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  #151  
Old 04-24-2016, 08:38 AM
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Nice touch with the Purple Rain.
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  #152  
Old 04-25-2016, 10:38 PM
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Default Palin in Comparison -- Part 3

Apologies for having been away for a while as well as for the long build-up to this story. Folks have fairly criticized these tales before for being big on the lead in and then short on the stripping -- all hat and no cattle if you will. I hope to do better here. That said, this is likely the last installment until the weekend (at the earliest) due to some unforeseen travel. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless and will work on writing the installments that follow to a standard that will - if I succeed - not again disappoint.

* * *

"Let's go boys, we don't have all day," Mrs. Parnell chided, as Will and his friends gathered their backpacks and gym bags.

It was 5:00 am the morning of "Political Awareness Day" and Danielle, although still questioning the wisdom of permitting Will to have his sleep over the evening before, was feeling better after last night's bath and a restful sleep. Her plan now was to drop Will and his friends at crew practice in Anacostia (from where a bus would return them to school), hit the gym herself and then make her way over to Gonzaga to shower and change before taking the reins of the day's planned "discussion" between the washed up Sarah Palin and the effectively useless Emily Duncan. She smiled inwardly at how she planned to dominate the two women with her poise, intellect and -- most of all -- beauty.

Mrs. Parnell likewise grinned at having prevailed upon the trustees the year before to finance the construction within the school's four walls of what was essentially a private club for the Mothers' Guild executive officers -- of which she now was one. What formerly had been rooms reserved for such nerdy pursuits as the chess and math teams had been taken down to the studs and rebuilt as a small paneled library, kitchenette and two rather large offices -- each with its own bathroom and shower -- one for the guild's president and one for its current vice president -- Danielle Marie Parnell.

"Move over Quentin," Malcolm Biggs' voice announced pulling Danielle from her thoughts of a late morning shower to the task at hand of getting these savages to practice, "I can't get my bag over your seat."

"Okay, okay . . . give me a minute would ya' man," came Quentin's tired response, "I'm still half asleep."

"Be careful back there boys," Danielle snapped testily, gesturing over her shoulder at a garment bag hanging from a hook above one of the Range Rover's passenger side rear windows, "I don't need my clothes getting wrinkled by your shenanigans."

To the boys' delight, Will's mom was this morning wearing a skin tight pair of black yoga pants, trainers and a fitted cotton tank top due to her heading off to the gym once she dropped them at practice. Clearly the clothes she was going to change into for the day were hanging in that bag.

"Will honey," Danielle continued, finally having gotten his friends into the car as she pulled out of her driveway in the darkness toward DC, "do mommy a favor and take her garment bag and that little suitcase with you to practice. I'm going to Equinox after I drop you boys off and I'd rather get ready for the assembly in my office at school than in the locker room at the gym."

"But mom . . . ," Will protested annoyed again at his mother's continuing use of the word "mommy" in front of his friends but more so at imagining the hassle of carrying not only his own stuff, but now his mother's, to practice and then on the bus back to school.

"But nothing young man," the harsh response came, "I'm not asking you . . . I'm telling you. Take my clothes to my office and hang them on my office door so that I may change into them when I get to school. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes mom," came the boy's defeated response.

By that point, with a fairly long car ride before ahead before they arrived at practice, Quentin and Malcolm -- along with Christian Tabash -- had already fallen back asleep. Calum Duncan on the other hand was too charged up for slumber. He had been thinking all night about how he might be able to use his "film" to take down Will's snob of a mom. One thing was for sure, he couldn't imagine his day starting much better than it had this morning. That is, until he heard the conversation Will had just finished with his mother.

* * *

After getting dropped off at the boat house, powering through their morning practice on the river, hitting the showers and changing into their clothes for school -- a blazer and tie day due to the Political Awareness Day presentation scheduled for the afternoon -- Will and his friends finally boarded the bus to head to Gonzaga and morning class. As was often the case, practice had run a bit long so the team would need to hustle once the bus pulled up to the school to permit them to make it to class on time and avoid "JUG." The acronym, which humorously stood for Judgement under God, represented what was the equivalent of detention. And Will Parnell was worried.

"I can't believe my mom needs me to drop off her stupid stuff in the Mothers' Guild lounge," he complained to his compatriots, continuing, "I've got math as my first class and it's all the way across campus -- I'm totally going to get JUG which will make my mom - who caused it in the first place - that much more pissed."

This wouldn't be the first time that following his mother's directions for had caused the young rower to be subjected to her wrath due to their unintended consequences.

"Walk your little sister to the bus do you hear me," Will remembered Danielle saying recently only to have hell to pay when after doing so he missed his own bus and was late for school.

Although Will Parnell loved his mom without question, he on more than one occasion wished that she could, for once, be the one who suffered some consequences.

"Hey Parnell," came Calum Duncan's voice interrupting Will's panic attack. "I've got Brother Joshua's history class and it's right next to the lounge -- I can drop your mom's outfit in her office and still make it to class with time to spare."

Feeling like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, Will Parnell handed his mother's garment bag as well as the small duffle she had given him off to Calum Duncan.

"You da' man Cal," enthused Will clueless as to the motivation for his friend's magnanimity, "just make sure it gets there okay."

"No problem buddy," came the Duncan boy's smiling reply, "and don't worry -- what could possibly go wrong . . ."

Knowing full well the answer he planned for his own question, Calum Duncan hustled from the crew team bus into the school's hallways so as to give himself as much time as possible for his intended sabotage. To his delight, there was no answer when he softly knocked on the door to the Mother's Guild lounge. To his even greater joy -- and throwing fuel on the fire of his plan to finally get back at Mrs. Parnell -- when he entered the lounge the first thing he spotted was a second garment bag, this one hanging on the door to the Mothers' Guild President's office. On it, written in bold black letters across a piece of masking tape were the words "Governor Palin's suit -- do not remove."

Knowing that Gonzaga's student body would give anything to see the converse of that message - namely the removal of the stunning stateswoman's suit -- the mischievous teen decided to raise the stakes of his already risky gambit. Quickly hanging Danielle's suit on the door to her office, Cal Duncan grabbed a pair of scissors that was sitting on her desk, unzipped the garment bag hanging on the President's door, and immediately went to work weakening the seams of Governor Palin's fancy suit and blouse.

Unfortunately, as soon as he finished that task and placed the bag -- to all appearances untouched -- back where he found it, the door to the lounge opened from the outside heralding the entrance of none other than the former Governor of Alaska and her good friend -- the fabulously fit Ellie Kerr.

Kicking himself for not turning first to Will's mom's clothes which remained untouched, Calum hid from sight behind one of the opulent couches in the lounge and then, as the two women walked across the room toward the office door upon
which Ms. Palin's now modified outfit hung, he stealthily sneaked out through the still closing main door and into the crowded hallway.

* * *

"I want to apologize again about my not moderating this thing," a contrite Ellie Kerr said to her friend Sarah as the latter prepared to change from her street clothes into the suit that she had her assistant ensure was waiting for her.

"No problem," replied the Governor, "it sounds like that friend of yours has the entire board wrapped around her highly manicured little pinkie -- even Stuart."

"Don't get me started," replied a visibly annoyed Mrs. Kerr, "ever since that little tease's son and she got here she's been leading my idiot of a husband -- along with Adam Hess and the rest of these morons on the board -- by their noses."

"Or by something else," offered Mrs. Palin laughing.

Not amused, Ellie raged on, "for instance this entire Mothers' Guild suite was her brainchild -- can you believe it! Shaking that little bottom of hers in front of the male population of this place -- men and boys alike -- she loves it. And what's more she loves lording it over me and every other wife, mother or girlfriend in her path. Just once I'd like to see that arrogant snob get hers."

Smiling again at her upset friend Sara Palin wrested a scissors from her purse and -- pointing at the garment bag hanging on the door across the lounge -- laughed, "well I think I know just how we can make that happen."

And then, carefully unzipping the very fancy Louis Vuitton garment bag -- upon which in embossed gold letters appeared the words Danielle M. Parnell, Esq. -- Ellie Kerr and the one-time candidate for Vice President of the United States -- quickly went to work weakening the seams of the contents of said bag -- namely, Mrs. Parnell's fancy, black, Prada leather suit. They were indeed -- going rogue!
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  #153  
Old 04-26-2016, 01:00 AM
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Originally Posted by Chasmo View Post
Folks have fairly criticized these tales before for being big on the lead in and then short on the stripping -- all hat and no cattle if you will. I hope to do better here. That said, this is likely the last installment until the weekend (at the earliest) due to some unforeseen travel. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless and will work on writing the installments that follow to a standard that will - if I succeed - not again disappoint.
I know authors thrive on feedback, but commenters thrive on knowing their comments made a difference, so thanks

And I look forward to plenty of cattle!
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  #154  
Old 05-19-2016, 08:09 PM
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Default Palin in Comparison -- Part 4

Sorry for the long delay. It's been a combination of travel and writer's block. This part is the bridge to what I hope will be a grand finale. I hope that you enjoy

* * *
Having dropped her son and his rowing mates off at practice and completed her daily workout at the Washington, DC, Ritz-Carlton enshrined and highly fashionable Equinox Health Club, Danielle Parnell was looking forward to the short drive across town to Gonzaga High School where, thanks to her very keenly refined powers of "persuasion," a private office suite with its own very private shower awaited her. To that end, and once she was done stretching her taxed but taut muscles on a mat that gave all interested observers a clear view of her efforts, the fabulously fit diva veritably strutted through the various and sundry weight machines, ellipticals, treadmills, ergometers and other exercise equipment, all the while reveling in the male eyes that followed her lustfully and the female ones staring daggers.

What she hadn't expected as she made her way out of the gym was to see Emily Duncan in a grey cotton sweat-suit -- that looked as if it had jumped off a 1950s men's fitness catalog -- huffing and puffing away with a personal trainer. Cognizant of said trainer training his eyes on her departing posterior, Danielle quickly turned in her neon Nikes to take him and his panting patron down a peg or two.

"Perhaps if you spent less time staring at my ass, and more time exercising hers the two of you would have more success," the uber-MILF loudly chided the fit young man whose name tag merely read "Zeke."

Stunned both by being busted and by the sharp rebuke thrown his way by the sexy but perennially snooty club regular, Zeke merely stood slacked jawed and humiliated.

"Nothing to say, have we," queried Danielle loving the power she was exercising over the cowed coach, "I didn't think so. And Emily dear, you should really take it easy, I wouldn't want you to have a heart attack before the two of us go a few rounds on stage this afternoon."

And then, so that anyone within earshot could hear her, the saucy solicitor thrust out her spectacular chest, moved her bejeweled hand to her sexily cocked hip and with finality continued "of course, the outcome there will be no different there than here sweetie -- this will always beat that!"

Self-satisfied as always, and with an imperious sneer on her otherwise beautiful face, Danielle Marie Parnell took her leave again of the embarrassed Emily Duncan.

"I'm so sorry Mrs. Duncan," pleaded Zeke who at last had found his voice, "I swear I wasn't staring at her . . . really. And you're doing a great job today with your workout."

Humiliated not only by Danielle's direct attack but by the whipsaw effect of Zeke's pathetic attempt to hide his own lust for Little Ms. Perfect coupled with his applauding Emily's own futile huffing and puffing, Mrs. Emily Duncan didn't even respond to the young trainer. Instead, she imagined what it would be like for Danielle to be the one embarrassed for once, to be the object of strangers' laughter and derision, to want to run and hide while someone else -- ideally Emily herself -- did the tormenting. How wonderful would that be she thought to herself. Soon she would know.

