*Author's Notes: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.
**Disclaimers: This story has been edited by myself, using Microsoft Spell-Check. You have been forewarned; expect to find mistakes.
**.**
Joanne 'Joee' Breaux entered the World Economics class and resisted the urge to tug down the hem of her miniskirt. The short red head felt extremely self-conscious wearing such revealing clothing in public, but Shaley Greene, her personal trainer had bullied her into buying the snug top and short skirt.
"You put some serious work into that body; about time you showed it off," the svelte blonde had barked.
Joee had indeed put some serious work into her body. The five foot tall red head had sweated, grunted, groaned and whittled inches and pounds off of her frame.
The pounds had been an effective shield as she scurried along the halls of DeGarde High School. No one paid any attention to the short blob with the frizzy red hair. The cookies and cakes and brownies had given her solace against the crushing loneliness.
Joanne Katherine Breaux was the only child of Katherine Ann Breaux. Timothy and Joanne Breaux had disowned their only child when she became pregnant out of wedlock, bringing shame to their family. Bravely, Katherine did her best to provide a loving and stable home for her daughter.
Naming her tiny red headed baby Joanne, after Katherine's mother had not softened Joanne Sarah Falgout Breaux one iota. The death of Timothy Breaux did not change Joanne's opinion one bit. And when Katherine was diagnosed with brain cancer, Joanne still was not swayed in the least to forgive her only child for being such a shameless and wanton hussy.
"Louisiana does not recognize medical marijuana," Dr. Farbacher said as he gave the thirty one year old single mother the horrible news. "It's a shame, it's really a travesty; marijuana helps with the pain, it helps with curtailing some of the side effects of the treatment."
Then, quietly, Dr. Farbacher told Katherine where she could find some good, potent marijuana. A double chocolate chocolate chip cookie with some marijuana baked into it gave Katherine some much needed relief and gave her some appetite. A double chocolate chocolate chip cookie with some marijuana and a few drops of cannabis oil baked into it actually made Katherine giggle.
Joeee was a few days shy of her seventeenth birthday when Katherine took her last breath. She was quietly acclimating to the Gueydan Foster home when Joee was introduced to her namesake.
"They say if I don't take you in, you'll just a be a ward of the state until you're eighteen," the harsh faced woman snapped.
Timothy Breaux had been a miserly penny pincher. He had invested well, had purchased shares of global oil and natural gas concerns as well as mineral deposits worldwide. Upon his death, Joanne Breaux sold the sixty four year old wooden shack she and Timothy had called home for the duration of their marriage, sold his thirty eight year old rusted pickup truck and bought a four thousand square foot home on Shoreline Drive in Baylor Lake, Louisiana, and bought herself a brand new Mercedes-Benz.
Joee went from a crowded foster home to a small mansion among other small mansions. She also went from a crowded, noisy, bustling house to a cold, sterile building.
On the morning of her eighteenth birthday, Joanne snapped, "Joee, you're eighteen years old today."
"Yes ma'am," Joee whispered. "You putting me out?"
"What? Why would I put you out? Unlike that slut mother of yours, you've not brought shame to me," Joanne had snapped, handing Joee a birthday card.
Joee's cheeks colored at her grandmother's hateful, hurtful words; her mother was no slut. But having no resources, no way to provide for herself, Joee bit her tongue. Quietly she thanked her grandmother for the card and the crisp one hundred dollar bill.
Joee took that one hundred dollars and signed up for two months membership at Shapes Wellness Center. Joanne heartily approved of this expenditure. She also approved of Joanne being able to drive herself to and from school, to and from the gym, so bought Joee a twelve year old Ford Focus.
"Tell you what," Joanne snapped. "Lose twenty pounds? I'll pay for a year membership to that gym."
Two weeks after her eighteenth birthday, Joee was able to afford a year's membership; Margaret O'Neil, Joanne's housekeeper found Joanne Breaux dead of a massive heart attack, lying in the now cold water of her bath.
In true Joanne Sarah Falgout Breaux fashion, Joanne had planned her own memorial service and funeral. Lynne Labbe, the funeral director did suggest that Joanne's head stone read 'Loving Wife, Mother and Grandmother.' Joee shook her head to the negative.
"She was none of those things," Joee said, dry eyed.
At the reading of the will, Margaret O'Neil screamed in outrage; Joanne's entire estate had been left to Joee. For the nine years Margaret had suffered under Joanne's tight-fisted and miserly control, Joanne had assured the middle aged woman that her estate would be left to her. Penny Jones, the executrix of Joanne Breaux's will showed Margaret that the will had been revised the day after Joee had come to live under Joanne's roof.
"Hmm, so she did love me," Joee thought, tuning out Margaret's threats and promises of a law suit.
Now, the nineteen year old red head stood in the lecture hall, surveying the available seats. She found one three rows up and quickly took it. Again, she cursed Shaley for bullying her into buying the tight top and the short skirt.
A few moments later, Joee looked up from her notes and tugged on the hem of her skirt. Looking around, she saw that the hall was packed but, thankfully, not one student was looking at her. Not one student was pointing, making disparaging comments about 'the fat bitch in her short skirt.' Joee saw another student scanning the few remaining seats.
The cute blonde looked disgusted; the only seats she could find were in the rear of the large hall. Joee looked to her right and saw the vacant seat next to her. A large football player was standing in front of another student on the ground level, blocking the blonde's view of the vacant seat.
Joee did not know the blonde's name; the Teacher's Aide took attendance by last name only, unless there were more than one student with the same last name. There were a few Breauxs, Broussards and Heberts.
