A cougar and a plumber

She had taken off her jewelry before she had cleaned the house that morning; now as she had gone to brush her hair once it was dried, she had bumped her favorite ring, sending it down the sink drain pipe before she could grab it.

“Shit!” she said. “Can any other fucking thing go wrong this week?”

Now the only thing she could do call the plumber, who would likely charge her through the nose to get the damn ring out.

Oh well, the sink was slow to empty anyway when she used it; maybe the asshole could fix that problem too while he was at it.

Throwing on a sweater and running pants with nothing underneath, Marla began thumbing through the yellow pages, hoping she could find one that is able to show up on such short notice, and on a Saturday to boot.

Somehow, she had gotten lucky on the first place she’d called. Marcelo introduced himself, saying he could be there in half an hour.

Marla wondered if he had been in need of business to be able to come out that soon on a weekend.

Marcelo. Marla figured he was probably Hispanic, and likely some older grunt that would be under the sink with a beer belly hanging below his shirt and his ass crack peeking out of his work pants.