I like the Fall Ball and the Whole Foods ideas, there's a lot of interesting situations that could happen in those settings.

I predict a new chapter will be posted....now. Now. Ok, now. Now? Damn.

OK, so maybe it's less a prediction, and more wishful thinking. Can you claim me?

Chasmo, all three sound equally awesome, so I opened the Calculator program and clicked randomly with my eyes closed. :D The first number between 1 and 3 I picked was 2, so I vote for Whole Foods.

Dammit. Blame me. I have no idea how that happened.

Maybe the most into the Whole Foods idea overall, but a hypnotized orgasm or something at the Fall Ball might be fun (if that's not too overtly sexual for your style).

Whatever you end up going with, looking forward to it!

...or maybe more specifically, an orgasm triggered by something hypnotically suggested earlier in the story, so that it's a surprise to the otherwise un-hypnotized Mrs. Parnell when it occurs.

Hey great that your back. It has to be very difficult writing these especially in such detail as you do. I like the whole foods idea, nothing like a little public humiliation.

Today at Whole Foods: Clothes 100 Percent Off -- Part 1
 

Danielle Parnell chuckled inwardly as she skillfully maneuvered her brand new Mercedes convertible from one crowded lane to the next in the proverbial parking lot that was Washington, D.C. rush hour traffic. With a fake smile on her beautiful face and a wave of her perfectly manicured, highly bejeweled hand she had easily created the space into which her six-figure German chariot now slid. Having just turned 44, but with a face and body of women half her age, the 5' 3" Danielle Marie Parnell loved the effect that her beauty and wiles had on the opposite sex. For sport, she longed for the opportunity to "catch" one of the many men or boys who couldn't take his eyes off her and, in so doing, to publicly and loudly shame him for his inappropriate behavior.

"Eyes up here, Mr. Hess . . . exactly what are you staring at Dr. Bloom . . . your mother would be ashamed of you Hank Hayes," she reflected on a few of her past triumphs.

What was even sweeter to Danielle than the embarrassment heaped upon her male prey, however, was to castigate the unwitting losers in front of their wives, mothers or girlfriends and in so doing to humiliate those women with the knowledge that their men couldn't keep their eyes off Mrs. Parnell's stunning face and figure. Maybe if they took better care of themselves their mates wouldn't be so easily distracted she thought. But they don't -- the hags.

Having manipulated yet another foolish man with a mere smile and a wave, the self-satisfied power lawyer and mother of three eased her car into the circle drive of Gonzaga High School, a very prestigious all-boys institution of higher learning where her only son, Will, was just beginning his sophomore year. Ordinarily, Alia, the Parnell family nanny, was tasked with the responsibility of picking-up Will from school but due to her being sidelined with the flu -- allegedly -- Danielle was forced this day to take the task upon herself.

Although the stunning uber-MILF had texted her son earlier to make sure he was waiting at the curb when she arrived, Danielle was annoyed to see Will chatting with some of his friends as well as a small cadre of girls from Georgetown Visitation, Gonzaga's sister school, at the top of the marble staircase that descended from the venerable establishment's large oak doors down to the street. Piqued at her eldest child's inability to follow directions, Danielle put her car angrily into park and stepped out onto the sidewalk in front of his school.

"William Parnell," she bellowed, "you get down here this instant do you hear me. What is it about 'be waiting for me when I arrive' that you failed to understand."

For those male students and teachers who hadn't seen the suburban sexpot step from her car, the sound of her voice shrilly henpecking Will into submission was all they needed to focus their attention on the spectacular vision in their midst. Standing regally before them in 5" Christian Loubitan Fifi, black, patent leather heels, from which extended perfectly crafted ankles and femininely muscled calves which, covered completely in opaque black tights, disappeared immediately above her knees into a form-fitting, charcoal grey, tweed Escada pencil skirt, was every high school boy's dream.