* * *
The Gonzaga High School auditorium was a hive of activity. Nearly all the school's 975 or so young male students had already found their seats as scores of parents, teachers, administrators and clergy, and a smattering of news personnel -- both print and TV -- filed in. The stage itself looked no less impressive than any forum used for the presidential debates that had been held around the country in this election year.

Some 100 feet or more across, and with a semicircular bump-out that extended into the audience, it was large enough to host a Broadway production and, given the quality and sophistication of the sets that now adorned it, it certainly met a Broadway standard. A bright blue carpet with large white stars at its border covered the entirety of the stage's wooden floored surface. Where the floor pushed out into the crowd -- the otherwise deep blue field of the carpet was interrupted by the image of a bald eagle holding an American flag in one claw and arrows in the other that was sewn into the rich navy carpet. Framing the patriot emblem were two large comfortable arm-chairs where each of Governor Palin and Emily Duncan would sit while her adversary held the floor.

In between the chairs and facing directly out into the audience sat a large, clear, Lucite desk from behind which Danielle Marie Parnell would moderate the women's discussion. A laptop containing files with Mrs. Parnell's notes and a copy of her script was the desk's only adornment. Atop the run of the stage, along either side of the main attraction, were seats for members of the Mothers' Guild -- including Katherine Wray, Rachel Miras and Quentin's mom, Susan Kayser -- along with a few select teachers and students. In a semi-circle behind the two main chairs and bisected by Danielle's massive desk sat seats for the high school trustees and their wives among who were Ellie Kerr and Rebecca Ross.

As a backdrop to all of this, were two massive floor to ceiling screens -- each nearly 50 feet long and 35 feet high -- with one now showing the high school's purple and white crest and the other, in shining silver letters, the words "Welcome to Political Awareness Day" superimposed upon the computerized image of a waving American flag. The screens were intended during the course of the discussion to show various exhibits that Mrs. Duncan and Governor Palin had provided to help emphasize some of their planned points as well as alternatively to project for those seated in the back of the auditorium a close up of whoever the speaker may be. Needless to say, the afternoon had all the earmarks of what was to be quite a production.

Watching the crowd settle in from the state-of-the-art control booth high atop a catwalk toward the rear of the auditorium, Calum Duncan, Will Parnell and Brother Joshua DiSoto, the Jesuit mentor for the school's A/V club, were pinning down the final details for when lights would be dimmed and raised, music would be queued, images would be projected on the screens and so forth.

"Now remember Mr. Parnell," began the affable monk addressing Will by name but speaking to both him and Calum, after I use the PA system here to introduce Governor Palin and your moms, Calum is going to take his seat on stage and I'm going to head down to the audience to sit with the other faculty members. It will be up to you to make sure all of the transitions go smoothly here -- and that the list of questions and other information is sent to the laptop on your mom's desk -- but if you remember what we practiced it shouldn't be a problem. Are you ready?"

But before Will -- who was actually quite nervous about the task ahead -- could even speak, Calum Duncan intervened.

"You know, brother Josh," he began with a completely false sense of chivalry, "I've had a lot more experience up here than Will and this assembly is pretty important . . . maybe I should run things this time."

"What do you think Will," the jolly Jesuit responded, "is that okay with you?"

More relieved than he could ever have imagined, Will Parnell eagerly shook his head in the affirmative.

"Okay then, Calum -- you're in charge and Will -- you should head down and take Calum's seat on stage right behind where your mom will be."

* * *

As Will made his way down to the stage, the three women of the hour -- the local two of whom had only made their Alaskan visitor's acquaintance moments before -- waited backstage for their introduction by Brother Joshua. During that brief wait it became eminently clear that the day's two peacocks -- namely Governor Palin and Mrs. Parnell -- had no love lost between them. The former, basking in her national political celebrity, resented the latter for displacing her friend Ellie Kerr as the moderator. That said, her resentment was mollified substantially by the knowledge that the local tease with whom she had to share the stage could, and hopefully would, quite literally, come apart at the seams at any moment. Mrs. Parnell on the other hand, was piqued beyond reckoning that everyone around her -- including that imbecile Duncan -- appeared to be fawning over Sarah Palin.


"Let's see where their heads turn once we get on stage," she smiled to herself. "After I steal the attention of every man and boy here I'm going to slowly and mercilessly tear these two losers to shreds." If only she had known that Calum Duncan -- who also had a grand plan for Danielle -- had already given her a head start on "shredding" Governor Palin.


Meanwhile, despite being star-struck, Emily Duncan was trying her best to engage the former Governor in some civil discourse before the announcement. To her great distress, however, Mrs. Palin was having none of it. At best she was utterly apathetic about Emily's presence but, as so often occurred when Mrs. Duncan was involved, the Alaskan beauty's thoughts about the local lawyer were -- to the extent they existed at all -- closer to disdain. The Governor's focus was on figuratively "knocking out" Danielle Parnell who clearly shared the same feelings for her. Thus it was not surprising that in those last few moments before they took the stage, like two prize fighters about to step into the ring, each of the alphas took serious stock of the other.

Standing in 4.75" navy blue, leather metalipp Christian Louboutin pumps -- with a silver heel and toe cap -- from which her toned, tanned calves extended up to the flared bottom of a navy blue, pleated, Fendi skirt that sat just atop her knees, the 52 year old Sarah Palin was a complete stunner. Tucked tightly into the waist of that skirt was a very fitted, red, cotton, sleeveless Elie Tahari blouse the collar of which was opened to the cleave in between the ex-Governor's ample bosom.

Atop that blouse Mrs. Palin wore a very well-pressed cotton, white bolero jacket, also by Tahari. Her brown hair was blown out beautifully and her natural toned make-up had been artfully applied by her style team. With a diamond, ruby and sapphire encrusted American flag hanging from a silver necklace around her wrinkle free neck, Sarah Louise Palin looked every inch the All-American MILF she believed herself to be.

Mrs. Danielle Parnell, the diva of Davidson, was bedecked head to toe in Prada. With an eye to dominating both that “washed up Alaskan political hack” and her own pathetically disheveled neighbor from Davidson, Mrs. Parnell had cheekily chosen to wear an incredibly fitted black, leather Prada suit for the occasion.

The ultra-snug pencil skirt, which ended right above her exquisitely crafted calves, and which had a high slit in the back that permitted her to purposefully stalk the stage, cupped her chiseled ass like a glove. It was fastened on each side by a silver zipper that was both functional and fashion-forward so as not to interfere with the smooth surface of the leather that encased her mouth-wateringly contoured bottom.

A three-quarter sleeved leather bolero blazer, that stopped just below Danielle's trim waist (and thereby afforded all a glimpse of her taut tan midsection whenever she reached up or bent over) was held together only by two large black buttons in the front. Its wide lapelled spread collar -- broadly open from her supple neck down to the swells of her pert décolletage -- gave no small amount of credence to the perfection of her well exercised body. A high collared but translucent, backless camisole -- just a dickey really given the tightness of her jacket -- helped lessen the severity of the look to one of a very, sexy, stern librarian rather than an outright dominatrix.

As for accessories, from the 5" suede, burgundy, Prada peep-toe heels that held her immaculately pedicured size five-and-one-half feet, to the burgundy framed cat-eye Prada glasses that sat across the bridge of her perfect nose, Danielle was all business.

Finally, with her glorious mane done up in a tight bun on her head, lipstick that matched the burgundy of her shoes and glasses, pearl drop earrings and a subdued but natural hue of make-up, Danielle Marie Parnell was a perfect vision of her sexy authoritarian self.

Although neither of her two stage mates paid her much mind, Emily Duncan -- who was very sensibly dressed in a JC Penny navy blue rayon suit, white blouse and comfortable navy shoes with a 2" heel -- was naught but a bundle of nerves. Having been humiliated by Danielle both the prior night at the Mothers' Guild meeting and this morning at the gym had precipitated a giant crisis of confidence for the poor woman as well as an onslaught of anxiety.

Thankfully she had remembered her anti-anxiety medication, water soluble pills that she had just surreptitiously dropped into a glass water pitcher -- sitting directly behind a card with her name on it -- that would soon be set out for her on stage. The drugs packed an incredibly powerful punch, but having been on them for quite some time, and given her current level of stress, she knew they would help her settle in comfortably but focused in respect of what laid ahead.
Well -- they would have helped her settle in and focus if in fact the water pitcher behind her name card had belonged to her. In fact, Mrs. Duncan's pitcher was the one sitting directly in front of that card. The pitcher behind it -- the one into which Emily had dropped her powerful anti-anxiety medication -- belonged to Mrs. Danielle Marie Parnell.

* * *

As Calum dimmed the house lights and a spotlight focused on center stage, Brother Joshua's deep, disembodied voice boomed out from the public address system, "ladies and gentlemen, students, parents, teachers and invited guests, welcome to Gonzaga High School's annual Political Awareness Day. If you'd kindly turn your attention to center stage I'd like to introduce to you today's participants as well as our moderator. I'd ask that you refrain from your applause until all three women have come on stage. Joining us from Juneau, Alaska, the former Governor of that great state and the 2008 Republican candidate for Vice President of the United States, Sarah Palin . . . from Davidson, Maryland, local district attorney and mom to our own Calum Duncan, Mrs. Emily Duncan . . . and last but by no means least, today's moderator, the managing partner of the SmythKnight law firm, Vice President of the Gonzaga Mothers' Guild and mother to sophomore Will Parnell, Mrs. Danielle Parnell."

Due in some part to the excitement of the day generally and in large part to almost one thousand pubescent boys watching two highly confident, preening, uber-MILFs veritably strutting across the stage to take their places, thunderous applause greeted all three women as they were introduced. What went unseen by anyone, however, in the moment before Emily Duncan came out on stage, was Danielle Parnell whispering into the local DA's ear.

"Emily Dear," said the leather clad prima donna, "it would be a shame if you ended up humiliating yourself in front of that son of yours and all his little friends. Let's try not to let that happen, shall we."

And then, with a wicked smile on her beautiful face as she gestured to her own impeccably dressed and incredibly fit body, Danielle Parnell reiterated her taunt from earlier that day, "and remember. . . this always beats that."

Needless to say, the first thing Emily Duncan did once the initial applause subsided and she had taken her seat was to drink a glass of -- sadly plain -- water.

With the participants in place, Political Awareness Day began as anyone would expect. During the first part of the program, Mrs. Parnell raised topics such as income inequality, immigration and entitlement reform and invited, alternatively, the view from the right from Governor Palin and the view from the left from Mrs. Duncan. Each woman articulately and effectively stated her position and the tone remained quite civil.

"Thank you both ladies," began Mrs. Parnell after taking a sip of her water and standing up from behind the large desk where she sat on stage to speak from the podium adjacent thereto, "that was a most interesting discussion of many of the important policy issues facing this year’s electorate -- including some of our very own senior boys here today."

Feeding off the desire emanating from the boys and men sitting in the audience as they drank in her splendor, the comely counselor continued, "during this next phase of our discussion I will alternatively be asking each of Governor Palin and Mrs. Duncan some pointed political questions regarding whether and how their professional and personal lives reflect the platforms of their respective parties."

