*Author's Note: Any persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.
CH 1
Other than in the group photograph of the St. Thomas Aquinas graduating seniors, his individual photograph, and the St. Thomas Aquinas Basketball team, there were no photographs of Jack Vogel in the St. Thomas Aquinas yearbook of the school year for 2004-2005.
There were a few of his beautiful younger sister, Julie Vogel (she always seemed to be around whenever the two male students on the Yearbook staff had the Yearbook camera.)
"Y'all are such dorks," Elise good-naturedly teased them.
"Ooh, here's a good one of you," Tommy McElroy said and enlarged the digital photograph of Elise Simone, pulling her gym shorts out of the crack of her buttocks.
"Tommy! Don't you dare!" Elise screeched and attempted to strangle the laughing eighteen year old.
"Miss Simone!" Sister Beatrice hissed as Tommy easily pulled the girl onto his lap.
"But, but," Elise sputtered. "HE did it!"
"Uh huh, both of you behave," Sister Beatrice said and resumed her task of cropping the digital photographs that had already been selected for inclusion.
"Butt hole," Elise hissed to the smirking Tommy.
"Whole butt," he hissed back and tried to cut and paste yet another photograph of his girlfriend, Kaitlin Monroe into the file that Sister Beatrice was working on.
"Uh uh, drop it," Elise warned.
Xxxx
Jack did notice the lack of photographs of himself in the yearbook and was hurt by his exclusion. He had been the star basketball player; surely they could have found at least one photograph of him as he scored a basket? He had dated many of the girls in the senior class and many of the girls in the junior class as well; didn't three of the senior girls work on the Yearbook committee?
He joined Mike Chamblee outside of the school office as Mike glumly looked at the glossy pages of his own copy of the yearbook.
Both boys sneered at Gretchen Dunbar as the unattractive girl waddled out of the office, carrying two yearbooks; hers and Becky's.
"Fucking ugly ass cum dumpster. Any of you in it?" Jack asked.
"Ain't seen none yet," Mike admitted.
"Man, what the fuck, huh?" Jack asked. "I mean, you and me was the best fucking basketball players on the team, and nothing?"
"Sucks, but you know what? Fuck them," Mike said, slapping the book shut.
"Want to go shoot a few?" Jack asked.
"Your house; my mom's got another one of her migraines," Mike said.
The summer sun bore down on them and the humidity made the air almost too thick to breathe as they dribbled the ball and shot baskets on the goal Jack's father had hung for his son.
<<<<
"Son, you're probably one of the best basketball players, at least for a white kid," the scout from LSU had said.
Jack smirked; this guy wasn't telling him anything new.
"But your attitude sucks," the scout said, closing his notebook.
"Uh huh?" Jack said, not seeing any point to the man's comment.
"You're not a team player, you're a hot dog," the scout went on. "Your grades are bottom of the barrel, barely enough to get by, and you're a discipline problem; how many times you been in detention this year?"
"Um, I don't know," Jack admitted.
"Make it easier on you, how many times you got a detention this month?" the scout went on, walking toward the door of the guidance counselor's office.
"Three," Jack admitted.
"Uh huh," the man said and nodded with his head toward the door, indicating that the interview was over.
"Aw, kiss my ass, ass hole," Jack sneered. "Go play for the Ragin' Cajuns; beat LSU any day of the week."
"What'd you call me?" the man yelled, getting right in Jack's face.
"You heard me," a frightened Jack bluffed, not backing down.
"Uh huh, and that's why you're not coming to LSU in the fall, punk," the man sneered.
But the University of Louisiana at Lafayette didn't want him either.
True, he could have gone to any of the colleges that would accept him; the University of New Orleans had agreed to put him on academic probation for the first semester, as had the University of Louisiana at Monroe and the University of Louisiana at Shreveport.
The problem was, Marnie Vogel didn't have the money to send her son to college and she made too much as an insurance agent for Jack to qualify for a grant; he was in that limbo of too rich to get assistance and too poor to go without assistance.
>>>>
Anna Gimmeli loved the Kawasaki 900cc crotch rocket. Her niece and niece's husband, Alicia and Cris Dumas rode Harleys, and Cris also rode a vintage Indian Chief from time to time. The two of them scoffed at her Japanese bike, but Anna didn't care; she loved her bike.
She zipped up the leather shorts and pulled on her white tee shirt and headed to the door.
"Where you going?" Paul Gimmeli asked.
"For a ride," she said, glad the visor of her helmet hid her face from view; she was rolling her eyes at his stupid question.
Where did he think she was going, dressed in her tight tee shirt and leather shorts and leather boots? The helmet alone should have been a dead giveaway.