That same fantasy was not shared either by the other mothers who had stopped to pick up their own sons -- many of whom had suffered snide comments, eye rolls or worse at the hands of Danielle in her new role as Mother's Guild President -- or by the girls from Visitation who noticed immediately the attention that seconds ago was being lavished upon them had instantly shifted to Danielle.

Up top, the preening diva sported a form-fitting Prada, black, leather, motorcycle jacket that -- zipped about one-third of the way up from her mouth-wateringly fit waist -- revealed beneath it a crisp black, cotton, Ralph Lauren form-fitting oxford shirt the top two buttons of which -- open as they were -- teased the eye with the beginnings of a tan-skinned canyon that bisected the swell of her magnificently pert and quite ample bosom. Suffice it to say, the strength of Gonzaga's standard issue khaki trousers was being tested mightily that day.

"I said this instant," the raging beauty continued, as fire filled her emerald eyes and the wind tossed her spectacularly coiffed brown mane, highlighted with wisps of blonde.

"Ooooh, William," teased Callum Duncan, who had been talking to Will when his mom arrived, "you better hurry up so your mommy doesn't spank you."

"Shut up Callum," Will responded angrily, once again wishing his mother didn't always insist on embarrassing him in front of his friends -- particularly in front of the girls who were now all pointing and giggling at him.

"Tough talk wimp," added Sam Sweeney, one of Will's classmates who was a great athlete and --having already made his way through puberty -- looked more a man than boy, "maybe if I'm a bad little boy like you your MILF-y mommy will give me a spanking."

As Callum, Sam and the other kids laughed heartily at his expense, Will Parnell made his way toward his mother's car. Unfortunately for him, and adding exponentially to his indignity, Danielle determined he was not moving quickly enough and, grabbing him by his ear as she practically dragged him to the passenger side door loudly chided "when I say now I mean now young man."

As if that wasn't degrading enough for the humiliated boy, the preening alpha lawyer next proceeded to veritably strut up the stairs to where Will's tormentors remained and, staring menacingly up into the shocked Sam Sweeney's face, haughtily proclaimed, "I heard what you said little boy and if you were my son Sam Sweeney – more like Sam Weenie -- I wouldn't hesitate for a minute to give you the spanking you so heartily deserve. Given your churlish manners I expect your mother deserves one even more -- shame on the both of you."

As the usually hyper-confident Sam stood speechless and clearly embarrassed, Callum Duncan and the other boys who witnessed his humbling could only laugh. What made it worse was that Sam's new girlfriend -- the 18 year old Amanda Silver -- was also laughing hysterically.

"I guess she showed you tough guy," one boy teased.

"See you tomorrow -- little boy," laughed another.

“Yeah, adios Sam Weenie,” joshed a third.

"Cut it out you jerks," the embarrassed "big man on campus" whined weakly, before turning red-faced to Amanda.

"I think it would be best if we were only friends for now," the stunning red head informed him as she turned to walk away. "I should really be dating guys my own age."

Cut to his very quick, the castigated teen seethed to his friend Callum, "that Mrs. Parnell is such a snob -- someday she's going to get hers and I just hope I'm there to see it."

"Me too," said Callum as he thought about how Will's pushy but ridiculously hot mom might be taken down a peg or two, "my mom says she's nothing but an arrogant show-off."

Meanwhile, satisfied with what she perceived as the defense of her son's "dignity," Danielle slid into her waiting Mercedes and eased her car back out into traffic.

"Mom," whined Will, "why did you do that? Now all the guys are going to make fun of me even more."

"Be quiet Will -- I did that to show you that you need to stick up for yourself, so you don't end up looking like a fool," snapped Danielle. "By the way, with Alia supposedly sick, we're going to need to stop at Whole Foods in Annapolis on the way home to pick up some groceries and I expect you to help me carry them."

"Yes, mom," Will said dejectedly without the least hint of resistance.