After sitting down again, taking another sip of water and flipping open the laptop that sat before her, Danielle Parnell went on smiling falsely, "I hope you're ready ladies -- these boys deserve our best performance up here and I haven't pulled any punches with my questions. Based on a coin toss earlier today, beginning with Governor Palin, I'll ask that each of you step up to the podium on my right so that I may ask you a question and then, from the podium, I and the audience will expect you to provide your answer. My only other request is that you limit your answers to thirty seconds."

The other two women on stage nodded their assent and, as the auditorium's male population focused intently, Sarah Palin uncrossed her legs, rose from her chair and confidently made her way to the podium Danielle had referenced. As the gorgeous governor walked, neither she -- nor anyone else for that matter -- noticed the slight gape in the seam that ran down the side of her pleated navy skirt.

"Governor Palin," Mrs. Parnell inquired of the former politician removing her glasses for effect, "you said earlier today that you're dedicated to helping the Republican Party win the White House this year. As we all know, you have endorsed Donald Trump as a candidate for that office as well as suggested to the Speaker of the House that he should be voted out for not doing the same. As recently as this week, your name has been floated as a potential Vice Presidential candidate. Don't you think it's more damaging to your party than not -- and more divisive -- to have a failed VP candidate -- a loser -- suggest that the highest ranking Republican in the land be voted out of office? And why do you think an electorate that has already rejected you as Vice President eight years ago would suddenly favor you today?"

Sarah Palin was incensed. She had accepted this invitation in large part because Ellie Kerr was going to tee up questions that the Governor could knock out of the park while at the same time permitting her a forum in which to belittle some liberal local-yokel lawyer. Instead, some arrogant, self-centered little know-it-all was putting her on the defensive -- on TV nonetheless. She knew she had to do something quick or this would become Tina Fey all over again.

"Now you wait just one second there Mrs. Parnell," came Ms. Palin's Alaskan accented voice sounding more shrill than usual due to the anger building up inside her.

Leaning into the podium to steady her ire, Sarah Palin continued, "first of all, Donald Trump is going to make America great again and I'm very proud to support that effort. As for Paul Ryan . . . well . . . I stand by what I said. He needs to come into line or he's gonna' find himself on the outside lookin' in. And I'm no loser madam . . . no I am not . . . you should remember that Ronald Reagan lost the 1976 Republican primary to Gerald Ford and no one ever called him by that name."

As the crowd applauded Mrs. Palin's pluck and her ability to think on her feet, and just before the Governor’s 30 seconds were up, Danielle Parnell -- with a self-satisfied smile on her face -- set her trap.

"Thank you Governor Palin. Oh, and by the way, unlike you Ronald Reagan almost won that primary where he was pitted against a sitting president and he did win the presidency both times he was in fact nominated. As you so correctly pointed out -- he was no loser."

And then, evoking Lloyd Bentsen's put down of Dan Quayle some quarter century before, Danielle Marie Parnell snapped the trap shut, "Mrs. Palin, as a very young girl I knew President Reagan . . . President Reagan was a family friend of ours . . . and you Governor are no President Reagan. In fact, quite literally, you are a loser."

Every boy and man in the crowd, and certainly every liberal woman, no matter what they might have thought of Mrs. Parnell, burst into applause as the lovely lawyer delivered a veritable knock-out punch to Sarah Palin. The males were mesmerized by how effortlessly Will Parnell's mother had dominated this national politician. The women were just glad to see the limelight seeking Sarah Palin taken down a peg or two.

Staring daggers at Mrs. Parnell, Sarah Palin began angrily to respond, "wait just one second here . . ."

But before she got her next word out, Danielle blithely cut her off, "I'm so sorry Governor, we have no seconds to wait. Your thirty have expired and now we must move on to Mrs. Duncan. Please have a seat."

Stunned and tongue-tied by the snarky rebuke and feeling the 2000 or so eyes in the auditorium staring intently at what her next move might be, Sarah Palin, with diffident purpose, decided for decorum's sake to stay silent and began the walk back to her waiting chair.

Unfortunately for the angry Alaskan, as she moved out from behind the center-stage podium, the slight gape toward the bottom of her very patriotic, navy-blue, pleated, Fendi, skirt, caught on one of the nails running up the side of the wooden rostrum that was intended to hide the microphone wire leading up from the stage floor. In an instant, and with an audible RIIIIIIIIIP, the front of the sexy Governor's skirt tore, from the hem immediately above her left knee almost all the way to her waist, revealing an incredibly fit and enticingly mouthwatering amount of thigh.

"Oh my God, my skirt," screamed Mrs. Palin as the men and boys in the audience got hard almost as one and the women thanked their lucky stars it hadn't happened to them.

To the very good fortune of the somewhat indisposed pol, the tear had stopped some four inches or so below her waist preventing -- at least for now -- any further embarrassment for the Governor. Calum Duncan laughed from his perch in the control booth. His "modifications" to Sarah Palin's outfit seemed actually to have worked.

Smiling like the Cheshire Cat Mrs. Parnell broke the uncomfortable silence.

"How embarrassing Governor," she said feigning concern, "I think everyone here would understand if you didn't want to continue."

Playing on the gob-smacked Governor's confusion Danielle continued, "I do want to apologize if my stumping you on that last question caused any of this . . . this . . . well . . . I guess the situation speaks for itself."

Although she knew she should have left the stage to change her skirt -- or at least to mend the tear -- Sarah Louise Palin was not going to let this little tease get the best of her.

"That's quite alright Mrs. Parnell," came the state executive's response as she did her best to regain her composure, "this wasn't precisely the fashion statement I intended to make today but with a bit of care I'll be just fine to go on."

"Very well then," came Danielle's rejoinder loving that she had manipulated the goofy governor into remaining on the stage. "Mrs. Duncan, the next question is for you."

Emily Duncan, looking even more anxious than she felt as she imagined the humiliation of having her skirt rip, made her way slowly to the podium

"Mrs. Duncan," Danielle began, "or may I call you Emily?"

Not prepared for that particular query, Emily Duncan, with beads of sweat now beginning to form on her brow, awkwardly stammered, "well . . . okay . . . I guess . . . I mean, yes, yes you may."

With a condescending look on her perfectly made-up face Mrs. Parnell mocked, "well that is your name now dear, isn't it."

As the men and boys in the audience -- save for Calum who was fuming -- laughed heartily at Mrs. Duncan's discomfort and the women -- including Sarah Palin who was still reeling from her own humiliation -- squirmed sympathetically for the poor woman, Emily Duncan meekly responded, "yes . . . that's my name."

"Very good then Emily," Danielle continued as Mrs. Duncan realized that once again she was being forced to play the fool to Mrs. Parnell's machinations, "now here is your first question. Judging from your rather pedestrian wardrobe -- let's just say it seems heavy on function and light on style -- and some of your earlier statements, it appears that you agree with many of Bernie Sanders' socialist policy positions. That said, you send your son here -- to Gonzaga -- a school that values achievement, individuality and America as the land of opportunity. How do you square that decision with your support of a political system that wants to mandate equality -- to in essence squeeze both the least and most talented among us into -- again apropos of your look today -- the same ill-fitting suit."

As his poor, mortified mother stood speechless on stage, clearly sweating and panicked, Calum Duncan knew it was high time for him to turn the tables on Mrs. Parnell.
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Old 06-11-2016, 12:51 AM
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Excellent, looking forward to the next part.
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Old 06-18-2016, 05:25 PM
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Default Palin in Comparison -- Part 5

As quickly as he could, Calum pulled from his pocket the flash drive to which he had transferred from his iPhone his slightly edited version Will's mom's "show" from the night before.

On stage in the meantime, Mrs. Parnell was playing her already significant advantage against Emily Duncan who was staring wide-eyed into the audience yet to respond to the devious diva's question.

"Would you like me to repeat the question Emily," the imperious moderator asked mockingly as uncomfortable laughter spread through the crowd.

Hearing nothing from Calum's mortified mother, Danielle continued apace, "perhaps while you gather your thoughts I'll put that question to Governor Palin. Do you Governor, find it odd that our resident socialist here is comfortable sending her son to a school whose population is likely to join the very "one percent" that she claims is running our country into the ground?"

Still smarting from her own figurative and nearly literal dressing down from Danielle Parnell, and having removed her white bolero jacket to cover while she sat the high slit that had been torn into her blue pleated skirt, Sarah Palin saw an opportunity, by piling on to the hapless Mrs Duncan's distress, to reclaim some of her own lost dignity and also to score some political points for her beloved Tea Party. With a smile on her beautiful face the alluring Alaskan rose from her comfortable chair on stage and, leaving her white jacket behind, approached in her towering blue heels, high-slit skirt and red, cotton sleeveless blouse the podium where Emily Duncan now stood.

Quite curtly, in her zeal to commandeer the ongoing narrative, a very determined Sarah Palin, with all forethought abandoned, attempted physically to wedge herself between Mrs. Emily Duncan and the podium in front of which the tongue-tied district attorney now stood. Had she stopped a moment to think her actions through the Governor may have recalled, on the one hand, that rudeness sometimes has consequences and, on the other, that a pesky nail remained unmoved since its last encounter with her seam weakened skirt.

For Emily Duncan, Sarah Palin's pushing her aside was the straw that broke the camel's back. Since before she even stepped on the stage to which she now found herself practically frozen Emily Duncan had been at best treated as invisible and, at worst, openly insulted by the two little prima donnas with whom she was supposed to be sharing the spotlight. Finally, determining that "enough was enough," the generally meek Mrs. Duncan reached deep within herself to find the strength to fight back.

"Excuse me," proclaimed the theretofore catatonic district attorney as, grabbing Sarah Palin by the shoulders, she gave the arrogant politician a shove and endeavored to retake the podium, "but that last question was for me."

What happened next would spell the beginning of a spectacular event for most everyone in attendance as well as the end of Sarah Palin's political career.

Caught by complete surprise when she was pushed harder by Mrs. Duncan than she could have imagined, or than Emily had frankly intended, Governor Palin lurched forward causing one of her sky-high Louboutin heels to catch on the power cable leading to the podium. Sensing her rival's ensuing fall, and despite her new-found confidence, Emily Duncan immediately tried to help by grabbing onto Mrs. Palin's sleeveless blouse where it crossed the Governor's firm, tanned shoulders. That act of selflessness, however, combined with the very nail that grabbed Ms. Palin's skirt only minutes before once again finding purchase on the weakened garment, was the beginning of the end for Governor Palin.

As time appeared to slow to a crawl, Sarah Louise Palin, who only eight short years before was a candidate for the second highest office in the land, was unceremoniously stripped both of her dignity and her clothes as the errant nail tore away her skirt and Emily Duncan was left holding her now empty red blouse. Worse yet for the stunned Governor, having avoided a fall due to Emily Duncan's altruistic efforts gone wrong, she was revealed to all standing in her sky high blue heels, a stars-and-stripes thong, a matching and heavily padded push-up bra and her bejeweled American flag necklace. A collective gasp from the assembled crowd was followed almost immediately by peels of laughter. The young men of the student body saluted the flag and Mrs. Palin's form in more ways than one while the women in the crowd, most of whom saw Sarah Palin for the arrogant attention hog that she was, were elated by her comeuppance. The Governor meanwhile, with her mouth hanging open, a daffy look on her usually smug face and her hands almost involuntarily moving between covering her breasts and her tight little be-thonged ass, looked infinitely more ill at ease than had Mrs. Duncan only seconds before.