"I can see that," he snapped. "I mean, 'where are you going?'"
"Out. For. A. Ride. Out for a ride," she said, exasperated at his behavior.
Paul Gimmeli was one of the most insecure men she'd ever met. She'd been engaged to him when she was nineteen and him a twenty year old man-boy. His immaturity, coupled with his boorish arrogance, along with her drunkenness had thrown her into the bed of Tony Clark. She gave Tony her virginity and then discovered that she was pregnant.
Sudden Infant Death Syndrome took Lucille from her and a string of affairs took Tony from her. Her second husband committed suicide, leaving her with a stack of bills and very little possibility of paying them off.
Paul hadn't spent his time pining after Anna Scandurro; he'd gotten married as well.
<<<<
Paul had met Nellie Skovinski when she applied for a credit card at DeGarde National Bank and asked the stunning blonde for a date.
"I'll be honest with you," Nellie said over dinner at Radcliffe's, the trendy restaurant of DeGarde, Louisiana. "Don't expect me to fall madly, hopelessly head over heels in love with you."
"Oh, okay," Paul said, dejectedly.
"As long as you can keep me happy," Nellie went on, smiling and showing her perfect teeth. "As long as you're bringing home the bacon, I'll make sure you're happy."
"Oh, okay," Paul said, brightening a little.
"Do we have a deal, Mr. Gimmeli?" Nellie smiled lecherously.
"I think we can make some arrangements," Paul agreed.
She was true to her word; as long as Paul kept the money flowing, Nellie kept the pussy flowing. Paul found out that nothing was off limits with Nellie, as long as he could buy a ring, or a bracelet, or a Mercedes-Benz for his wife.
"Ooh, a diamond necklace?" she'd croon. "Does Paulie want to stick his great big thingie up my little bitty butt?"
Tony Clark came back into the lives of the Scandurros and the Gimmelis and in a very short amount of time, Paul found himself bankrupt.
"I was completely up front with you," Nellie said coldly when Paul announced the state of their finances. "As long as you bring home the bacon, I'd make you happy. You can't bring home the bacon? I'll find myself someone who can."
>>>>
Last he'd heard, Nellie was now Nellie Gamble, married to a Texas oilman.
But marriage and divorce had done little to help Paul Gimmeli grow up.
Anna had found that quality somewhat endearing, cute when she ran into him at the Yellow Rose nightclub in Lafayette.
She was there with a group of women from her A.A. home group in DeGarde; Amber was getting married on Saturday, so the girls were 'cutting loose.' As they were all recovering alcoholics, none were drinking anything stronger than coca cola, but they were the loudest in the nightclub, shrieking, squealing and laughing.
"Hey!" Paul said as Anna turned back around and ran right into his chest.
"Hey!" she laughed and surprised him by giving him a light little kiss on his lips. "How you doing?"
"I'm good, I guess," he agreed. "Buy you a drink?"
"Don't drink, but thanks," she smiled.
"Wait, what?" Paul laughed out loud. "You're kidding, right?"
"Nope, got three years," Anna said and proudly showed him her three year medallion.
"Um, wow, okay," Paul said and then glanced over her head to his date. "Well, um, I got to go, but hey, great seeing you again; you living here in Lafayette now?"
"Nope, still in DeGarde, still with Mom and Dada," she said, losing her smile. "But great seeing you again too. See you around, okay?"
"Who was that?" Amber asked. "He's kind of cute."
"Yeah, old boyfriend," Anna said, her happy mood gone. "Soon as he found out I don't drink no more, he wanted to get the fuck away from me as quick as he could, though."
"Really?" Amber said, smiling. "Then why's he keeping looking over here?"
"What?" Anna said and quickly glanced over her shoulder at Paul, who quickly looked away.
They spent the rest of the night making eye contact and quickly breaking eye contact with each other.
"Oh my God!" Amber screeched. "Want me to go over and see if he likes you? Or you want to pass him a note or what?"
"Shut up," Anna demanded, and then giggled.
Nearly three years later, the insecurity was driving her crazy. That and his small penis.
"Why I can't fuck around?" Anna asked Jamie, her A.A. sponsor. "I mean, Come on; he's a shitty fuck."
"Because, Anna," Jamie Baggett explained patiently. "We're trying to live our lives on a spiritual basis now; that means 'rigorous honesty,' remember? And you ain't going to tell me that fifteen minutes of fun is worth throwing your sobriety and your marriage away, huh?"
"Yeah?" Anna asked, "How the fuck you make it last fifteen minutes?"
"Do it twice," Jamie said and the two women laughed.