Nude on a Bearskin Rug

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*Author’s Note: 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.

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Joanne ‘Joee’ Domaingue entered her World Economics class and looked around. She felt a little self-conscious wearing a mini-skirt and snug blouse for the first time in her life.

But Shaley Greene, her physical trainer had encouraged, bullied Joee into buying the outfit. Then the attractive blonde personal trainer had harangued Joee into wearing the outfit to school.

“You put some serious work into that body,” Shaley said. “Need get out there and flaunt it.”

Joee had put some serious work into her new body. She’d joined the Shapes Wellness Center with the one hundred dollars her grandmother had given her for her eighteenth birthday and had sweated, grunted, groaned and whined through each workout. Pam Broussard, the dietician had helped Joee select a sensible diet plan, one that was easily adhered to. All of the foods could be bought at the local Super One Foods grocery store, or the Piggly-Wiggly down the street.

That hundred dollars had bought her two months membership. But before the two months had run out, Joee was suddenly able to pay for a full year membership, a full membership and she did exactly that.

Joee still could not say ‘NO’ to the cookies, though. She could not say ‘NO’ to the cupcakes. So, Shaley made a deal with her. For every cookie that Joee stuffed into her mouth, she’d have to do ten abdominal crunches. For every cupcake, Joee would have to do ten crunches and ten pushups.

“How about a box of Tornadough doughnuts?” Joee asked.

“Twenty five crunches, twenty five pushups and ten full squats,” Shaley said. “Still think they worth it?”

“Um,” Joee had to think about it.

But in the eight months since her birthday, the four foot ten inch girl had gone from one hundred and eighty four pounds to one hundred and thirty pounds. The miniskirt, she was sure, was far too short; it showed off her pudgy thighs. The blouse was far too snug; it hugged her 34E breasts too tightly.

No one stopped their chatter as she entered the room. No one stopped and stared at her as she made her way to one of the few remaining seats in the large lecture hall. No one even nodded in greeting as she took a seat.

One young man did smirk slightly when Joee gasped and jerked the hem of her skirt down, to cover her cotton covered crotch.

The teacher’s aide was already present, chatting with a tall, well-built young man. Joee shook her head; the girl’s mannerisms were blatantly obvious. But the football player seemed oblivious to the TA’s clumsy flirtations.

Another girl came into the room and scanned the seats. Joee could see the consternation on the girl’s pretty face; the only available seats were in the rear of the room.

Joee didn’t know the girl’s name; she’d only heard the girl addressed as ‘Bumps.’

The teacher’s aide took attendance by last name, unless there were more than one student with the same last name. But Joee couldn’t think of the girl’s last name right now.

“Bumps, seat right here,” Joee called out, waving.

Bumps frowned at the nickname, but made her way to the seat three rows back from the front.

“Thanks,” she muttered.

“Welcome and I’m sorry,” Joee admitted. “I just don’t know your name. All I’ve ever heard them call you is Bumps.”

“It’s Joanne,” the girl said. “Joanne Pierce.”

“No kidding!” Joee said, smiling. “Me too!”

Professor Gendusa waddled in, huffing and sweating, even as the chilled air of the building. Again, he reminded them of their project that was due the following Monday.

“It’s thirty percent of your grade,” he said. “Think you’ll be fine without thirty percent of your grade? Fine, don’t hand it in.”

The class finally drew to a close. Joee slid her new laptop into the leather case and stood up.

“Oh, hey, nice!” Joanne complimented Joee.

“Huh?” Joee asked.

“The skirt. I mean, I saw the blouse and thought ‘oh what a cute top’ but with that skirt, and O.M.G. where’d you get those shoes?” Joanne asked as they stepped out of the lecture hall.

“Babbages,” Joee admitted as they walked down the hall.

In her three inch heels, Joee was now two inches taller than the four foot eleven inch Joanne. She did notice, they seemed to have the same body type. Joanne was also a little on the chunky side, with thick thighs sticking out of her frayed denim shorts and breasts that stretched the loose tee shirt. She had her long light blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail.

“And that top is such a pretty color on you,” Joanne enthused.

“Thanks; being a red head, it ain’t easy finding the right color,” Joee admitted.

She had calf length carrot orange hair, light brown eyes, and very pale skin. Her mother, also a red head, with very pale skin, had learned the importance of keeping her skin bursa escort covered and had impressed that onto Joee as well. Joee kept any exposed skin covered by a good layer of sun block. She had a spray bottle on the counter at home, and had another spray bottle in the console of her car. So there was just a very light smattering of freckles across her pug nose, along her high cheekbones.