Of course, laughing harder than anyone was Danielle Marie Parnell who couldn't believe her good fortune. Humiliating Emily Duncan had already made her day. Seeing this moose hunting hot-shot who thought to steal her spotlight now getting down on her haunches to scoot away in naught but her bra and panties was merely icing on the cake.

Sarah Palin knew she was finished. "I have to get out of here," she thought as, attempting to make herself as small as possible, she went from her haunches to her hands and knees and began crawling -- her fantastically toned, stars-and-stripes be-thonged ass facing the audience -- toward the back of the stage to safety.

"Ellie," the humiliated politician feebly cried to her friend Mrs. Kerr who, with her husband, sat slack-jawed on stage at the Governor's current predicament, "Ellie get over here and help me damn it . . . I'm practically naked."

But just as Ellie Kerr leaped out of her chair to rush toward her humiliated friend, the lights in the auditorium went out completely -- rendering the windowless space pitch black -- and the day began to take yet another oddly wonderful turn.

As uproarious laughter was replaced with the murmur of disconcerted surprise at the sudden darkness, the two large screens behind the stage -- along with an equally large mate at the back of the auditorium that permitted those on the dais to see what the crowd was seeing -- came alive with a high definition picture of the evening's moderator -- Mrs. Danielle Parnell. The feed was not a live one but rather appeared to show the comely counselor -- dressed in a power suit not entirely distinct from the one she now wore -- staring into a mirror in an incredibly cavernous and opulent bathroom holding a glass of wine in one hand and a bottle in the other.

Neither the silenced and confused crowd -- nor Will Parnell who recognized the room on-screen as his parents' master bath -- had any idea what to make of the scene unfolding before them. Of course, the women in the audience -- most of whom knew the imperious Mrs. Parnell all too well and each of whom had already gotten a collective rush from the humbling of Governor Sarah Palin -- took no small amount of private glee at the site of little Ms. Fancy Pants admiring her own reflection while toting around a full glass and nearly full bottle of wine. Her constant admonitions about "appropriate" behavior clearly didn't apply to her home life. But that private glee was about to become very public and very uproarious as the image on screen -- caught through the mirror that the officious diva was facing but clearly filmed surreptitiously from behind where she stood -- continued to roll.

"I'll be right back beautiful," the sexy barrister purred to her reflection, "but first I need to get out of these clothes."

The assembled crowd couldn't believe what they were seeing -- or more importantly hearing. From the protection of the darkness wolf whistles and calls of "take it off baby" could be heard from the gathered teens. In the meantime, again under the cover of darkness, many of the Gonzaga moms who almost daily suffered the arrogance of Mrs. Parnell through her role on the Mothers' Guild, her generally haughty attitude and, most especially, her incessant teasing of their husbands and sons, were smiling from ear to ear at the spectacle before them.

Those dads in attendance -- many of whom had only taken the day off after being pressured by their wives to become more involved in their sons' activities -- were now riveted to the sight of Danielle on screen. How many times had she teased and then embarrassed so many of them. If only, they and their sons all prayed beyond hope, if only this little scene could continue. In just a few moments their prayers would be answered.

Danielle was thunderstruck. Who was behind this? How was it possible that just last night someone had filmed her in the privacy of her own home? "Oh my God," she thought to herself recalling what would come next if the film progressed, "I have to stop this now."

Reaching for the microphone on the Lucite desk behind which she sat blessedly hidden in the darkness, after quickly downing an entire glass of water -- that unbeknownst to her was laced with Emily Duncan's anxiety medication -- Danielle Marie Parnell tried as she had done successfully so many times in the past to reassert her control.

"Whoever is behind this nonsense needs to stop it this instant," she said with all the authority she could muster, but only causing the crowd to laugh more heartily at the voice coming from the darkness.

"I said STOP . . . THIS . . . NOW," she bellowed raising her voice to a crescendo but sounding more desperate with every word, "or as God is my witness I will . . ."

But before she could say another word, Calum Duncan, smiling broadly from the control booth, cut Mrs. Parnell's microphone and at the same time illuminated her on stage with a very bright spotlight causing the laughter in the room to become ever louder.

While Danielle stood dumbstruck, like a deer caught in the proverbial headlights, the screens on which her smiling face had just appeared went black before, in large, alternating, bright white and purple letters the words, ". . . OR AS GOD IS YOUR WITNESS YOU'LL WHAT?" appeared for all to see causing the crowd's laughter to grow even louder and the shock -- or perhaps terror -- on Danielle's ordinarily smug face to become even more pronounced.

And then, with the spot still shining brightly on the usually perennially poised Mrs. Parnell, the screen came alive again this time showing at first only the empty mirror where Danielle had just narcissistically admired herself. In the next instant, however, to the staccato sound of high heels on marble, young Will Parnell's mom -- the always arrogant diva of Davidson -- strutted sexily into the camera's (and now the audience's) field of view wearing naught but a towering pair of black heels and a very, very short silk robe.

To a person -- except for Will himself who, with a torrent of confusing emotions running through his head and a bump in his khakis rising from his lap, remained pinned to his seat on stage -- the crowd went wild. But that was only the beginning. As she picked up a glass of wine that was sitting next to a spectacularly opulent lion-claw footed tub, the on-screen Mrs. Parnell again started talking to her reflection in the mirror.

"I told you I'd be back beautiful," she said lovingly to herself, "you look sexier every time I see you."

At this point the women over whom she had so long lorded her "beauty and intelligence," whose husbands and sons she had incessantly teased and whose collective enmity for her had for so long been kept at bay, were doubled over howling with delight.

"Oh my God this is fantastic," declared Rachel Miras pointing at the spot-lit and shell-shocked Mrs. Parnell from her seat on stage between Katherine Wray and Malcolm Biggs' mom Juanita, "that shattered look on her face is almost worth all we've had to endure up to now. Little Miss Perfect has no idea what to do next."

"The little tease most certainly had it coming," chimed in Quentin's mom Susan Kayser who like Will's friend Christian's mom -- Mrs. Tabash -- was tired of Danielle's parading around in front of her son and husband in her tight gym clothes and domineering power suits.

"You've got that right," enthused Katherine Wray in response, light-headed at the sight of Danielle Parnell on the big screen before her in just her heels and barely there robe. "I don't how this could get any better."

But then it did.

From his perch in the control room Calum Duncan continued to playback the video he had recorded less than 24 hours earlier. As the image on the screen again came to life, the crowd was treated to the site of the sexily attired Mrs. Parnell draining the glass of wine she held and pouring herself another. And then, amidst cries from women in the audience of "not so appropriate now," and "what a hypocrite," the onscreen beauty before them continued her conversation with the mirror -- this time clearly imagining a different audience.

"Do you honestly think you can compete with this . . . governor," the sassy and slightly tipsy suburbanite sneered, placing a highly manicured hand on her hip and throwing back her hair for emphasis, "well think again -- trailer trash."

Thinking on his feet, and to the raucous cheering of an already wild crowd made bolder by the cover of darkness, Calum Duncan shined a second spotlight upon Sarah Palin -- the intended target of the on-screen show off's insult -- who was now crawling on all fours across the stage wearing nothing but high heels, patriotic panties and a matching bra. Stopped dead in her tracks by the sudden blinding light, the mortified Governor -- whose stylish gold rimmed glasses slipped down the slope of her normally upturned nose as she raised her head in shock -- shrieked, "oh my God . . . oh my God . . . Ellie . . . Stuart . . . someone please cover me!!"

"Oh, I think you've had more than enough coverage this evening governor," came the voice of energized Emily Duncan before she was interrupted, as if on cue, by the on screen Mrs. Parnell.

"And what about you Duncan," the image of Danielle mocked -- this time clearly imagining Calum's mother Emily as her audience, "how does an out of shape loser like you -- with your unexercised body in your ill-fitting polyester suits -- even imagine that you belong on the same stage with this."

As the boys in the crowd went absolutely wild at the scene before them and even the women who had always hoped for Mrs. Parnell's downfall covered their mouths in shock and embarrassment, the recorded image of Danielle Marie Parnell untied the sash holding her robe together and, letting the silk garment fall open to reveal her sculpted abs sitting above the translucent front panel of her lacy, black La Perla thong, as well as its mate of a push up bra, arrogantly proclaimed, "you can't imagine -- because you don't belong here -- you fat cow!"

Almost drowned out completely by the collective gasp of the gathered Gonzaga mothers and the hysterical howling and continued cat calls of their husbands and sons, a mortified and increasingly hysterical Danielle Parnell -- the spotlight still trained upon her but now without a functioning microphone -- began, after chugging another full glass of water futilely to scream at the screen, "make it stop . . . make it stop . . . that . . . that . . . that's not me . . . turn off the camera . . ."

But no one was listening.

In the meantime, Emily Duncan, enraged and with new found confidence, had temporarily abandoned her pursuit of Sarah Palin and was making her way across the darkened stage to confront for the first time the woman who had so often -- just as her latest onscreen episode unquestionably demonstrated -- made her life miserable through snide comments, eye rolls, threats and other put-downs. "Well not anymore," thought Emily whose wish to see Danielle Parnell on the losing side of Karmic justice had at last come true, "not any more you little tease -- this time your mine!"

But before the newly invigorated Mrs. Duncan could reach the real live Mrs. Parnell, the latter's beautiful on screen doppelganger took another sip of wine and again began to address the mirror in front of her.

"You see . . . ladies . . .," the barely dressed arrogant diva continued to address what she at the time had only imagined were Sarah Palin and Mrs. Duncan, "these good men and boys aren't here to hear you drone on about your lunatic fringe political views . . . and they're certainly not here to see either of you. No . . . they've come -- or they soon will -- to see only one thing – me, right boys. They all want to see me and you cows all want to be me."

As the boys of Gonzaga along with their dads and male teachers -- to a man completely aroused -- all cheered to signal their agreement with the sexy solicitor's assessment for why they were there and the boys' moms, sisters, girlfriends and female faculty all felt their blood boil at the unbridled audacity of the tease on screen before them, that self-same on-screen sexpot let her tiny silk robe slip off her shoulders and onto the floor revealing her perfect be-thonged ass to their equally hungry and judgmental eyes.

On each of two large screens a nearly 35 foot tall image of Danielle Marie Parnell, the officious and arrogant diva who had forever looked down her nose at everyone gathered in the auditorium, now stood before them -- drunk -- wearing only her towering heels, black lace thong and matching push-up bra. On stage, and still dressed (at least for now) Mrs. Parnell stood catatonically taking in her own humiliation.

But the show was far from over. As the film continued, the onscreen Mrs. Parnell put both hands on her hips, and pushing her spectacular ass outward purred again at her reflection.

"This is what you want isn't it Mr. Hess -- not that dumpy Rebecca . . .," the preening snob teased as the live Adam Hess, who as a trustee of Gonzaga was sitting on stage next to his wife Rebecca, adjusted himself in his seat just in case the lights might come back on and otherwise catch him with a giant tent in his pants due to his raging hard-on. Rebecca Ross meanwhile was already out of her seat and, like Emily Duncan, making a bee line for the spot-lit show-off on stage.