If only he had remembered that Sam Sweeney worked after school as a stock boy at the Annapolis Whole Foods, Will may have protested his mom's decision. If he had any idea that Sam got the job because his mother, Mrs. Sweeney, was the Whole Foods manager, he would have been wise to insist they shop elsewhere. Unfortunately -- he did not.

* * *
Pulling into the Whole Foods parking lot, Danielle quickly spied a car backing out from a desirable spot near the entrance. That someone else had clearly been waiting for it meant nothing to the entitled prima donna who, without as much as a wave or a mouthed "excuse me," whisked speedily into the vacated parking space whilst the person who had been idling patiently was blocked by the departure of its former occupant.

"Mom," Will implored as his mother opened her door to head into the grocery store, "that lady was waiting for this spot."

"Well she can keep waiting until we're done then can't she," replied his mother frostily, "you snooze, you lose -- now let's go."

Then, glancing at the shopping cart that was pressed against her bumper -- due to her carelessly running into it rather than it rolling into the car -- the supercilious diva continued, "typical, some fat, stay-at-home cow decides to carelessly roll her cart across the lot and none of these useless stock boys can find a moment to move it. The manager is going to hear about this."

Rachel Miras couldn't believe her ears -- well, actually she could -- that officious show-off Parnell, who liked nothing more than strutting around Davidsonville in her high fashion outfits while teasing every man she saw and shaming every woman, had not only just snaked her out of a parking spot but explained to her son when he questioned that decision the virtue of her unbridled arrogance. And that she was going to give the manager an earful after she blindly hit a shopping cart -- unbelievable. Turning to her own son Billy, a classmate of Will's at Gonzaga who had tagged along with Rachel to pick up some groceries, Mrs. Miras lamented, "just once I'd like to see the tables turned on her." That time was nigh.

* * *

With Will pushing the shopping cart behind her, Mrs. Parnell announced her entrance by way of the tell-tale click clacking of her high heels on Whole Foods' Spanish-tiled floors. Although that sound is music to the ears of men and boys the world over, when it heralds the coming of a beauty as spectacular as Mrs. Parnell it makes for an even sweeter song. Not surprisingly then, and despite most of them having put in a long day at the office themselves, the male population of the trendy organic market stood a bit straighter, smiled a bit brighter and . . . stoking the fire of their target's insatiable ego even further . . . stared a bit harder as Danielle Marie Parnell stalked the aisles before them with a little extra sway in her shapely hips soaking in their adulation.

Although she looked with disdain on the pathetic soccer moms, den mothers, math teachers and other assorted cubicle monkeys that constituted the stores general female shopping population -- all of whom she deemed unworthy in her presence -- she took extreme pleasure in stealing the gazes of their male spouses, sons and other erstwhile companions. As she so often reminded herself, "the men all want to see me and the women all want to be me."

Not accustomed to doing her own shopping, Danielle expected that there would be no upside to the menial exercise. That thought abandoned her, however, when she spotted the heavy-set woman who, bedecked in flat, black, comfortable, rubber soled shoes, ill-fitting rayon pants and an untucked, over-sized, black cotton oxford shirt emblazoned with the words Whole Foods Market on one shabby pocket and Manager on the other.

Laughing to herself at the pathetic juxtaposition between her own majestic beauty and the side-show presented by the half-witted cow of a grocery jockey standing before her, Mrs. Parnell haughtily implored, "excuse me . . . you there . . . Miss . . ," staring at the manager's name tag, "Sweeney is it . . . well, it doesn't matter what your name is anyway. Whichever one of your hapless, slothful stock boys was tasked with taking care of errant shopping carts in the parking lot clearly fell down on the job. If I discover my car was dented because of his neglect I expect Whole Foods will be writing me a check for any repairs."

Will cringed.

Although clearly this imperious woman had no idea who Sally was, Mrs. Sally Sweeney recognized the domineering know-it-all standing before her in an instant. With her son Sam on a full athletic scholarship to Gonzaga High School, Mrs. Sweeney had been witness to the antics of Danielle Marie Parnell at a host of school events.