“Where you heading to now?” Joee asked as they approached the front doors.

“Cafeteria,” Joanne said.

“Um, Thursday, ew, that’s that turkey goulash,” Joee said, making a face.

“Hey, got a meal card; eat what they put in front of you,” Joanne defended.

“I’m going to Saladelight; want to come?” Joee asked.

“Need to eat then run to the library,” Joanne reluctantly begged off.

They parted at the door, Joanne turning left toward the cafeteria, Joee turning right toward the student parking lot.

She pressed the key fob of her midnight black Shelby GT350 and smiled as a young man gawked. Short miniskirt or not, Joee knew he was gawking at the car, not her. In a rare flash of bravado, though, she did ‘accidentally’ flash the young man a glimpse of her cotton covered crotch as she climbed into the Mustang.

Joee ran a loving hand over the steering wheel of the car. Her mother would have loved the car; her mother had been absolutely crazy about Mustangs for as long as Joee could remember.

Ten years ago, Joanne Domaingue had played a Powerball Lottery and had hit all the numbers. After deciding to take the full cash-out, and after taxes, the woman still had twenty three point seven million dollars.

But the fifty nine year old woman would not forgive her only child, Katherine Domaingue for becoming pregnant out of wedlock. Katherine’s christening her daughter Joanne, after her grandmother did not soften Joanne’s heart.

Even the news that Katherine had been diagnosed with brain cancer did not persuade Joanne Domaingue to forgive her daughter for bringing shame to their family, for disgracing them.

Joee was seventeen when her mother lost the fight and suddenly found herself being introduced to her namesake by a St. Elizabeth Parish social worker.

“Said either I take you in, or you wind up in a foster home,” Joanne spat at the severely overweight child.

Part of her lottery winnings had gone into buying a four thousand square foot home on Shoreline Drive in Baylor Lake, Louisiana. Joee went from a one bedroom apartment to a small mansion. But she’d also gone from a loving home to a cold, unfeeling home.

“You’re eighteen years old today,” Joanne had snapped to the girl one morning.

“You putting me out now?” Joee asked in a whisper.

“What? No, unlike your mother, you’ve not embarrassed me yet,” Joanne snapped.

She handed the girl a birthday card. Inside of the card was a one hundred dollar bill. Joee used that one hundred dollars to join the Shapes Wellness Center, a move her grandmother grudgingly approved of.

Joanne even approved of Joee having an automobile so that she could drive to school, and then to the gym. Joanne bought the girl a brand new Lincoln SUV.

“You lose twenty pounds? I’ll get you a whole year membership to that place,” Joanne offered.

It was the maid that discovered Joanne in her bath, dead of a massive heart attack. Joee did not shed any tears upon learning of Joanne’s demise. She just continued to go to school, continued to go to the gym after school.

Lynne Labbe, the funeral director had suggested to the eighteen year old girl that Joanne Domaingue’s headstone be engraved with ‘beloved mother and grandmother.’

“But she was neither of those things,” Joee had said, dry eyed as she made the arrangements. “Just put her name and the dates, all right?”

At the reading of Joanne’s will, Joee never did warm to calling the woman ‘Grandmother’ Joee found out she was the sole heir. That news did upset Margaret O’Neil considerably; Margaret had been Joanne’s maid for nine years. Up until the moment Joee entered the home, Margaret had been assured by Joanne that she would inherit everything.

Penny Jones, the attorney and executrix of the estate stoically showed the bitterly complaining woman the will. It had been revised the day after Joee had moved into the grandmother’s home.

“So she did love me,” Joee thought, tuning out Margaret’s threats of lawsuit.

Through Penny, Joee did offer Margaret a settlement of one million dollars and Joanne’s 2015 Mercedes-Benz. For herself, Joee traded in the Lincoln SUV for the sleek Shelby Mustang

Now, Joee drove the Mustang to the trendy salad restaurant. After considering the menu, she finally selected a turkey and cranberry salad, with a toasted pecan vinaigrette.

“And to drink?” the waitress asked.

“Oh, the sparkling water, with a lime, please,” Joee said.

“Often as I eat here, you ought know that by now,” Joee did think to herself as the girl walked away.

She drove her car back to the campus of the University of Louisiana bursa escort bayan at DeGarde and tried to find a parking spot close to her next building. Joee grabbed her Algebra textbook and strolled to her next class. With a shiver of excitement, she did notice a handsome young man checking her out as she strode in her miniskirt.