" And this is why your hag of a wife isn't even on the stage any more isn't it Dr. Kerr -- or should I call you Stewie -- you loser," the tipsy cinematic diva went on to the complete shock of Dr. Stuart Kerr who also had been struggling in the dark with his own "feelings" over Mrs. Parnell's performance. His wife Ellie, meanwhile, who was already up in an effort to assist the nearly naked Sarah Palin who remained frozen on stage, turned quickly upon hearing Danielle's mocking to -- like Rebecca Ross and Mrs. Duncan -- get her hands on Danielle Marie Parnell.
Unlike the other two pursuers, however, Eleanor Kerr knew that the seams of Mrs. Parnell's very fashionable leather power suit had been weakened, a fact she hoped to use to her and the crowd's advantage and pleasure very soon. What she didn't then know was that the evening had a plan in store for her as well.

From on screen, Danielle's arrogant diatribe continued, this time directed squarely at her son's young friends who had spent the prior night at a slumber party in her very home, "and this what all of you imagine while you're ogling me from behind isn't it boys. That's right Calum, that's right Quentin, and Malcolm and Christian . . . you little perverts don't think I notice -- well I do -- you disgusting freaks. None of you can resist this. Well too bad you miscreants because you're never going to see it."

Nothing says "fighting words" to a roomful of mothers of high school aged boys than does some teasing temptress -- particularly this one -- always baiting and now mocking their sons.

"That brazen hussy," shouted a female cry from the crowd.

"Oh my God, the nerve of her," came another.

But if the mothers sitting in the audience were shocked, those women whose sons were mentioned by name were outraged, and although Emily Duncan, Rebecca Ross and Ellie Kerr were already closing in on Mrs. Parnell, Susan Kayser, Juanita Biggs and Christian Tabash's mom Anne were not too far behind.

The auditorium and stage were still dark save for the spotlights shining on the paralyzed Mrs. Palin and the dumbfounded Danielle. That said, those rings of light were sufficiently broad to reveal to the confounded counselor the small army of women heading her way. Ordinarily, the capable and confident uber-MILF would have easily found a way to cow the approaching horde of angry mothers and -- despite the complete humiliation that had already befallen her -- lived to fight another day. But for some reason Danielle -- unlike her now hyper-aroused son -- was not quite feeling herself. Her perennially sharp instincts were somehow dulled and her normally facile mind seemed in a haze. In short, she was increasingly but unknowingly in the grip of Emily Duncan's anti-anxiety medication.

Notwithstanding her incomprehensible sluggishness, Mrs. Parnell knew she needed to do something to escape the pack of angry women heading her way so -- feeling more lightheaded by the moment, and as Calum trained the spotlight on her every move -- she began to climb from the stage onto the large Lucite desk before her.

What happened next, a coming together if you will of the Mrs. Parnell on-stage with the Mrs. Parnell on screen, would become legend in the halls of Gonzaga High School. As Calum Duncan again permitted the "Danielle Parnell Show" to roll on screen, and the larger than life image of Will's mom, after taking yet another hit of wine, began a sexy strip tease to the erotic strains Purple Rain playing on her fancy sound system, the on stage Danielle, standing spot-lit atop of the giant Lucite desk and whose eyes had at this point begun to glaze over, also began gyrating -- in her sky high heels and leather power suit -- to the music of Prince's masterpiece.

"Take it off baby," thundered the cries of lustful teens still under the protection of darkness "show us your tits."

While on stage the "anxiety free" Danielle Parnell smiled devilishly as the lust she so dearly craved was directed powerfully her way -- and as she responded by teasingly undoing the top button on her tight leather suit jacket -- the on screen Mrs. Parnell was already coyly peeling off her bra . . . what great tits . . . to the unbridled joy of the watching men and unchecked laughter of their gathered wives and moms.

Stunned by what they were witnessing, Emily Duncan and the small group of pursuers that had gathered behind her stopped dead in their tracks.

"I think she's lost her mind," laughed a mystified Rebecca Ross loving that the clearly out of sorts Mrs. Parnell was poised to bring more humiliation on herself than any third party could have.

In the meantime, now unaware completely of where she was, Danielle Marie Parnell, the managing partner of one of the largest law firms on earth, had just pulled from around her neck the lace dickey, that to all prior appearances looked to be an appropriate and full blouse, and thrown it into the darkness. Then, dancing so sexily as to leave not a flaccid member in the house -- and thanks to the earlier efforts of the still shell-shocked Sarah Palin and her friend Ellie Kerr -- Mrs. Parnell quite literally tore off her tight leather skirt to reveal a tiny, translucent, red, lace thong with the blue bars and white stars of the Confederate flag emblazoned across the front.

With her fantastically exercised legs and thong-covered ass on full display for all to see, and as the crowd's excitement continued audibly to grow, the once imperious diva -- dancing erotically to the strains of Prince's Purple Rain -- next tore open the front of her sexy, black, bolero style leather blazer and, sending buttons flying, revealed more than a hint of the lacy Confederate flag themed push-up bra that matched her oh-so-inappropriate panties.

"Can you believe what that tramp is wearing," shouted a disgusted Juanita Biggs to no one in particular, "that little tease deserves to have that tiny ass of her's tanned."

As Mrs. Biggs stewed, the men and boys in the still darkened auditorium continued to cheer wildly at Mrs. Parnell's wanton display. Behind that cheering, and as the wives and mothers of those men and boys laughed heartily at the usually arrogant narcissist's inexplicable self-destruction, Governor Sarah Palin sought to make a break from her own on-stage disgrace. Crawling as quickly as her hands and knees would take her from the now static spotlight that had once surrounded her, the panicked politician wanted only to get off the stage and cover up. Unfortunately for her, her retreat from the light caused her to crawl squarely into the legs of a now colossally confident Emily J. Duncan.

"And just where do you think you're going you little tease," demanded Mrs. Duncan of the cowering governor as merely feet away from them Mrs. Parnell -- still desk top dancing -- tore her blazer off and threw it into the crowd.

"Please . . . please just leave me alone," pleaded Sarah Palin in a stage whisper to the woman who all day she had treated with disdain, "haven't I suffered enough."

"Not even close," smiled Mrs. Duncan as she reached down to grab the fleeing politician.

Moving to evade the determined Emily Duncan's grasp, Sarah Palin quickly climbed onto the chair that sat behind the large desk upon which Danielle Parnell remained dancing in her Confederate flag bedecked bra and thong and towering high heeled shoes. Unfortunately, the retreating Republican was not quite quick enough to elude Mrs. Duncan's hand and, as Sarah Palin continued her escape onto the spotlit Lucite desk, her stars and stripes bra remained behind held tightly within Emily Duncan's fingers.

The resulting scene -- namely the former Governor of Alaska, wearing only her very high heels, American flag thong and matching bejeweled flag necklace, effectively doing a desktop "dance" of shame as her hands flew between covering her ample, exposed tits and her nearly naked bottom all while standing next to the nearly naked and still sexily gyrating if heavily medicated Danielle Parnell -- practically brought down the house.

But that scene only became more raucous when, still dancing in her head Mrs. Parnell decided to grab Sarah Palin from behind as a make-shift dirty dancing partner. Caught completely unawares by the hands encircling her waist, and throwing any hope of preserving her dignity to the wind, the mortified Mrs. Palin did a quick half-spin in her stilettos and slapped her unwanted dance partner soundly across the face.

In that instant, despite whatever effect Emily Duncan's watered down medicine may have had on her earlier, Danielle Marie Parnell's self-awareness, however slowly, finally began to return. She felt a sting on her cheek and, looking somewhat blurrily through her burgundy Prada cat-eye glasses, recognized Governor Sarah Palin's face glowering at her.

"What are you looking at," demanded Mrs. Parnell as the return of her arrogance outpaced the return of many of her senses, "and where in God's name are your clothes?!?!"

No sooner had that fateful question left her lips then was Mrs. Danielle Parnell, glancing up at the two large screens behind her, confronted with her own image, at this point naked save for her high heels and a smile -- wine glass still in hand -- dancing lewdly in her opulent bathroom at home. But that discovery paled in comparison to her next one that was brought on by a familiar voice coming from the darkness.

"Her clothes," laughed Emily Duncan heartily, "the better question for you Parnell is where in God's name are your clothes."

"My clothes," the confident uber-Milf thought to herself, "my clothes are exactly where they should . . ."

But before her mind finished its thought, Danielle Parnell's eyes, glancing down to where they expected to find her very fashionable, very sexy, very powerful Prada leather suit, encountered something quite unexpected. As her arms fell to her side, her jaw dropped open, her eyes opened in shock and her very fancy cat-eye glasses slid down to the tip of her perfect little nose, Mrs. Danielle Parnell realized she was wearing nothing but a pair of towering high heels and her very naughty Confederate flag thong and matching push-up bra -- her private, dirty secret now on very public display.

And then -- despite some continued confusion brought on by the bright light that seemed to be shining only on her and the cowering Governor Palin, and not quite appreciating yet the raucous laughter and cat calls coming from the darkness -- the full weight of where she was started to sink in . . . Sarah Palin . . . Emily Duncan . . . oh, no . . . oh no, please no . . .

"Oh . . . m-m-m-my . . . G-g-g-god," the mortified mother simultaneously stuttered and shouted, "I-I-I-I'm . . . . I-I-I-I'm . . . I'm . . . . p-p-p-p-ractically n-n-n-n-aked . . . at G-g-g-g-gonzaga!!"

"Oh my," mocked a smiling Emily Duncan as her son brought the house lights up so that the two women who had sought to embarrass his mother could get an even more bitter taste of their own medicine, "do you have a stuttering problem dear . . . how embarrassing."

The sudden sight of the crowd increased the already intense humiliation of the two civil war lingerie wearing divas a thousand fold for now they could see the large throng of men, women and, mostly, teenage boys, shouting, clapping, pointing and laughing.

Teasing her former tormentor even more, now with the benefit of everyone watching, Emily Duncan mocked the stunned Danielle Parnell yet again, "I'm sorry Dani . . . . if I may call you Dani . . . would you like me to repeat the question?"

Although she heard Mrs. Duncan's voice taunting her, Danielle's eyes -- unfortunately for her -- had locked with those of her son Will who, standing only feet from his nearly naked mother had the belt and button of his khakis undone, fly open and, but for the surprise engendered by the house lights coming up, was about to put his hand down his pants.

"W-W-W-Will," the once imperious uber-MILF stuttered at her stunned son, "d-d-d-d-don't look at mommy . . . and s-s-s-stop . . . t-t-t-touching . . . y-y-y-yourself."

Laughing hysterically at the scene before them, the mothers of the boys that Danielle had called out by name gladly joined the verbal assault.

"Isn't that what he always imagines while he's ogling you from behind," teased Mrs. Kayser.

"You know none of the little perverts can resist you," teased Mrs. Tabash.

Thunderstruck by the sight of his humiliated mother, a scene he had always longed for but one that overwhelmed him nonetheless -- and despite Danielle's protestations to look away, Will Parnell began almost mindlessly walking toward her just as Ellie Kerr made a bee line for the catatonic Sarah Palin. What happened next presaged the close of one of the most memorable days in Washington, D.C. high school history.

"Oh no you don't Eleanor," shouted Emily Duncan, as yet another self-absorbed show off of a woman who had long minimized the now confident district attorney sought to end the Governor's shame before Mrs. Duncan was ready.

But because Will -- moving zombie-like toward his mother -- had managed to get himself in between the two women, Mrs. Duncan was unable to get a hold of the now quickly moving Mrs. Kerr. Thus it was in a last ditch effort to impede Sarah Palin's rescuer, that Emily Duncan grabbed the undone buckle of Will Parnell's belt and, pulling it from his pants, sought to lasso Ellie Kerr's ankle. Although that plan itself failed, karma provided a "Plan B" whose consequences were infinitely more satisfying.

