Plumber Prequel

PLUMBER (Prequel)

By Leia Castle

www.LeiaCastle.com

©2015 All Rights
Reserved

Praise
for
www.LeiaCastle.com

“
Let me
just say that this is a very intense read! Stella and Christian’s
attraction towards each other makes it a hot and very emotional
reading. It’s an amazing story and I can’t wait to read what
happens next between the two. The part about the mom driving and
the danger of being caught are such a thrill! As always, I look
forward to your next ebook
!”
-- J. B., United
States

“
Yummy
Christian Wakefield. This book blew me away. The story is so hot! I
was turned on for the entire book!! The sizzling hot chemistry and
Christian’s reckless behavior in the car are just
WOW!”
-- W.A., United
States

“
Sensational read
! Leia, your ebook
never disappoints! I can’t get enough of Christian. I want more
now!!”
-- Anna., United
States

“
I just
felt thoroughly entertained while reading your book. It had the
perfect balance of emotional conflict and amazing chemistry. I hope
that I get to read more of the characters in the upcoming
releases.”
-- A.G.,
France

“
I read
the entire ebook in one night. I can’t put it down. The book starts
out explaining the conflict Stella feels towards her stepdad. The
story captivates me from the first page to the last word. It is a
page turner and I can’t put it down! Hot, sexy, emotional
read!”
-- Andrea, United
States

“
The
story actually has depth and character development. Yes, there’s
really hot sex, but it is very well written in a tasteful way. I’m
now a full blown fan.”
-- G.E, United
States

“
I love
the book! It was an emotional rollercoaster. Even though it’s an
erotica, it provided a glimpse into the character’s emotional
journey. The ending will blow you away! I can’t wait to read more
stories from Leia!”
-- J.P., United
States

Copyright
© 2015
www.LeiaCastle.com

All rights
reserved.

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While the publisher and
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Table of
Contents

1. Free Bonus Book!
   

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Plumber begins with the double
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June 2015, Los Angeles,
California.

THE NOON SUN SHONE through
the narrow space between the wooden window blinds of a tall,
skinny, 50-floor building in Westwood, Los Angeles, and landed on
the slightly curvy spine of a young woman, making her back look
almost translucent. Naked, her yoga-toned body was in a fluid
motion, up and down, front and back, following the beats of the
mating dance.

She threw her head back.
Her brunette pigtails brimmed on her bare breasts with erect
nipples, as she reached orgasm.

Two years ago, when the
18-year old Lara Gibbs bought a one-way ticket to Los Angeles,
leaving her hometown Chicago, she’d had a dream of being a big
movie star. She quickly realized that Hollywood was not for the
faint of heart. Without money, she began working as a waitress in
two different restaurants, making ends meet, while taking acting
classes whenever she’d saved enough money.

The constant rejections of
roles, the poverty, and the impatience of waiting for the big break
hardened her. She’d always been clever and resourceful and it
didn’t take long before she realized that she needed a benefactor,
preferably a rich, married, older man who’d support her
financially, as she pursued her dream to be a movie
star.

Soon, she caught the eye
of a married, well-off owner for an accounting firm and became his
mistress, getting paid $1000 a month to entertain him once a week
in her crampy apartment. The money wasn’t enough. And Lara expanded
her “business” and designed a system to rotate through seven
benefactors from Monday to Sunday, meeting them for lunch dates
that wouldn’t raise questions from their wives.

Monthly allowances, gifts,
and holiday bonuses (especially over Valentine’s Day, when her
benefactors felt guilty for not being with her) netted her $100,000
a year, all unreported and unknown to both the IRS and the trusting
wives.

On this particular day,
Lara was with her Wednesday lunch date Gary Michaels, who had no
idea there was also a Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday,
and Sunday lunch dates, that occurred in the same bed.

Gary Michaels was an
important and powerful man you’d never heard of. Working at the
zoning office of the Los Angeles City Hall, Gary was smart and knew
how to get real estate developers to cough up money to speed up
zoning approvals for their latest projects.

Privately, Gary was a
52-year old, married romantic who believed the fairy tale that sexy
women like Lara loved him for his tree-trunk body and sexually
deviant mind.

Kinky, his mind filled
with scenarios of him being the silver-fox daddy and Lara being his
naughty little girl. Gary loved to spank Lara in her catholic
school girl outfits, until her rear end was red with his hand
marks, then he’d throw her on the bed and they’d have wild
sex.

Today was a typical
Wednesday for Gary. Work. Lunch date with Lara. Work, then go home
to his unsuspecting wife and children.

But you see, it was not a
typical day at all. The last day of a man’s life was never
typical.

I lay still under the bed,
as Lara and Gary humped away above me. The bed shook violently, as
both partners got closer to climaxing. From head to toe, I was
covered in a yellow biohazard suit, blue heavy duty PVC gloves, and
chemically protected sock boots. I could hear my own breathing, as
air filtered through the black mask on my face.

Lara’s orgasmic moan was
my cue. With an ice pick, I poked three holes into a liquid sarin
bag and pushed it out from below the bed. The nerve gas quickly
spread into the room. The sound of screaming and gasping thrilled
me. I crawled out from under the bed, unable to resist the
temptation to watch my brilliant work.

Oh yes, it was
wonderful.

Gary twitched on the bed,
his pupils narrowed as he recognized my unique face behind the
mask.

Yes, it’s me. I’m your
killer.

I positioned my face
directly above Gary, desperate to watch his every expression. He
sweated profusely, and urine leaked out of penis. His eyes filled
with anger and pain. I watched him die.

Yes Gary, let it
go.

I turned my attention to
Lara, the beautiful, sexy blond who didn’t have to die, if she was
not involved with Gary. Pity filled my heart. She was mesmerizing.
Her porcelain skin soft and flawless, like a fine piece of
China.

She was still alive. Her
eyes full of horror and pain, as I clenched my hands into
fists.

I punched her. Again.
Again. Again. My rubber glove covered with blood from her
face.

My dad once told me that
low expectations were the secret to a long marriage. I wondered if
it held true for other areas as well.

For example, my
kids.

My son, Max was staring at
his math homework with the intensity of a homicide
detective.

"Dad, does 2x4 =
10?”

10? In what
world?

I looked at his cute face.
My father was definitely right. Low expectations were the mother of
patience.

"How did you get that
number?"

"Duh, dad," Max showed me
his fingers. He counted his fingers, ignoring that, as he counted
the first 8, the two pinky fingers creeped into the final count as
well. "See 10 fingers."

"I wouldn't recommend
counting fingers for math. What do you do when you need more than
10 fingers?"

"Dad, I’m in the first
grade. I’ll worry about it when I need to."

I sure hope the lack of
math skills was something he’d grow out of.

Suddenly, my phone rang.
It was Paula Parker, my partner at LAPD. "I’m at 6892 Wilson Blvd
in Westwood. Double homicide. Poison gas."

I was hoping to spend the
night with my kids - Max, Poppy, and Tucker.

Max looked up from his
homework. "Are you leaving?"