W & Little D 04

Again there is no real sex stuff in this chapter. It is a transition which is much easier done in a book, but it is necessary for the story. If you don’t like it, you can just wait for the fifth, sixth, and seventh chapters. They should satisfy your carnal yearnings.

WARNING! All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content. All people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations, and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real life.

All characters involved in sexual activity in this story are over the age of 18. If you are under the age of 18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century.

Archiving and reposting of this story is permitted, but only if acknowledgment of copyright and statement of limitation of use is included with the article. This story is copyright (c) 2022 by The Technician.

Individual readers may archive and/or print single copies of this story for personal, non-commercial use. Production of multiple copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format is expressly forbidden.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

* * * * * * * * * * * *

CHAPTER FOUR

The Gasman

Arnold Lamplighter, known in the trade as The Gasman, lived in a rather exclusive area adjacent to Chalfont Saint Giles, about a forty-five minute ride and a couple million pounds sterling from the east side of London. He had sounded a bit surprised when I called and said I had an urgent need to speak to him in person, but he said to “drop by” around eight.

I was wearing a leather jacket and motorcycle boots when I arrived on my Triumph. Partly, I wanted to look like someone out for a joyride, but the leather and boots might give me a little additional protection if things went south in a hurry.

The three security men who met me at the front door of the mansion gave me a cursory pat down before we entered. Once inside they were a little more thorough. “You will get your Glock and this… lady gun… back when you leave.” one of them said gruffly. Evidently he had a low opinion of the 25 caliber automatic that I had inside my boot. He then pointed to a door just off the huge entryway. A different security man walked in front of me, opened the door, and stepped aside. Inside the room was a large desk, and behind the desk sat a large man, Arnold Lamplighter.

“Come in, W,” he called out loudly and waved his hand.

I stepped in and sat down in the large upholstered chair that was centered in front of the desk. He was silent for a moment and then said almost flatly, “Finn called me. I know why you’re here.” He paused and then said a little more urgently, “You have to understand, W, I had no choice. This man would kill me. He would kill my family… or worse.”

“So you kidnapped my niece,” I said angrily.

“I didn’t know who it would be,” he almost wailed. “And I only provided the equipment. I knew it was nasty because he is. … And because he made such severe threats.”

He visibly shuddered and then continued, “I can’t tell you anything else or he will do everything that he promised to do to me and my family.” He shuddered again and said in a very shaky voice, “Even if I could trust you, he would find out I told you.