As Will Parnell's now belt-less and open pants fell to his ankles, revealing a Confederate flag Speedo -- two sizes too small -- that the young man had bought himself online after discovering his mother's naughty underthings while searching through her closet recently -- the startled student fell forward and -- in an attempt to break his fall -- grabbed heavily onto the side of Mrs. Eleanor Kerr's black wrap around dress. As cell phones recorded them for posterity, the calamitous consequences of young Will's fall quickly ensued.

First, a startled Eleanor Kerr unintentionally pirouetted out of her dress which went crashing down beneath Will Parnell whose surging manhood was rather crushed by his fall. That action -- which revealed the avid runner in nothing but her high heeled shoes, black silk thong and matching push-up bra -- although mouth-wateringly sexy in and of itself was made devilishly more so in light of its 50 something wearer.

Unfortunately for the formerly buttoned-down beauty and the intended target of her rescue, Ellie Kerr's strip inspired spin also caused her to fall forward over the edge of the Lucite desk on which a petrified Sarah Palin still stood rooted next to Mrs. Parnell. Rather than saving her old friend, Mrs. Kerr managed to run squarely into the back of the humiliated governor's legs which in turn caused the latter woman -- attempting to break her own fall -- to grab from behind the sexy Confederate flag bra of Mrs. Parnell.

In a scene that would have done Vaudeville proud, a now topless Danielle Parnell toppled into the powerful arms of Emily Duncan, while Governor Sarah Palin ended up face down in the Speedo covered lap of Will Parnell who -- having just managed to get himself in a sitting position on the stage floor, greeted the Governor's arrival by soaking the center of his ridiculously small underpants. His mother meanwhile had been pulled by Mrs. Duncan over the latter's knee and was about to be served up the comeuppance of a lifetime.

Smiling at the cheering men, boys and women in the gathered auditorium Emily Duncan began the end of her longtime nemesis.

"Well Mrs. Parnell," Emily Duncan smiled,"it looks like my ill-fitting suit which . . . what did you say . . . is heavy on function and light on style . . . proved to be the outfit to have on tonight doesn't it?"

"P-p-p-p-please . . . ," the once imperious alpha lawyer began to respond.

"Why there's that embarrassing stutter again Dani," Emily Duncan interrupted using a name that Mrs. Parnell routinely shot people down for muttering as unworthy for a groan woman; "my name is Danielle" she would always say.

"Maybe if you shut up for once," Calum's mom continued while running Will Parnell's belt which she still held in her hand softly across Danielle's be-thonged bottom, "it won't be such a problem."

And then, undoing the severe bun atop the broken MILF's bowed head as men and women roared with appreciation, Mrs. Duncan devilishly continued, "I don't think this very grown up, east coast, Republican hair style matches those hillbilly panties you're wearing there Dani."

"But don't worry," the suburban D.A. said as she reached into the pocket of her sensible suit jacket and pulled out two small rubber bands, "I think I've got just the thing for that pretty hair of yours."

As Emily Duncan put Mrs. Danielle Parnell's ordinarily perfectly coiffed hair into make-shift pig-tails, to the mortification of the once proud women splayed across her lap, cameras, cell phones and the national press caught it all on camera for posterity's sake.

"And this very womanly make-up you're wearing," Emily continued dabbing into a nearby water pitcher a tissue she had taken from a box on the large desk at which she now sat, "I think . . . given how much of a distraction you believe you are to the boys here . . . well . . . I think it may be best if we just wipe that off."

While the likes of Katherine Wray, Rebecca Ross, Rachel Miras and Juanita Biggs doubled over with laughter, Mrs. Duncan pulled Danielle's head -- which was hanging off the DA's lap -- up by the hair and roughly wiped the perfectly applied make-up from the bemused beauty's shell-shocked face.

"That's much more like it," smiled Emily as Danielle tried meekly to protest.

"Not so sexy now are you," cried Mrs. Tabash.

"I don't think our boys will be chasing you anymore," cried another mother.

"Speaking about our boys -- the little perverts, miscreants and disgusting freaks I think you called them -- well it looks to me from your messy, panty wearing son over there that the biggest one of all may live under your own roof. If he were my son I'd give him quite the spanking . . . but since he's yours . . . I'm going to go ahead and spank you. And while all of these men and boys may want your ass, all of us women and girls want to see it get tanned. "

As a look of horror passed across Danielle's normally smug face, and the crowd roared at her impending punishment, Emily Duncan whispered into the stunned MILF's ear.

"This," Emily sexily purred as she put Will's belt squarely in front of Mrs. Parnell's frozen gaze with one hand and squeezed the broken diva's firm ass with the other, "is so going to beat that!"

As Mrs. Duncan then began to rain down swats down on Mrs. Danielle Marie Parnell's firm but reddening ass, the latter, now crying like a baby, wildly kicked her feet until her very high, very sophisticated Prada heels went sailing off into the crowd, leaving them with the image of a little girl being disciplined by her mother for some very naughty behavior.

That image was only enhanced once Mrs. Duncan, having satisfied her long held desire to for once make Danielle Parnell look like a loser, stood the shoe-less diva up, tore her Confederate flag thong from her hot but punished ass and, slapping that same ass, sent the denuded prima donna running for cover.

The last that Gonzaga saw of its former Queen Bee mom was a short, crying, pig-tailed girl, bereft of make-up and whose pussy was shaved bald, dragging her now pant-less son (who came again when she tried to lift him up), naked from the auditorium. As the boys and men in the crowd, many of whom like Will Parnell had deposited their excitement in their pants, thought of the contrast between the tiny pig-tailed streaker who had just run from their sight and the dominating diva who had taken the stage less than an hour before . . . well . . . suffice it to say . . . . the former was "palin" in comparison.

Epilogue

Before the week of Political Awareness Day was out, Sara Palin had returned to the Alaskan wilderness in hiding, Will Parnell had been expelled from Gonzaga, Ellie Kerr had been soundly if privately spanked by her husband Stewart and Danielle Marie Parnell had been unceremoniously voted out -- well at least as a lawyer -- of the large international law firm that she had run with an iron fist since she was 40.

Some months later, however, after Emily Duncan's rising notoriety had permitted her to move from the Davidson District Attorney's Office to a partnership at Mrs. Parnell's former firm, a rumor began spreading around DC that Mrs. Danielle Marie Parnell had returned to the halls of SmythKnight. And while no one by exactly that name was on the employment rolls, a short girl, sensibly if unfashionably dressed, usually in a long ill-fitting poly-blend skirt and matching jacket and often in pig tails, did indeed have a seat outside the fashionable office of Mrs. Duncan (now quite fit from months of training with Zeke and far better dressed in light of her sizable raise).

What's more, whenever it would ring to the desk at her small station, the little girl could be heard to answer the new partner's phone . . .

"H-h-h-h-hello . . . M-M-Mrs. Duncan's office . . . th-th-th-this is D-D-D-Dani speaking."
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If your other stuff is usually an 8 or 9 out of 10, this is an 11. A masterpiece. Glorious. Worth every month of waiting!
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Old 07-13-2016, 06:12 PM
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Default Mom Overboard

Just a little summer interlude. Apologies for any qualitative fall-off on this one. Thanks to Chiefy for the idea (and credit to obo for my theft of some Poolside Pandemonium stripping techniques). Hope you all enjoy.

* * *

To the extent the Washington, D.C. area has a best season, many would claim that it's spring -- particularly late spring. As late May arrives, temperatures haven't generally reached their scorching mid-summer heights and the tell-tale humidity that practically hangs over the nation's capital from June until late September is still quite tolerable. Serendipitously for Americans living in the region, the last Monday in May, and the two weekend days before it, also mark the Memorial Day weekend holiday -- the unofficial beginning of summer.

In most towns across America, that weekend is heralded with much fanfare to honor those who have served their country. Parades, barbecues and the like provide revelers with all manner of opportunity to celebrate their nation's veterans. In Davidson, Maryland, a small affluent suburb equidistant between Washington, D.C. and Baltimore, the Memorial Day weekend also marks the official opening of many a private community pool including the one in the toniest of Davidson's gated enclaves where Mrs. Danielle Marie Parnell resides with her family.

Memorial Day weekend holds a special place in the heart of the 44 year-old mother of three, a stunning beauty by any measure with a fantastically fit body and a face that combines the best of Kerry Russel and Miranda Kerr. But Danielle's affection for the holiday is not a function of any particular love of veterans or of Americana generally -- although both are issues about which she cares deeply. Rather, Mrs. Parnell's annual desire for the weekend's arrival -- particularly the opening of her private community's spectacular pool -- stems from her love of, to her, the most important, most beautiful, most intelligent and sophisticated person on the planet, namely herself.

Why -- because each annual reopening of the community pool affords the stunning diva the opportunity to assert her dominance not only over the neighborhood's male population -- who to a man and boy lust after the self-satisfied beauty but -- more satisfyingly to her -- over the wives, mothers and girlfriends of that population. In her mind, simply teasing the pathetic men and boys of her community is easy enough; all she needs to do to accomplish that is appear. But although the preening diva derives no small amount of satisfaction from leaving the pathetic males of her community drooling, what really brings her joy is to loudly, publicly and derisively chide them when she "catches" them in the act of ogling her irresistible form.

"Eyes up here, Mr. Wray," she'll harp.

"Why don't you take a picture Dr. Miras, it will last longer," she'll mock.

"Your wife is right there Mr. Silver," she'll chide.

"What would your mother think Calum," she'll implore.

But as much as she revels in the feeling she gets from demeaning these losers -- Danielle Parnell's real satisfaction came from watching their wives, daughters and girlfriends squirm as she implies -- or sometimes even expresses -- how if those women would do a better job tending to themselves their men wouldn't need to obsessively follow her around. The hags, she would smile to herself. Your men all want to see me and you cows all want to be me.

Mrs. Parnell's tried-and-true formula for making her Memorial Day poolside debut is as simple as it is calculated. Each May, about two weeks before the community pool opens and whether her children are off from school or not, she plans a family vacation to an exotic beach destination to work on her always fantastic tan. Around that same time, in addition to her already high-octane fitness regime, she dials up her exercise quotient and assiduously focuses on adhering to an even healthier diet than usual. Finally, she shops each year for a new, sexy but elegant poolside ensemble consisting each time of a pair of high, often wedge, heels, a sophisticated bikini to show off her tan, fit, physique, a stylish cover up to help build the anticipation of her pathetic audience, a pair fashionable new sunglasses through which to watch her prey and a spectacular sun hat.

After that, it's all about the timing. Danielle dispatches her now teenage son Will to reserve her a seat by the pool -- not too close to the water but where everyone can see her -- and then, once she is confident that most of the "rabble" had otherwise assembled for the day, she struts through the clubhouse, onto the pool deck and ultimately to her seat, head held high and hips swaying confidently. With each step she basks in the lust she knows is being directed her way from each man and boy present as well as in the daggers being thrown by their wives, mothers and girlfriends. Of course, the coup de grâce for the preening diva's ego comes from her slowly peeling out of whatever elegant cover-up she is wearing to reveal her spectacular bikini covered body to the unworthy gazes of her neighborhood's simpletons.

