The Plumber - Part 1

A few more commissions to get through this week and next. I'll also be coming back to the stories that haven't been finished over the last few weeks, including The Handsome Stranger. 

All characters are consenting adults (18+)

She’d been ignoring me all morning. I knew she was still upset about the previous night, but what could I do? I was working every hour I could, just to afford to get by, so our two year anniversary dinner wasn’t exactly high up on my priority list.

“Are you even going to look at me?” I asked coldly, and my wife glared at me for a moment before picking up our son and promptly leaving the kitchen. I sighed to myself, but as usual, I had no time to dwell on it.

Sarah and I had been having more and more problems since Daniel was born. I suppose that was to be expected, with sleepless nights and the constant stress of having kids, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was no longer as interested in our marriage as I was, and despite the fact that I was only thirty five, I was already exhausted.

I checked myself in the mirror before leaving. Truthfully, I don’t know why I bothered anymore. Years of hard labour had left me rough. Sure, I was still relatively handsome beneath the dried paint, calloused hands and job related wounds, but I’d become a carbon copy of my old man, and I wasn’t sure if I was happy about that or not. I scowled to myself as I plucked a grey hair from between the black ones, and was in the van shortly after.

I never wanted to be a plumber. In fact, after spending my entire childhood watching how much of a toll it took on my father, I actively tried not to become one, but times were tough, and finding a job wasn’t easy, so I did the only thing I knew how, and now my life was miserable.

My phone buzzed as I drove. I didn’t recognise the number, but answered anyway.

“Mike from Mike’s Home Repairs”.

“I’ve been waiting here for the last hour!” A man’s voice snapped back, and I cocked a brow. “What type of service is this?!”

“Uh… I’m sorry, but who is this?”

“Albert Montgomery!” He barked, “you were supposed to be here an hour ago!”

The man was enraged, and I quickly checked my calendar and cursed under my breath. I’d gotten my times mixed up.

“Sorry about that” I said, because if I’d said what I really wanted to say, I’d be down a job. “I’ll be there in the next twenty minutes”.

“I have to go to work” Albert growled, “I can’t just wait around for you people all day”.

You people? I rubbed my head and sighed again. “Do you want to reschedule then?” I asked, as politely as I could.

“No, no, you’ll do the damn job today” he spat back, “my son, Elliot, will let you in”.

I’d already had an idea that the guy had more money than sense, just by the sound of his voice, but I hadn’t expected his house to be a literal mansion. The drive was as long as my entire street, and the house was like something from a magazine. I felt rather out of place as my beaten up van chugged along, but there was nothing I could do about that now.

I slammed the huge brass knocker and wondered what the guy did for work. Perhaps he’d take pity and offer me a job. I smiled to myself at the idea, until the door swung open and a stroppy teenager looked back at me with narrow eyes.

“What?” He asked, with an air of arrogance about him. I could tell that he was as much of a snobby twat as his father was.

“I’m here to fix your toilet” I said. It was a phrase that I’d never get used to, and it was made even worse when the little shit smirked.

“Gross” he replied, with a smug grin, and stepped aside to let me in.

“Who are you tellin’, kid” I mumbled to myself, and walked into the lavish mansion. “Where to?”

“Where to what?”

“The toilet…”

He scoffed again. It was already beginning to irritate me, but I’d be in and out within the hour, so I could do little but endure it.

“We have like eight bathrooms” he said, strolling ahead of me, “they’re all over. You just have to find them”.

The young man trotted up the wooden staircase, and I watched in dismay as he disappeared.

“Little bastard” I hissed, and began my search for the elusive bathrooms as a door slammed shut upstairs.

The furniture in the living room alone was worth more than my entire house. Even looking at it felt wrong, but I moved on until I found the first large bathroom and got to work.

It wasn’t a glamorous job by any means, but it paid the bills, so I quickly finished up, moved onto the second one, and did the same until I had just one bathroom left.

“This is ridiculous” I said out loud, after searching the huge house three times over. “Hey, kid!” I shouted, but received no response.

I considered calling it a day, but I knew that Albert wouldn’t be happy with an unfinished job, so against my better judgement, I returned back upstairs and stood outside the only door that was closed. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and slammed my fist against the wood.

“Hey, kid” I called, “I can’t find the last can”.

I heard some scrambling in the bedroom, then some hushed cursing before the door swung open and the blond teen glared at me once more. “I’m not a kid” he spat, “I’m eighteen”.

I gave him a cold look that told him that I didn’t give a solitary fuck how old he was, I just wanted to find the last shitter and go home.

His stony expression softened a moment later, and his irritating smirk returned. “Anyway” he said, and pushed the door open further, to reveal a bedroom that was three times the size of my own. “Last one’s in here”.

I gave him a stiff nod and picked up my tool box before stepping toward him, only to be stopped.

“You’re not wearing those dirty boots in here” he said, “this is an Axminster carpet, in case that wasn’t obvious. Father had it imported from Scotland”.

I was becoming more enraged by the second, but I was nearly finished, so I kicked off my work boots as the smarmy little shit watched, and shoved by him and into the en suite.

It was cleaner than I had expected, given the usual state of teenager’s bathrooms, and I couldn’t help but smile to myself at the sheer number of photographs of the snobby little brat plastered all over the place. Many of them showed him with people who looked famous, though I wasn’t exactly well versed in teenage idols, anymore.

“Don’t touch anything” he said from the door behind me.

“How do you expect me to fix your toilet if I don’t touch it?” I asked, and he considered it for a moment before realising how fucking thick he was.

“Well, don’t get anything dirty” he growled, and crawled back onto his bed.

“Little fuck” I whispered, and got to work.

Thankfully, the job was a relatively easy one, and I was finished the last toilet within the hour. I got to my feet, pulled out six inches of soft cock, and took a piss just to really infuriate the kid.

“Are you pissing in my toilet?!” He gasped, staring at me from his bed with his jaw on the floor.

“Sorry, kid” I said, sighing contently as I squirted the last few blasts, “nature called”.

“I already told you!” He snapped, standing up, “I’m not a kid!”

“Whatever” I shrugged, and flushed before turning around and holding out my hand. “Money”.

“Aren’t you going to even wash your hands?” He grimaced.

“Does it look like I wash my hands much?” I asked, showing him my beaten up palms, “money”.

He looked disgusted as he stuffed his hand into the pocket of his loose basketballs shorts and pulled out a wad of cash that was easily more than I made in a month.

“Father said two hundred” he said, picking out a couple of notes.

“Father didn’t mention eight fucking toilets” I replied, “make it five”.

The lad had no concept of money. He didn’t even question me, and instead, handed it over, being careful not to touch me in the process.

“Thanks” I nodded, and walked toward the bedroom door, before the young man called me. I looked back over at him, and watched as his brown eyes narrowed again.

“Do you want to know what I was doing before you came in?” He asked, and I cocked a brow.

“Not particularly, no” I replied, watching as he smirked again.

“I was on my bed” he said, pointing to the large king size.

“That’s uh… That’s great” I nodded, “I have to get going”.

“Wait!” He called, and I rolled my eyes before turning back to him once more, and that’s when everything changed.