I am a plumber. I have the crack to prove it. That and an SUV full of tools and parts. The only better job, to my mind, is writing. I do that too.

Many years ago I had the opportunity to apprentice as a plumber. Having had two businesses fail I figured a proper trade would at least give me an option for the lean times. After all, kids are always dropping their toys in the toilet and pipes freeze in the winter.

I was assigned to a misogynistic pig of no small water, but in between Missy and little lady, he taught me well. I even gave him a kiss when I graduated. I'm hoping that was a gun in his pocket.

I stayed with that firm for nearly a year until a neighbour told me he'd been hired to run the southwest branch of a Manchester emergency handyman firm. I would be self-employed but he would give me my jobs and handle the billing.

George, the pig taught me to be a very good plumber and Bill, the neighbour taught me a lot of other useful tricks. The first lesson was appearance. "You are five-feet-four and a woman," he said. "You have to establish your bona fides at a glance. The client is expecting a bloke, you can't afford to give him time to think you might be something other than a plumber. Wear overalls and carry your toolbox when you ring the doorbell. Don't set it down." Words I never forgot.

Bill called me one day to say he had a job for me past Swindon. "It's a long way to go for minimum," he said, "if you don't want it I can get someone there later. But she sounds pretty desperate."

"I'll go," I said, "there's naff all on telly and I fancy a drive." So once I'd looked the address up in my atlas - atlas: a way to find places before Google - I set off on an hour's journey.

My destination was in a fairly new estate on the far side of Swindon. I walked up to the door, toolbox in hand, and rapped the lion's head knocker. The door opened to reveal a mid-twenties, chubby, cute blonde. Very disheveled, very wet, and in tears. Desperate, Bill said. Can he call them or what?

I was tempted to hug her but held back. She obviously needed comforting but she might not want it from me. "Show me what's wrong," I said, and she practically dragged me by my free hand upstairs to the bathroom. Halfway up the stairs, I met some what's wrong flowing down. Not where water should be, certainly not on a Thursday.

We got to the bathroom door and I noticed a shower head-shaped hole on the end of the pipe. Somewhere in that lake, I guessed, was the missing piece that would normally turn a firehose-like jet of water into gentle rain. The first thing I needed to do was ask, "Do you know where the water shutoff is?" Her blank look told me I was going to be a search party.

I grabbed a couple of wrenches and a screwdriver and went to my van for my water key. I scanned her path and the grass either side, no water cover. A glance along the pavement and my hunt was over. A quick flick with the key, lift the cover, and there were the meter and the shutoff valve. Well, most of it. Nope, all of it. Fishing around with a bent coathanger I caught the wheel-head, to which was attached the broken stem. Whoever last touched this valve was very strong, very stupid, and very fucking inconsiderate. I so hoped his ears were burning.

I used the young lady's phone to call the water board who said they could have a crew there in three hours.

"Uh, Ma'am, it's ten now. The earliest the water crew is likely to be here is three o'clock."

"Call me Willie," she said and began to cry again. "My floors are going to be ruined."

Once more I refrained from touching her, but I thought I could comfort her in a better way, by minimising the damage to her beautiful hardwood floors. "I have an idea."

I went back upstairs and started to undress. Her eyes widened in a "what on earth are you doing" sort of look, but I just said as I undressed, "Get all the towels, blankets, anything absorbent, and a couple of brooms. Yard brooms in the back of my van." I tossed her the keys. I noticed that now we were again working on the problem she had stopped blubbing.

"Where do you want them?"

"Just keep them dry until I stop the leak." Once down to bra and knickers I waded into the storm, looking for the shower head. I stubbed my toe on it and picked it up. Split thread, that wasn't going to do the job.

"Willie," I called as she was going down the stairs, "at the back of the van are three buckets with odd parts in them. There should be a couple of old shower heads in one."

"Okay."

"Quick as you can, please. Just dump the buckets on the ground."

I waited at the bathroom door, soaking wet. Willie was back in a trice with not two but three heads. As I took them and thanked her I realised she was staring at me. My undergarments did very little to impede her view of my bush, my cold water enhanced nipples, all my best assets.

Self-consciously I turned around and attended to the job in hand, forcing a shower head against seventy PSI water pressure and lining the threads up. It ain't easy, I assure you. After many tries and much subvocal cursing, I got the threads started. I reached to my back pocket for a wrench ... oh. Before I could turn there was a mole wrench in my hand and I tightened up the thread.

I stepped back to watch the water, no longer an uncontrolled geyser but the gentle spray it was meant to be. Now I could look at the valve. Had I been thinking straight I might have checked that first, but it would have done no good. FUBAR is the technical term.

When I stood up I felt a warm towel over my hair and soft hands removing my bra and panties. I turned as Willie started to dry my face. When she dropped the towel I realised she was coming to press her naked body against mine. "What about the flood?" I asked.

Pulling back, she said, "I found your big heater. Can we use it to dry the place?"

"Sure," I said, "as long as it's not too hot."

"Here are the towels and blankets. They can go on the line after, and you can light the fire."

We mopped and swept and cleared the water up, and Willie would interrupt frequently to kiss me, or lick me, or suck my titties.

We stood together and hugged, our soft breasts with their hard nipples mashing together. I asked her what happened.

"Well, there you were, as good as naked, and I ..."

"To the plumbing, daft bint."

"Oh, that. I slipped, and to save myself I grabbed the lever. It discombobulated and came away in my hand, causing me to set back with a thump. The pipe shook twice, the head flew off, and suddenly I was wondering where to buy an ark. I phoned around, and yours was the only firm promising service late today. Most were Saturday. or next week."

Willie was even cuter once her humour had been restored. And hot. There was, however, still work to be done.