And so it was on the Saturday before the most recent Memorial Day, with the sun shining brightly, no hint of humidity and a temperature in the low 80s, that Danielle Marie Parnell began her veritable catwalk across the pool deck to her waiting chair. Wearing a pair of suede, navy blue and gold, 4.5" open-toe, platform wedge-heels from Prada, a gauzy Ralph Lauren white wrap-around skirt cover-up, with an accompanying navy, linen, military-style bolero jacket, mirrored aviator sunglasses and a highly stylized, black-brimmed, white captain's hat, the toned and tanned Mrs. Parnell was every inch a red-blooded American man's patriotic wet dream -- and she knew it.

Carrying a Louis Vuitton beach bag in one hand and a book in the other the suburban sexpot outwardly feigned indifference to the lustful stares coming her way that internally fed her insatiable ego. She smiled as she assessed the pathetic state of the neighborhood's other women -- the pale, unfit losers.

"Hey there Danielle," came a soft but friendly southern accented voice interrupting Mrs. Parnell's musings.

The source of that voice, one Mrs. Katherine Elizabeth Wray, was one of Davidson's nicest women and no slouch in the fitness department herself. Although she was happily married with two boys and a girl of her own, she paid almost as much attention to the beauty before her as did Davidson's men, a fact that was not lost on Danielle.

"Why hello there Katherine," Mrs. Parnell responded disdainfully with a false smile on her otherwise gorgeous face, "now don't forget to put on the SPF 100 dear . . . you wouldn't want to burn that lovely pale skin of yours."

"And Emily," the preening uber-MILF without even breaking stride offered to Mrs. Emily Duncan, another neighbor who was lying out next to Mrs. Wray, "I think it may be time to get back into the gym . . . don't you."

As the two insulted suburban moms silently stewed, and the other women who had witnessed their dressing down bristled at the arrogance of Little Miss Perfect, Danielle continued her proud promenade across the pool deck until, nearly to her waiting chair upon which her smug son Will had just laid out her towel, she spied her daughter Anna and her friends sitting together nearby.

At 5' 6", the teenage Anna Parnell -- a very pretty young girl -- was already a good deal taller than her mother (a fact that annoyed Danielle to no small extent). Indeed, among the many "house" rules set down by Mrs. Parnell was that Anna was too young for high heels. Of course, Danielle herself would never be seen without them and, at least for now, her ordinarily towering shoes continued to give her a slight height advantage over her oldest daughter.

As with many kids her age, Anna was beginning to test the limits of parental authority and, on this day, had decided to wear a two piece bathing suit to the Memorial Day pool opening in large part to catch the eye of Aaron Tabash, the 19-year old life guard and former Gonzaga High School star athlete who had just returned from his freshman year at Harvard where he had successfully rowed for the elite institution's national championship crew team.

"Excuse me missy," rang out the shrill sound of an annoyed Danielle Parnell as she approached the gaggle of girls that included her daughter, "but what exactly do you think you're wearing."

"Mom," shot back Anna through clenched teeth, "cut it out . . . you're embarrassing me."

"You better change that tone young lady," came her mother's clipped response, "and you're only embarrassing yourself. What did I say about bikinis? Hmmm . . . well let me remind you . . . you are NOT to wear them do you hear me . . . they're not for little girls. Now get home and change before I drag you home."

"But mom," the junior Ms. Parnell pleaded looking over her shoulder at the handsome Aaron Tabash whose attention had been drawn by the minor commotion.

Realizing completely now why her daughter had defied her, Danielle Marie Parnell decided to put young Anna in her place in a most humiliating manner.

"Oh please, Anna," Danielle laughed as she peered over her aviator shades at the tall, tan, fit Aaron Tabash, "he's a man for God's sake. He's not going to be interested in you no matter what you're wearing. Now you get home and change this instant."

"Fine," croaked the embarrassed teen as some of the younger boys at the pool pointed and laughed and her annoying brother Will, guffawing mightily, walked over, "but I'm wearing whatever I want tonight to the party!"

"Oh is that so," her mother mockingly responded, "perhaps you've forgotten that your punishment this summer for lying about your grades includes "volun-teening" as a waitress at tonight's party. So don't worry about what to wear -- it has already been chosen for you -- in fact, the caterer left your rental uniform at the house."

"And don't forget Anna," continued the cowed teen's imperious mother as standing toe-to-toe with Anna in her towering wedge heels Danielle looked down upon her middle child and put her bejeweled hand up to the brim of her sexy naval cap, "while you live under my roof, I'm the captain. Your brother over here is the first mate and you're nothing but a deck hand. Now go home and change before I ground you."

"Yeah, get lost deckhand," mocked a laughing Will Parnell delighted by his mother's dressing down of his younger sister.

As Will led his mother to the place he had set out for her, Anna's friends -- embarrassed for their humiliated compatriot -- brought voice to what almost every onlooker to the mother-daughter spat was thinking.

"Oh my god," said Jocelyn Carter, "can you believe Anna's mom?"

"I know, what a snob," added Sarah Duncan.

"That's one word for it," young Kimberly Wray chimed in, "the better one starts with a 'b.' She makes Anna go home and dress like a nun while she parades around here in her high heels, teeny-weeny bikini and that ridiculous captain's hat."

As the three girls giggled -- each one thanking God Mrs. Parnell wasn't her mom -- Danielle was slipping out of her linen jacket and gauzy white skirt to reveal her incredibly fit, tan body to the awaiting eyes and loins of her neighborhood's men and boys. Accidentally "dropping" her novel to the ground, the sexy solicitor -- still of course in her high wedge heels -- bent slowly at the waist to retrieve the errant book. As swim trunks strained and men groaned audibly, Danielle Parnell -- still in full bend --glanced up toward a spellbound Aaron Tabash and, peeking over the top of her mirrored aviator shades, winked sexily at the young, tan, stud.

And then, having teased the object of her daughter's affection to distraction, Mrs. Parnell laid face down on the chair her son -- still sitting next to her -- had set.

"Will -- be a good little first mate and rub some lotion on mommy's back would you," Danielle sleepily directed her son -- an unintended Jocasta to the "growing" boy's sexually confused Oedipus, "and undo my top so I don't have a tan line back there."

"But mom," Will stammered uncomfortably, "all the guys are watching . . . even Aaron is looking over here."

"Perhaps I should ask him to help me . . ." Danielle snickered only half-joking and loud enough for the young collegian to hear.

"No way," came Will's quick response, "I'm the first mate -- not him."

"That's what I thought you'd say dear," his mother practically purred, "now, let's not let mommy burn shall we."

* * *

As she helped organize the appetizers that as a "Volun-teen" she'd soon be serving to her friends and neighbors around the same pool at which her mother had humiliated her that afternoon, Anna Parnell was fuming. By the time she returned to the pool earlier that day -- in an old one piece swimming suit that made her look every bit like the child her mom wanted her to be -- her friends had already left and Aaron Tabash's attention was fixated upon her show-off of a mother.

If that wasn't bad enough, when she got home again she found waiting on her bed an ill-fitting, black, polyester waitress uniform -- the skirt of which went down below her knees -- a pair of black, flat, rubber soled shoes and a discolored white apron the likes of which would never see its intended hue again. And now, while all her friends and their families were arriving in their trendy, fashionable, party dresses and seer sucker shorts and suits -- and, at least for her close pals, a plan to go skinny-dipping together later that night -- Anna Parnell was getting ready to wait on them.

"What could make this night any worse," she thought. And then her mother arrived.

Striding through the clubhouse in her nearly 6" gold, spiked, Christian Louboutin platform, peep-toe pumps Danielle Marie Parnell felt more confident than ever. Dressed from the waist down in a pair of midnight-blue, translucent, silk harem pants with a slit that ran up the side of each tanned and toned leg from the tight fit on her perfectly sculpted ankle nearly to the apex of her magnificently muscled hip, the comely counselor was every bit a fashion-forward fantasy. Around her toned waste a gold chain belt played southern border to her exquisitely exposed, bronzed midriff.

From that belt her sculpted bare abdomen rose to meet the bright-white silk of a tight crop top that further served to enhance her spectacular tan as well as her gravity defying cleavage. Over that crop-top, but open in the front to profile the sexy uber-MILF's fit midsection, Danielle wore a highly stylized, midnight blue, mock-military bolero jacket that, like the white-silk top that it covered, was cropped below her ample bosom to permit her "admirers" an unobstructed view of her tiny, toned waist and stomach. Mock stripes -- in gold silk embroidery -- adorned the ends of her three quarter sleeves as well as the epaulettes on her fit shoulders. After all, thought the preening prima donna laughing to herself, there is certainly no one here that outranks me.

Atop her now immaculately coiffed hair, Mrs. Parnell wore again the black-brimmed white captain's hat to cap off her military ensemble. With the early evening sun still high in the late spring sky, Danielle sported her mirrored aviator sunglasses to protect her emerald green eyes. For make-up, the ageless beauty wore just a hint of foundation and blush to complement her evenly tanned visage. Her lipstick was a pale shade of pink. From each ear, keeping with the nautical theme, dangled a diamond encrusted anchor. On a simple gold chain, a similarly bejeweled ships wheel hung around her neck.

The sharp tempo of her towering heels striking the teak planks of the community pool deck heralded Danielle's transition from the clubhouse to the great outdoors. That sweet sound in turn precipitated necks to snap in her direction as every man and boy in attendance drank in both her sartorial and physical splendor and every woman and girl rued the local show-off's arrival.

Mrs. Parnell reveled in the male lust and adoration that followed her and, so as to feed her own insatiable ego even more, began to scan the crowd of doting male idiots around her to determine which one to tease to distraction before -- when he took the bait and attempted to reciprocate -- bringing down the hammer of humiliation on him in front of every one in attendance. Where was Adam Hess she thought to herself acknowledging her weakness for the tall, handsome husband of Rebecca Ross -- who was in Danielle's view an undeserving wife to the "real man" she married. For Danielle Parnell, the tension between her desire to have Mr. Hess and her love of humiliating him and his wife made the man by far her most desirable target.

Not yet spying her intended victim and loathe to let just any man get her a drink -- despite the veritable smorgasbord of willing but terrified candidates -- the sexy sailor summarily summoned one of the evening's "help" to satiate her thirst.

"Excuse me . . . you there . . . girl," she practically commanded to a waitress not far away, "get me a glass of champagne would you . . . and make it quick . . . I don't have all night."
Anna Parnell was not at all surprised when she turned around to acknowledge the rude guest summoning her, to come face to face with her own mother -- or rather Anna's face to her mom's impressive chest given the former being in flats and the latter in her towering 6" platform heels.

"There's no need to be rude mom," snapped Anna who held the woman in front of her solely responsible for what thus far had been an incredibly humiliating day.

Not pleased with Anna's attitude and still unsatisfied that her daughter understood who was in charge, Danielle decided again to put Anna in her "rightful place."

"Rude . . . rude is the help giving a guest attitude when she asks politely for a glass of champagne . . ," the determined diva proclaimed quite loudly so that Anna's nearby friends could hear, "now mind your manners young lady and do as I ask or you're going to find yourself in a world of trouble."

"And bring me a lemonade while you’re at it," came the laughing voice of Will Parnell who, sidling up to his mother in a pair of Vineyard Vines white and purple seersucker shorts, white buck shoes and a purple linen shirt, loved getting his second opportunity of the day to insult his younger sister.

"You heard your brother," Danielle chimed in again, "now make it quick."

Having not been able to stop thinking about Will's mom since she winked at him at the pool, and seeing the commotion among the Parnell clan, Aaron Tabash, in a pair of white linen shorts, white bucks, a white oxford shirt and a blue blazer, decided to try his hand at chivalry.

