The plumber

My old house is a constant worry, there is always something that needs fixing. I’d put off getting a plumber for as long as possible because of the cost of unblocking the drains but now I had no choice.

“I guess you’re the pipe man?” I welcomed the plumber.
“Yes, I suppose you could call me that,” he gave a cheeky grin.
Pete was a lonely housewife’s fantasy in his tight jeans.
“Now, which bathroom are you having trouble with?” He asked.
I led him to the toilet which was making gurgling sounds. I felt a little embarrassed, a conversation over a blocked toilet bowl isn’t the best place for a girl to make an impression.
“I’ll get my drain-snake,” he said, with a slight hint of suggestiveness in his voice. “I think you may have tree roots blocking the pipe.”
Later there was a deafening noise as his ‘drain-snake’ cleared the roots which had grown into the underground sewage pipe.
“Try flushing the toilet!” Pete shouted.
Doing as instructed, I was delighted when the water drained away with a satisfying gush.
Pete came in, looking a little smug. “Is this yours?” he asked, holding a glass jar, filled with bank notes, in his gloved hand.
“Where on earth did you find that?” I gasped.
“I found it in the garden when I dug the hole,” he said, “Someone must have buried it and forgot about it?”
I took the jar from him, only for a second thinking about where his glove had been. I unscrewed the rusty lid and tipped out the contents on to the kitchen table.
There was over $1000 and a Ruby ring. I laughed out loud and hugged Pete.
“Pete the Pipe-man, I love you!”
To say I surprised him is an understatement.