"Bumps! Seat right here," Joee called out, waving to get the blonde's attention.
"Thanks," Bumps said, even as she frowned at the hated nickname.
"I am sorry; I, all I've ever heard them call you is 'Bumps;' I don't know your name," Joee admitted.
"It's Joanne," Joanne Pierce said.
"No kidding? Me too!" Joee smiled. "Hi Joanne. I'm Joanne."
Professor Charles Gendusa entered the hall, gasping and wheezing and mopping his sweating face. The man lumbered up the steps to his raised platform and nodded at his TA. The TA took attendance as Charles attempted to make himself comfortable behind his desk.
When the TA called twice for 'Zamick' and got no response, the pimple faced girl nodded and Dr. Gendusa began his lecture. Quite often, the man had to stop to clear his throat or catch his breath or to wipe his sweating face. Finally, he reminded them that their papers were due on Monday, then dismissed the class.
"OMG! That, that is such a cute outfit!" Joanne enthused when Joee stood up.
During the lecture, Joee had forgotten that she was wearing a snug top that hugged her 34E chest and a short skirt that showed off her pale, chubby thighs. Now, she tugged at the hem of her skirt.
"I mean, I thought the top is so cute, but with that skirt? And OMG where'd you get those shoes?" Joanne enthused as they joined the mob of students straining to exit the room.
"Babbage's," Joee said, naming the local, very exclusive department store.
"Huh!" Joanne said.
Even though she was not native to the area, Joanne knew the reputation of the exclusive department store. She had heard that a pair of jeans cost no less than a hundred bucks. One girl in her dorm claimed a tee shirt from the store cost seventy bucks.
"I'm going to Saladelight for lunch; join me?" Joee invited as they stepped out into the sweltering morning humidity.
""I wish," Joanne said. "But, I need to get to Algebra. See you Monday."
"Have a good weekend," Joee said and watched Joanne scurry away, cheap flip flops slapping the sidewalk.
Turning left, Joee made her way to the students' parking lot. Pulling her key fob from her purse, Joee smiled as her 2015 midnight black Shelby GT 350 Mustang gave a bright 'chirp.'
Through her attorney, Joee had settled with Margaret O'Neil. She'd given the woman five hundred thousand dollars, and Joanne's beloved Mercedes-Benz. She drove her staid, serviceable Ford Focus down to Boudreaux Ford and traded it in for the sleek, aggressive Mustang. Opening the car door, Joee waited a moment for the overheated air to rush out of the automobile before climbing in. She knew the two young men weren't gawking at her; they were admiring the car. In a rare show of bravado, Joee flashed the two young men a glimpse of her cotton covered crotch before swinging her chubby legs into the car and shutting the door..
After her turkey and cranberry salad lunch, Joee returned to campus and scampered to her Algebra class Professor Huxton again reminded everyone that the final exam was two weeks, two short weeks away. He reminded them that the time to make use of the math labs, of the tutoring was now, not the night before the exam. Joee was carrying a ninety eight in the class but resolved she would study extra hard the weekend before the exam.
After her Micro-Biology 110 class, Joee drove to her Shoreline Drive house. Buenos Noches Cleaners had been there; Joee smiled as she smelled the fresh clean scent of the building. Dashing upstairs, Joee entered her third floor suite; it had been her grandmother's room, and entered the walk-in closet. Gratefully, she shrugged out of the snug top and the short skirt. With one more curse directed at Shaley Greene, Joanne dropped the silk top and skirt into the 'Dry Cleaner's' bag and then unhooked her bra. She gave the bra a cautious sniff and determined she'd need to wash it before she could wear it again. Then, Joee vigorously rubbed her breasts. Briefly, Joee wondered about the size of Joanne's breasts; they seemed to be roughly the same height and shape.
Abruptly, Joee ceased and shimmied into her silk sleepshirt. She then jammed her feet into her fuzzy flip flop slippers and shuffled downstairs.
"How much is one cookie?" Joee had asked Shaley.
"Twenty crunches," Shaley had snapped.
"So two would be..." Joee mused.
"Forty abdominal crunches. Or twenty crunches, twenty pushups. Full pushups. All the way down, all the way up," SHaley said.
Joee dug two large, soft, gooey double chocolate chocolate chip cookies from the glass jar and put them onto a decorative plate. She then poured herself a glass of 2% milk and sat at the breakfast bar.
"Wonder if them being marijuana cookies would change that formula?" Joee giggled to herself as she chewed the first potent cookie.
She'd gotten hooked on the cookies and brownies while she and her mother battled the aggressive cancer. For the year she lived under her grandmother's vigilant eye, Joee had not indulged. Now, free of the shackles of Joanne Breaux, Joee indulged freely of marijuana and cannabis oil laced cookies.
Twenty minutes later, Joee sluggishly wiggled down from the barstool and made her way to the comfortable den. Steeling herself, Joee did twenty abdominal crunches then twenty pushups. Then, when she caught her breath, she wobbled to the bar and fixed herself a vodka and tonic.
Timothy Breaux had grown up in an alcoholic home so did not allow alcohol in his home. When she bought the house, Joanne had stocked the bar with several name-brand bottles of alcohol. She'd prepared herself a gin and tonic, taken one sip and declared it to be nasty.
When the antique grandfather clock chimed six pm, Joee dutifully prepared her dinner. Pam Broussard, the dietician from Shapes Wellness Center had taught Joee some delicious and low-calorie dishes. As the woman had said, 'Dieting does not mean starving. It just means eating sensibly.'