"Um," the young tan Adonis began as he lightly touched Danielle's elbow from behind, "I'd be happy to get that champagne for you Mrs. Parnell."

Turning to see who had the audacity to touch her, Danielle smiled devilishly to herself when she came face-to-face with the young collegian hero. Having worked the boy up at the pool, this was a perfect opportunity to slam him back down to earth. And it was made all the better by having Anna and all his other little worshipers standing right there.

"Get your hands off me young man," Danielle chided the shocked jock. "I'm not some teeny-bopper who swoons every time you walk by and I most certainly don't need to be offered a drink by some under aged little boy."

Completely embarrassed by his unexpected dressing down, Aaron Tabash turned about three shades of red as Anna's friends pointed and giggled at him.

"But . . .," the cowed crewman stammered.

"But nothing . . . you should be ashamed of yourself," snapped Danielle before, turning to her son who was smirking at his now fallen idol, commanded, "Will, help mommy get her blazer off would you dear?"

With an arrogant smirk on his smug adolescent face, and walking toward his spectacularly imperious mother to help her as requested, Will Parnell made a snap-decision that would provide joy for many, the undoing of two and otherwise alter significantly the balance of power at the Davidson community pool.

"As if Tabash," the young preppy mocked the former captain of his high school crew team, "maybe you should head back to Cambridge early."

In an instant, Aaron Tabash's humiliation turned to anger. It was one thing to have to endure a public tongue lashing from Mrs. Danielle Marie Parnell but quite another to be insulted by her equally egotistical pipsqueak of a son. Although a genuine beat down of the little jerk would no doubt get him kicked off the Harvard crew team if not expelled from school, Aaron was willing to risk a little shoulder to shoulder contact so, as Will walked by toward his waiting poseur of a mother, the sizable collegian gave the smaller boy an "accidental" shove which precipitated quite the domino effect.

Knocked off-course by the unexpected push that came from Aaron Tabash, young Will Parnell caught his foot on a lounge chair which in turn caused him to fall face first into the back of his sister who had just returned from the kitchen with her mother's promised champagne in one hand a tray of hor d'oeuvers in another. Pushed forward by her brother's fall, Anna Parnell launched both the glass and tray into the air as she careened toward -- who else -- but her as yet unaware mother who was standing at the pool's edge.

"Mom -- look out," cried Anna causing Danielle to quickly turn around just in time for the barbecued tuna hor d'oeuvers to crash head-on into the sexy silk white crop-top snugly holding her ample cleavage and the champagne to hit her squarely in the face.


"What the . . ," shouted the startled starlet before the food and champagne shower hit her and Anna, hands out to stop her own fall, sent her stumbling backwards in her towering golden heels.

Although almost everyone present was already in stitches at the scene playing out before them, Emily Duncan, who earlier in the day had borne one of Danielle's typically cruel barbs, saw a way to prolong the spectacle and, without even a shred of guilt or remorse, acted on it. Extending a false hand toward the still stumbling diva to help relieve her of her fancy little jacket, Emily Duncan surreptitiously stuck her foot out behind the backpedaling barrister which sent the already discombobulated Danielle literally flying into the pool.

As the shocked but uproariously laughing onlookers watched, the perennially fashionable Danielle Parnell, now covered with food, was knocked by her own daughter's hands (and Mrs. Duncan's well placed foot) out of her sky high heels and into the deep end of the Davidson pool. To add fuel to the fire of her indignity, the force of the blow had also caused her highly stylized captain's hat and mirrored aviator sunglasses to leave their flying wearer and float safely -- and dryly -- onto the deck.

Not being much of a swimmer and stunned by the chill of the early spring pool water, Danielle was flailing madly when she finally broke the surface of the water. What's more, her hair and make-up, which only moments before had been perfectly coiffed and applied, now appeared to be no more than a wet mop and chalky mess.

"Not so hot now is she," joked Emily Duncan to a guffawing Katherine Wray.

"You ain't seen nothin' yet sweetie," answered the willowy southerner as she grabbed the large rescue hook from the empty lifeguard stand to pull Mrs. Parnell out of the water.

In the meantime, mortified by his mother's undoing and determined to come to her rescue, Will Parnell had already shucked off his shoes, socks and shirt and was headed to his mother's aid.

"You're going to pay for this young lady," the soaked suburbanite screamed at her daughter as she tried only semi-successfully to tread water.

"You're grounded for the entire summer do you hear me."

Trying not to laugh on the outside, Anna Parnell was elated. Grounded for life would be a small price to pay for what the young girl had just been party to. But her mom's night was far from over. Before Will had completed the swim to his treading mother's rescue, Katherine Wray had managed to extend the long, hooked pole to where Danielle was clearly struggling.

"Just grab it Danielle," offered Katherine sincerely.

"Get that thing away from me you beanpole," came the typically rude rebuke, "I don't need your help . . . I don't need help from any of you losers."

"Oh is that so," thought Katherine to herself as Danielle turned her back on the tall runner to reach out to her arriving son, "I think it's time that someone taught you a lesson in humility."

While Will struggled unsuccessfully to calm his mother in the pool -- and the entire Davidson community howled in delight -- Katherine Wray eased the hook at the end of the long rescue pole into the silky waistband of Danielle's midnight blue harem pants and, unbeknownst to their wearer, began to slide them down the drowning diva's legs. In the meantime, Will, struggling to get hold of his mother under her arms so that he could swim her to the side of the pool, had inadvertently caught the latch on his steel watchband on the silk of his mother's now practically transparent white crop top.

"What are you doing Will," Danielle screamed to the crowd's delight when it finally dawned on her that she was no longer wearing pants.

In a panic she whispered to her son, "give me your shorts."

"What," came the boy's stunned reply.

"I said give me your shorts . . . my pants must have come off when I fell in . . . don't you look."

"But mom," said Will sheepishly as the two floated together toward the pool's edge, "I'm not wearing any underwear."

Shocked but without the time to chide him, Danielle as usual simply stormed ahead, "that's not my problem do you hear me . . . now get those pants off and give them to me this instant."

But before that instant passed, Katherine Wray acted yet again. As Will Parnell momentarily let go of his struggling mom to remove his only item of clothing, the sexy southerner managed to get the large "C" shaped rescue hook around Danielle's waist and began to pull her -- now sans her white crop top which as she moved tore away on Will's watch -- to safety.

"Oh my God . . . oh my God," cried Danielle as the crowd continued to go wild.

"Mom," shouted Will who, finally out of his shorts which floated beside him, had realized his mother's fate.

What happened next was the effective emancipation of Anna Parnell from her mother's reign of terror.

Having pulled Danielle to the pool's edge, Katherine Wray grabbed one of the mortified mom's arms and Emily Duncan the other thereby permitting them to lift Mrs. Parnell from the water and stand her -- barefoot and to her true height of 5' 2" -- on the deck. If the crowd had been in hysterics before, the site of the undone Danielle Parnell standing before them took their laughter to an entirely new level.

Gone was the ceaselessly sexy fashionista whose imperious stares stirred the lust of each man and the envy of every woman she would disdainfully walk on buy. Stripped away were the towering heels, the silk harem pants, the tiny tight crop top and the faux-admirals jacket. In their place, soaking wet and wearing nothing but her nautically themed jewelry and a very tiny, midnight blue G-string with a golden anchor embroidered on the tiny silk triangle covering her most private place, stood a shell-shocked Danielle Marie Parnell who, upon realizing her near naked state, was moving her hands desperately from one recently unveiled secret to the next.

What had just happened? Where were her beautiful clothes, her shoes, her sexy hat, her glasses? How could it be that she was nearly naked in front of all these . . . these . . . losers. And then . . . her silent scream was given voice.

"Oh my God . . . where are my clothes . . . I'm practically naked . . . Will . . . help mommy!!"

"I'm coming mom," cried her young son from the pool, "just as soon as I get my shorts back on . . . my shorts . . . where are my shorts???"

It was then that things started to become clear for both mother and son for as Danielle continued to try to shield herself with her hands and Will began climbing from the pool using only his hands to hide his growing manhood, Anna Parnell stepped through the parting crowd. In one of her hands she held her obnoxious brother's seersucker shorts that she had fished out of the pool while her perverted brother stared creepily at their nearly naked mom and in the other her mother's captain's and hat and sunglasses. Having stepped into Danielle's Louboutin heels, the ordinarily tall Anna now stood at over nearly 6 feet.

"You should be ashamed of yourself mother," glowered Anna at the now markedly shorter woman standing before her.

"Anna," croaked Danielle as she practically craned her neck to see her daughter staring down at her, "please . . . please give me something to wear."

Then, to the shock and delight of the entire crowd, after removing the faded white apron around her waist and unzipping and then taking off the ill-fitting, polyester maid's uniform to reveal the very fashionable black bikini she had intended to go skinny-dipping in later that night, Anna Parnell threw the cheap garment at her mother with the admonition to "put this on right now!"

As she quickly slipped into the boxy outfit that, at least two sizes too big for her, came down almost to her feet, Danielle Marie Parnell was transformed from a suburban sexpot into what appeared to be a little girl dressed in her mother's ill-fitting clothes.

While the likes of Katherine Wray, Rebecca Ross and Emily Duncan high-fived one another at the once imperious uber-MILF's comeuppance Anna, now wearing only her mother's sky high heels and a very fetching black bikini, let down her long hair and put Danielle's captain' hat and aviator shades on. Then, staring down at her mother as Mrs. Parnell had stared down so many times at her announced, "I'm the captain now . . . do you hear me!"

"Yes," stammered her cowed mother, tightly clutching the unzipped front of the horrible nylon dress to her chest.


"What did you say," shouted her daughter confidently.

"Yes ma'am, Anna, you're the captain now."

"That's right . . . now you get home before you embarrass yourself or this family anymore."

"Yes ma'am," croaked the broken show-off as, now only in her bare feet, polyester dress and G-string, she went running across the pool deck and into the clubhouse that she had graced with such sophistication only minutes before.

Still startled by her undoing, the once sexy suburbanite accidentally ran smack into Aaron Tabash who, having been in the restroom since his own shunning was only now returning back to the party.

"Hey, watch where you're going little girl," the tan stud implored.

"B-b-but Aaron . . . it's me," answered the undone diva as the young rower tried to place her, "look."

But as Danielle opened the front of her ill-fitting dress, in an attempt to regain an iota of her lost glory by showing the young man her still sexy body, the completely naked Will Parnell -- fleeing the crowd to the sound of laughter from all quarters -- ran smack into his mother clumsily relieving her of her dress and causing both of them to go crashing to the clubhouse floor.

As the crowd howled wildly, the last image they saw of Danielle Parnell before she feinted was a woman with her eyes wide as saucers, and her mouth hanging agape, staring transfixed at the raging manhood of her son that, without a touch, had, before the naked boy passed out face first in his mom's lap, deposited its contents across her gloriously tanned midsection.

After laughing hilariously at that scene, Aaron Tabash -- his confidence replenished -- made a bee-line for the new girl at the party -- the one in the high heels, bikini and sailors cap.
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Old 07-16-2016, 01:24 PM
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Great story. I'm flattered that you could use one of my "devices" in your work. Feel free to borrow anytime.
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Old 07-16-2016, 04:45 PM
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Default Well done

As always great works. You worked in my suggestion flawlessly.

Can't wait for your next installment
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