Whether she was preening in front of the snack shack at Sam's high school football games with her sky-high wedge heels, skin-tight white jeans and form fitting purple turtle neck, hosting the annual Fall Ball in some high fashion gown that profiled the tits, legs and ass she used to mercilessly tease boys and men alike or taking other mothers to task in one of her severe business suits for being tardy to a Mothers' Guild meeting, Mrs. Danielle Parnell was an officious, arrogant show-off. Sadly, Sally new that if she had any hope of becoming a Whole Foods regional manager she needed to deal with the likes of Mrs. Parnell with a smile on her face -- if not a song in her heart.

"I'm terribly sorry about that ma'am," Sally said with all the sincerity she could muster. "I'll make sure to have a word with the staff and remind them how important it is to keep on top of the carts out there. And do let us know if there is any damage to your car."

Put off by the civility of Sally Sweeny's kind reply, Danielle decided to make it clear to this woman who was boss. "Perhaps in addition to simply having a word with those miscreants you could lead by example and move some of those carts yourself," Danielle intoned before, as always, loudly firing one parting shot, "God knows you can certainly use the exercise."

It was all Sally could do not to slap the little tart standing before her. But, through a tightly forced smile, the defeated Mrs. Sweeney simply said, "thank you for the suggestion."

The small crowd of women that had gathered to witness Danielle's verbal onslaught of the poor store-keep, including Rachel Miras, was as much outraged by the little narcissist's vile treatment of Sally as it was impressed by Mrs. Sweeney's ability to maintain her composure. All the male witnesses on the other hand were mesmerized by the uber-MILF's domination of the frumpy store manager which made them long all the more for the sexy suburbanite; all the male witnesses that is but one.

Sam Sweeney was running late for work due to his dressing down by Mrs. Parnell at school and had thus missed the lion's share of the confrontation involving his mom but -- fastening his regulation Whole Foods apron around his waist as he came through the store's sliding doors -- he witnessed to his shock and dismay the tail end of his mother's humiliation at the hands of the same woman who only thirty minutes before had left him tongue tied and embarrassed in front of his teammates and girlfriend -- well ex-girlfriend -- on the Gonzaga High School steps. Someone needed to turn the tables on Will's mom he thought to himself -- but who, and how. It was at that moment that he heard a familiar voice call out from behind him.

"Hey Sam," came the call of Billy Miras, Gonzaga's most notorious prankster and mischief maker, "you gotta' minute."

Looking good so far. I think by this point in the thread, you've probably already figured out what I'm going to say.
1. Awesome.
2. More victims (Amanda this time, from the way you've set things up, though Nicole is always my favorite. Also, one of these days you could do something with Katherine Wray).
3. And of course, generally just morrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrre.

Off to a great start, Danielle is even my arrogant then I can reall, her comuppance is going to be great. Loved the way she threaten to spank the boys, so you know whats coming for her beside "cloths off". Not sure if Amanda getting it fits the story line, but hey works for me.

Today at Whole Foods: Clothes 100 Percent Off -- Part 2
 

Billy Miras was nothing if not a planner which was in large part why his pranks were always so successful. Whether it was something as simple as putting chalk sticks in the grooves of a blackboard eraser or as complex as capturing a rival high school's mascot, the young trickster prided himself on his mastery of the art of the prank. This time, however, even before he approached Sam Sweeney about seeking some form of revenge on the always arrogant Mrs. Parnell, he knew he'd need to improvise.

"Make it fast Miras," was Sam Sweeney's first reaction to Billy's entreaty, "if I don't get to work soon to burn up some energy I'm going to slug Will's mom right in her turned up nose."

"And end up kicked off the team, expelled from school and maybe even spending some time in jail," responded Billy who had not yet learned from Sam about the football hero's own comeuppance at the hands of Mrs. Parnell, "I think I may have a better way to help you exact some revenge on that stuck-up fancy pants with far less risk to your future."