“The math labs are available now,” Professor Huxton said in his nasally whine as he marched up and down the aisles, slapping down the latest test papers. “The time to use them is now, not the night before your final exam, which is, by the way, exactly two weeks from today.”

After the class, Joee drove home to the Shoreline Drive home. Gratefully, she wiggled out of her top and skirt and sighed in relief as she unhooked her bra. She gave her breasts a quick rub; the bra was a new one; she’d not fully broken it in yet. Joee did wonder what size Joanne Pierce wore; they seemed to be close to the same size.

She quit rubbing her breasts and pulled on a long tee shirt. Then she padded to her kitchen.

A cookie was ten crunches. Joee did giggle and wonder how many crunches a marijuana cookie was. She did fail to mention that little fact to Shaley.

When Katherine had been diagnosed with the cancer, Dr. Farbacher had told them that medical marijuana was not yet legal in Louisiana. Then the man did whisper to Katherine how to get around the legal hurdles. Katherine had also established a connection with their next-door neighbor. The neighbor had a pipeline to someone in Seattle, Washington that sent him some good weed and some very potent vials of cannabis oil.

Eating a chocolate chocolate chip cookie with marijuana baked in it gave Katherine some relief. Eating a chocolate chocolate chip cookie with some marijuana and a few drops of cannabis oil baked into it actually made Katherine giggle.

Joee kept the connection with the former next door neighbor. She stopped by, usually once every two or three weeks.

She pulled one of the large, thick, chewy cookies from the clear glass cookie jar on the counter. She poured herself a glass of low fat milk and sat at the counter and ate the cookie.

A little while later, Joee wiggled down from the stool and lethargically made her way to the living room. She did ten abdominal crunches in rapid succession, then lay against the couch, huffing and puffing. She then rewarded herself with another cookie.

Monday, Joee entered her World Economics class, dressed in another miniskirt and blouse. Joanne smiled and motioned to the seat next to her.

“Hey, how was your weekend?” Joee asked.

“Live in Murphy; you tell me,” Joanne said.

As they chatted, Joee learned that Joanne detested being called ‘Jo’ and would not answer to it. Joanne nodded understanding when Joee explained that she was named after her grandmother, so had been nicknamed ‘Joee’ by her mother.

Joanne admired the slick plastic covered report Joee had prepared for her final project. Joee tapped the plastic binding.

“Mom said, she had this professor? Would stand at the top of the stairs and drop the reports. Ones that made it all the way to the bottom? He didn’t even read. He just gave them all A’s, figuring that if they were that heavy? They were probably pretty good,” Joee explained.

“Gendusa does that?” Joanne asked, light blue eyes open wide.

“Huh? No, I don’t know,” Joee said, brushing her long red hair back with her hand. “Just, ever since my Mom told me that? Put all my reports in slick plastic; make them slide.”

After collecting the reports, Professor Gendusa started talking about the final exam. Joee and Joanne both took notes as the man huffed and puffed and wheezed his way through the lecture.

“Monday, um, red beans and rice, yeah, think I’ll eat in the cafeteria today,” Joee said as they left the classroom.

Over the surprisingly good red beans and rice, Joee learned that this was Joanne’s first semester at U.L.D. She was there on a hardship scholarship; had missed last semester because there had been no hardship scholarships available.

“Guess someone dropped out,” Joanne said. “But O.M.G! I was so God damned glad get out of Stepping Stone!”

“Yeah, someone did drop out,” Joee giggled. “Me.”

“What? You were a hardship?” Joanne asked, looking at the well-made blouse Joee was wearing.

Joanne had been in DeGarde only a few months, but had been there long enough to know that Babbage’s was an exclusive department store. She’d not been inside the gleaming white building, but Joanne had heard some of her Murphy dorm mates saying they couldn’t afford the socks there.

“You win the lottery?” Joanne quipped.

“Nope, my grandmother did,” Joee shrugged.

“Was one of the few girls graduated from JFK in Stepping Stone, Hell, think I was the only graduated and not pregnant,” Joanne said as they walked outside in the humid air.

“So, why they call you ‘Bumps’ anyway?” Joee asked.

“Puberty hits?” Joanne said. “Face breaks out, God it was horrible! Hardly see my face escort bursa at all.”

“God I know!” Joee agreed, remembering her own battle with acne.

“And at the same time? These start coming in,” Joanne said and pointed to her 34E chest. “God damned ass hole Trey Martinez says, ‘Hey, Joanne’s got bumps everywhere!'”