"Okay," I said, "you are going to need a new shower regulator, a new head, possibly a new pipe. What's on the other side of this wall?"

She led me to a closet with, lo and behold, an access panel. "I take it that helps," she said in response to my smile.

"It's probably the only good news I've had today, other than you are the hottest woman in Swindon."

"You are hotter."

"No I'm not, and besides I came from Bristol."

"I have an idea," Willie said. "Who knows when the water board will turn up. When they do, can you just put a plug thingie on the pipe? That way I will have most of the afternoon to thank you. We can talk about repairs later."

"A stopend? as long as I have one, or the right threaded tap, or something, yes. Let me check. Rats, I should have done that first!"

"No, you were fantastic," she said and gave me a long, deep kiss.

I pulled on my overalls and went to the van for what I needed. Half inch stopend and PTFE tape, perfect. We weren't allowed to call it Teflon then unless it said Teflon. Well I'll be, she had reloaded the buckets.

As I returned, Willie opened the door wearing a rather large strapon. "Well, bugger me," I said.

"I hope to," she replied, leading me by the hand up the stairs again. This time I was not greeted by a waterfall but was ushered into her bedroom.

Willie pushed me back on the bed and ordered, "Don't move." She fell to with my nipples, sucking and chewing them, and reached down to my slit, stroking my lips up and down, one at a time.

I moaned, lifting my hips, unable to completely obey her. After what seemed like a blissful eternity she moved away from my breasts to my belly button, licking and probing it. I don't know about anyone else, but I really like having my navel fussed with.

Suddenly she discovered my clit and flicked it. A huge shock went through me and I nearly left the bed. I came. Not a huge orgasm, but a flick of the clit and I was jelly.

"One."

"Eh," I managed to blurt out, wittily.

Suddenly she was on my clit like white on rice, in turns teasing it with the tip of her tongue and nibbling the base and stretching it. It wasn't long before I was closing in on another orgasm. Panting, sweating, writhing, "Oh god!"

"Two."

I saved my breath, thinking I'd be needing it soon. I was right. Three fingers in my hole, my clit in her teeth, relentless onslaught. Suddenly a thumb in my arse and, "Fuck meeeee."

"Three."

Only three and they were getting bigger. On a curve. I may not survive six. But what a way to go. Lots of fingers in both holes and she still had the clit between her teeth, to coin a ... "Aiiiiii, yesss, yesss, yessssss." Squirting.

"Four."

Was she sure? I felt like I had been cumming forever. Now she was moving. My head was spinning and I didn't know where she was headed. Oh, she was kissing me, slipping her tongue in my mouth. Dancing with my tongue. Not long after the last orgasm, and yet I felt another one approaching. I felt something, must be that dildo, sliding up and down my pussy, my soaking pussy, then diving into my hole, burying deep inside me. A few hard strokes and I was off again. "Yes, oh yes, ohhhh, gooood, yesssss."

"Five."

I had died. Died and gone to heaven. Must have.

"Turn over."

I was jelly, I ... "Can't," I said, so she helped me.

She spread my legs and put that wonderful, brutal cock in my arse. Slowly she pushed into me and into me, until she could go no further, until I could take no more. Then she pushed again, proving I could take more until there really was no more to take. Oh my lord, I saw that thing. It was all in my arse? Well, bugger me. Slowly Willie pulled back a bit, and forward, and back and forth, more and more with each stroke, longer, and harder, and faster, pounding me.

"Willie," I screamed.

"Grace," she screamed back.

"Willie," "Grace," we screamed to each other as she pounded me with her cock, thrashing my insides in her frenzy. Screaming as we came as she pounded my arse with that monster. Our hearts pounded as we struggled to breathe so we could scream some more as she pounded me, rammed that dildo in me, stroked my arse. Slowly our screaming subsided, her strokes shortened, we wound down. Finally, she pushed all the way in and stopped. She collapsed on my back as we panted, hearts pounding, struggling to return to some semblance of normalcy.

"Six," she panted.

Careful not to disturb her, I turned my head. She kissed my cheek and I asked, "Willie, am I still on the clock?"

"On my cock, dear? Yes. Let's rest."

We lay there for what may have been a lifetime but was more likely less than an hour before Willie started to withdraw from my quivering arsehole, sliding off me. Finally freed, I turned to face her and hug her, kiss her beautiful mouth.

A while later, about five o'clock, I heard the knocker. "That will be the water board. I need to see them."

"Then you had better have this," Willie said. handing me a thick bathrobe.

"Hello, I'm Fred," said a smiling Irishman. "We've shut the water off. Is the plumber still here?"

"I'm the plumber," I said.

Bless Fred's heart, he gave no indication that I should not be a plumber, nor that I should not be standing there in a bathrobe. "Sign here please, Miss. How long do you need us?"

"Will you be replacing the stopcock?"

About then, Fred, bless his heart again, must have caught sight of Willie, still wearing nothing but her strapon. "No," he squeaked, then regained his composure. "Another crew will do that next week. If the other lady will call our office tomorrow they might be able to tell her when."

"Then I'll only keep you a few minutes tonight while I install a more permanent temporary patch. Would you and your men like a cup of tea, Fred?"

"No, thank you, Miss. You two are obviously busy."

"Then I'll be back in a jiff," I said to his receding back.

Ten minutes later I was back at the door, calling to Fred that I was done. He waved and gave me a thumb's up, but did not come back to the door. I figured either he was going to be extra special to his wife tonight or he was going to have a fantastic Tommy tank as he imagined what Willie was doing to me right now.

In fact, it was my turn to do Willie. We heard the crew's truck leave as I licked her arse.