*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.
Also, this story has been written using Cajun dialect. If this style of speech displeases you? Aw then cher, what you do, is you hit that backspace key yeah. That you don't got read it no.
*****
Jimmy Falgout lolled in his bed, ice pack on his knee. He had taken a pain reliever twenty minutes earlier; couldn't even remember the name of the pill. But he could remember a time that he'd not been able to stand having the cold ice pack on his knee for longer than a few minutes at a time.
Now, he was able to fall asleep with the small bag on his leg. Which usually meant waking up with a small puddle soaking into his mattress. He now slept with a rubber sheet protecting his mattress; every now and then the puddle of cool water would cause him to urinate on himself in the night.
The pain reliever, the prescription strength muscle relaxer had fogged his thinking. The twenty year old man could not remember how long he'd been very nearly a prisoner in his own bed. Ever since the accident on the off-shore oil rig, though, he'd been confined to a bed. The few respites were when Cindy drove him to Lafayette General for another checkup.
Dr. Brenda Hutchenson said he was healing fine; he was right on track to return to work in a few weeks. The diminutive woman just waved off Jimmy's concerns when he pointed out that he still could not bend his knee.
"How I'm going work can't even walk?" Jimmy demanded.
"Time takes time, Mr. Falgout," the woman responded tersely.
Jimmy stretched in the bed and reached down to check the ice pack. So far, it was not leaking, but right now, it was full of fresh ice cubes. They'd not begun to melt yet.
"Hey," Cindy said, appearing in his doorway.
Jimmy looked at his sister. The eighteen year old girl was, to Jimmy's eyes, the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. She had long brown hair that reached down to the backs of her thighs, one heavy eyebrow that went over both eyes, large round brown eyes, a button nose and pouting lips on a round, lightly tanned face.
She stood five feet, two inches tall, and weighed one hundred and thirty pounds. She considered herself fat, but Jimmy considered her to be perfect. None of the weight had managed to reach her breasts; she sported a 32B chest, a fact that she often complained about. But again, Jimmy considered her to be perfect. Much of her weight was in her cute bubble butt and thick thighs and she hated her bubble butt and thick thighs.
"Hey," Jimmy smiled at her as she peered into his room.
She was wearing a halter top, which exposed her cute belly and belly button and tanned arms. Her shorts were far too short for her to wear outside, but since they were in their apartment, Jimmy said nothing, just admired her smooth tanned legs.
He smirked as she bent slightly, squinting. She pretended to try to peer up the gaping leg of his flannel shorts. Jimmy actually lifted the left leg, flashing her his limp cock and balls.
Had Jimmy not been slightly fogged, slightly buzzing on the muscle relaxer, he would have never done this. But he smiled at Cindy's surprised expression. His smile widened as she covered her mouth and let out a giggle.
"Guess what? Guy next door?" Cindy said, then looked around to make sure they were alone.
"Next door? Arnaud's old apartment?" Jimmy asked.
"Uh huh," Cindy agreed. "Anyway, was telling him 'bout your leg?"
"Cindy, you went out? Dressed like that?" Jimmy asked, a tinge of anger in his voice.
"Right next door; Jesus," Cindy said, rolling her eyes.
"Momma asked me look after you," Jimmy complained.
"Anyway, think he's gay yeah; didn't even look at me," Cindy said.
"Still. Babineaux? Right across? Want him seeing that?" Jimmy pointed out.
"Gross!" Cindy agreed, eyes opening wide.
"Anyway, guy next door, telling him 'bout my leg," Jimmy said, waving his hand impatiently.
"Said don't take no seven and a half weeks for a sprained knee get better, need see 'bout seeing you another doctor yeah," Cindy said.
"But Dr. Hutchenson's only one Workman's Comp cleared see me," Jimmy said.
"Guy? Oh, that his name yeah, Guy Correcci, anyway, he a videographer," Cindy said.
"A what? What that is, a videographer?" Jimmy asked.
"Does movies, but on a video camera, not no movie camera," Cindy said. "And he was doing one on medical mix-ups and said we need go see you another doctor, get us a second opinion yeah."
"And Workman's Comp said I do that, I'm be disqualified," Jimmy argued.
"Anyway, Guy said he might could help us yeah," Cindy said. "I bring him see you?"
"Yeah, I guess," Jimmy said, shrugging his shoulders.
Cindy turned and Jimmy looked at her shapely rear end. His fogged brain sent a command to his mouth before he could stop himself.
"God damn, that is the nicest butt," Jimmy exclaimed, looking at her luscious butt cheeks sticking out the bottoms of her shorts.
"Too big," Cindy declared.
"Just right," Jimmy countered, actually feeling a stirring in his crotch.
Cindy's assessment of Guy Correcci seemed correct. The man paid scant attention to Cindy, but did give a noticeable glance to Jimmy's crotch as he pranced around the bed. He extended his hand.
"Hi," he drawled. Guy Correcci. It's actually Guissepi, but you know?"
"Great to meet you," Jimmy said, wishing he had at least pulled a tee shirt on over his muscular chest and abdomen.
"Listen, Cindy was telling me about your leg? Your knee, right? And I've got a doctor friend? In Baton Rouge?" Guy said.
Jimmy found Guy's habit of ending every sentence with a question annoying. But for Cindy's sake, he was polite to Guy. As beautiful as Jimmy thought his sister was, she seemed almost incapable of making friends. Her only true friend was an equally chubby, equally short girl, Wanda Bercegay. The nineteen year old blonde stood only five feet one, but weighed one hundred and forty seven pounds, most of the excess weight in her breasts and buttocks.
So Jimmy was polite as Cindy's new friend simpered and lisped through a far too detailed explanation of his documentary on medical mishaps and medical fraud.
"Anyway, we use my name? We get you checked out by my doctor friend and Workman's Comp never finds out you went behind their back?" Guy continued.
"First thing you said makes any sense," Jimmy blurted out.
"Oh, don't worry about hurting my feelings," Guy tittered, actually resting a soft, clammy hand on Jimmy's naked shoulder. "Believe me, I've been called every name in the book, you know?"