“Oh no!” Joee said.

“And of course, who’s first ass hole I see getting here? Trey ‘I can throw a football so I think I’m some kind of hot shit’ Martinez,” Joanne spat bitterly.

They parted ways and Joee went to her Algebra class. Again, Professor Huxton reminded them of the math lab. Joee had a 98 in his class but did vow to study extra hard for the exam.

“Taiwan is not recognized by the United Nations as being a country,” Professor Gendusa huffed and puffed the Friday before Finals Week started. “China claims it has sovereign rights over the country and the UN refuses to take on the world’s second largest economy.”

“What? What’s he talking about? That wasn’t in the last chapter,” Joanne hissed to Joee.

“One student. One student handed in a brilliant proposal,” Professor Gendusa declared, holding a report bound in a slick plastic binder.

“Shit!” Joee squeaked.

“The rest of you? If I wanted to read Proust’s interpretations of how to stimulate the world’s markets, I would have read his book, not wait for you to hand in a book report on it,” the man said harshly.

Joee wanted to sink under her desk as Professor Gendusa put her binder in front of her. He smiled, face shiny with sweat. She smiled weakly at him.

“Since Taiwan is too small a nation to use aggressive military actions, Ms. Domaingue suggested instead that Taiwan should simply bankrupt China’s economy, much in the same way it nearly happened here. Buy up as much of their currency as possible, then sell short. Other investors will see the sudden dump and think China’s currency is failing and will dump their own holdings. When China realizes it can’t afford to pay anything, Taiwan will then offer to bail them out, in exchange for their independence.”

“How’d you come up with that shit?” Joanne asked as they stepped out of the classroom.

“Honestly?” Joee asked.

“No Joee!” Joanne said. “Lie to me, please.”

“Put too much weed in a batch of brownies, ate half the pan and was so fucked up I just started writing,” Joee admitted.

“What?” Joanne giggled.

When I read what I’d written, used a bunch of references to back it all up,” Joee shrugged.

“Put it in a real slippery plastic binder and get a hundred in the class,” Joanne giggled. “Joee Domaingue, you’re a genius!”

“Going to Saladelights; come with me?” Joee begged.

“Yeah, why not?” Joanne said. “I think I can afford that.”

“My treat,” Joee insisted.

Joanne did enjoy the salad; Friday at the ULD cafeteria was usually less than palatable. She remarked, as they drove back to the campus, that Saladelight seemed pretty proud of their salads, though.

“Fifteen bucks? Then another four add salmon?” Joanne shook her head in disapproval.

“So, what class you got now?” Joee asked when she found a good parking spot.

“Colonial History, then I’m done until Monday,” Joanne said.

“Exam’s at eight,” Joee needlessly reminded Joanne.

They walked away from the parking lot. Joee stopped at the fork that would separate their paths.

“You, uh, why you don’t grab your book; we’ll study together?” she asked.

“Huh?” Joanne asked.

“Grab, after you get out of History, grab your books. We’ll go to my house and study the whole weekend,” Joee begged.

They agreed to meet at Murphy dorm and Joee happily jogged to her Algebra class.

Joanne was sitting in front of Murphy dormitory, ignoring a preening, posturing African-American boy that was trying to chat with her. Joee pulled up in the Mustang and honked her horn, startling the young man.

“Hey, Joanne, grab your dirty clothes, huh?” Joee suggested.

“Aw, your name Joanne? Think I call you Jo, know what I’m saying?” the young man smiled what he believed was a seductive smile.

Joanne ignored him, ducked inside and ran up the three flights of stairs to her cramped dorm room.

Inside the room, Martina, Joanne’s severely overweight roommate squealed when Joanne burst into the room. Joanne caught the sight of Martina’s profuse thicket of brown pubic hair and the thick vibrator sticking out of Martina’s bulging pussy lips.

Joanne said nothing as she quickly gathered her laundry bag from the closet. She remembered to also grab her shower bag; her toothbrush was in the bag. Then, Joanne dashed back out of the room.

Martina sniffled in shame as she pulled the still loudly buzzing vibrator from her plump pussy.

“O.M.G; think I’m going puke,” Joanne thought as she scampered back down the stairs.

Joee gave another honk of her horn, making the young African-American man jump. Then they roared away from the college dormitory.

Joanne’s eyes opened wide when Joee pulled up to the gate. She looked around as the guard waved and opened the gate for the black Mustang. All the way to the house, Joanne’s head swiveled back and forth, looking at the opulent, ostentatious homes.

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