some bath oil in a cabinet), Kaiser knocked on the door.

"What kind of music did you want to listen to?" he asked.

"What?"

"There is a sound system in there – the control panel is to your left. It's connected to the disk-library in the den. Fiddle around with the buttons until you find what you want." I looked over and saw that he was right. "Supper can be put off a little while longer if you want."

"Yeah, that might be good," I called. "This is heavenly." I heard him chuckle as he walked away.

I played with the buttons and got some Mozart, Bach, Lil' Kim, Will Smith, Pantera, No One's Alone, Usher, and others. I settled on a modified Gregorian chant with deep bass and I slowly slid into the water. I sighed as I slid in to my neck. The jets seemed to move independently, and the streams of water caressed my body as I relaxed. One hit my clit and I sat straight in the tub with a cry.

"What is it?" Kaiser called.

"No-nothing! Just bumped my head," I called back.

I settled back into the tub and started washing, every so often allowing my body to slide back into the stream of water. The bath oil, the warmth and the water jets were making my body tingle all over. I washed my hair with a pine scented shampoo and ran conditioner through my long tresses. I exfoliated my body with a rough glove and ran warm body oil over myself. I was more relaxed than I'd been for months. I was rubbing my body with a massaging stick when I slid under the stream again. "Ohooooo," I moaned.

I slid deeper in the water as I let my hand run down my body. I played the baton over my nipples and the sensitive parts of my body. The water was moving slower now, in a rhythmic wave over my body. I traced my hands in circles over my body, pinching and tweaking my nipples, caressing my neck and gently scraping my legs with my nails.

Before long, I moved the baton down to my crotch. Just as I slid it into my sopping wet corridor, Kaiser knocked.

"Supper in five, Paige."

"WHAT? What - Okay, okay, I'm coming, I'm coming – " I panted, nearly wailing in frustration. With a hurried look at the door, I rinsed off the baton and emptied the tub. I got out and a gentle blast of warm air hit me from all sides. I picked up a towel (it was deep, soft and very, very large) and patted myself dry. I dried my hair the best I could and wrapped it in another towel.

I stepped out of the bathroom and quickly across to the guestroom. I dropped the towel from around my body and stepped quickly over to the wardrobe – a giant oak and mahogany beast with koa-wood trim and brass knobs. The doors had mirrors on the inside and my clothes were hung neatly. My delicates were folded and placed on the shelves that lined the sides. I blushed at the thought of Kaiser touching my intimate clothing. Interestingly, they were folded precisely how they would have been at a store. I saw a baby-doll that I knew I didn't own, and a white robe with a purple and green coat-of-arms embroidered on the lapel.

I threw on a pair of sweats and a spaghetti-strap tank top and tied the robe around me. Tying a pink ribbon around my wet hair, I padded barefoot down the hall, Cleopatra weaving between my legs. The pair of us met Mac in the den and we all went into the dining room where Kaiser was waiting. He was just putting down the last of the table settings and lighting a candle as I walked in. I leaned against the door and smirked.

"A little elaborate, don't you think?"

"Well," he said as he straightened a small wreath, "I could just throw this away and order in. I hear that 'Warf-side Dumpsters' have a special on cat right about now." Mac yowled in protest and Cleo squeaked.

"No, no, that's fine," I laughed. "It looks wonderful." Kaiser walked around behind a chair and pulled it out. I sat and he disappeared into the kitchen. A few clangs and bangs later, he came into the dining room with a pair of plates – fillet mignon with mushroom sauce (it looked like a Portobello glaze with sautéed shitake mushrooms), a spinach salad, and Yorkshire pudding. I think I gasped because he grinned as he set my plate in front of me.

"Eat up," he said.

* * * * *

It was later – about two in the morning. Kaiser and I were sitting on separate couches on either side of the fireplace, he nursing a tall glass of milk and vanilla and I sipping on a martini. We had chatted a bit during supper, and since sitting down, we had just sat and gazed into the fire in post gastronomic bliss. Cleo was curled up in Kaiser's lap, and Machiavelli stared at them from just behind my shoulder. I was caught up in my thoughts about the past day and I didn't hear Kaiser get up.

It wasn't until he had sat down beside me and put his hand on mine that I realized he was there. I looked at his hand and up to his face. He was looking at me intently.

"I wanted to apologize for this," he said. "I feel responsible for what happened today." I didn't understand what he meant.

"While you were asleep, I got in contact with your insurance agent – I have put a trust fund aside for you, consisting of the insurance money and the money I put in to match it: it'll be available for you when this is over."

"But –"

"No – I owe you at least this much. If I hadn't decided it was time for people to know more about what I do, you'd still be in your own home. This is my fault."

"It's not –" I protested. He smiled gently and patted my hand.

"I'll say good night now. I have to be up fairly early – I'm guest speaking at the university. I called Mr. Williamson and told him you needed a leave of absence. You've got the next two weeks off to recover and get things in order. Good night." Kaiser got up and walked away.