"I'm listening," said Sam.

Billy went on to explain that in his experience a sure-fired way to take down someone like Will Parnell's mom was to somehow shake her confidence, get her out of her comfort zone, make her feel silly for once. Although he and Sam -- now his new, eager, co-conspirator -- would need to play this one by ear, Billy was sure they could create some mischief that would take the preening narcissist down a peg. Maybe, Billy suggested, they could go so far as to make her lose her icy cold affect and, instead of disdainfully tossing out snide comments from "on high," have Mrs. Cool end up frantic and harried -- shouting somebody down in public. At the very least, he offered, they could try to arrange for her to slip on a banana peel. Not in their wildest dreams -- even the wet ones -- could they have imagined what was actually soon to transpire.

* * *

Spinning on the very high heel of one of her patent leather Louboutin shoes and flush with the thrill of humiliating that pathetic cow Sweeney, Mrs. Parnell dispatched Will with the cart to fetch the bulk of the items on the list she had received from Alia. Danielle meanwhile headed for the meat and poultry counter at the back of the store, took a number and waited -- impatiently -- for the butcher to call her turn. During that wait, and after freshening up her ruby red lipstick, the comely counselor slipped a dainty foot from one of her towering shoes to scratch an itch on the back of her other leg's calf. Unbeknownst to her at the time, that simple, elegant act of nonchalance was about to trigger a chain of events that no one present would ever soon forget.

"I have an idea," Billy whispered to Sam as they spied on the fetching alpha-lawyer from behind a tall display of soup cans.

"What is it," asked Sam eagerly.

"You just get down to the end of the frozen food aisle there to make sure no one is coming," ordered the prankster-in-chief, "and hurry!"

As Sam ran off, Billy Miras stared transfixed by the vision of Will's mother in front of him. As he watched her tights encased right foot rub up and down on the chiseled calf of her sexy left leg all that was missing was the sound effect -- that delicious faint scratching that nylon makes when rubbed against itself. But this was no time for fantasy. Snapping out of his reverie Billy Miras knew he had to act now or lose his chance. Moving as stealthily as possible from behind the soup display he came up alongside the magnificent Mrs. Parnell just as her free foot was searching for its now empty Louboutin shoe. And then he did it -- as naturally as possible while walking past her on the right, Billy "accidentally" kicked Danielle's empty $450 shoe straight down the center of the frozen food aisle.

"Mrs. Parnell," Billy stammered employing as best he could the two years he spent in the school's drama club, "I'm so sorry -- I didn't mean . . ."

But before he could get his next word out he was cut off by the angry beauty who was both livid that this little Cretan had kicked her expensive shoe three quarters of the way down the aisle and somewhat embarrassed that with only one shoe she looked a bit out of sorts.

"You . . . little . . . idiot," she seethed, emphasizing her choice of words and not realizing that Rachel Miras was within earshot, "that shoe is worth more than your mother makes in a week."

Although he needed to appear penitent and collected on the outside, on the inside Billy was elated. This is exactly the reaction he was going for -- and Sam got to see it too. Mission accomplished. Little did he know the mission had only just begun.

"You're right, Mrs. Parnell, I'm an idiot . . . I am sooo sorry," Billy continued, hamming it up a bit for good measure. "Let me go get that for you," he offered -- an offer that the haughty woman should have accepted.

"I think you've done quite enough already, Mr. Miras, and I don't need your offers of false chivalry," Danielle retorted, "I'm most capable of retrieving my own shoe, thank you very much."

Pleased as punch with having discombobulated the perennially confident Mrs. Parnell, Billy Miras watched with glee as Danielle -- with only one very high heel still on -- hobbled off to collect its towering mate. The small spectacle was likewise enjoyed by Sam Sweeney and a number of the very women -- including Rachel Miras, Sally Sweeney and, having just arrived at the store with her son Callum, Emily Duncan -- each of whom the imperious diva so looked down upon and insulted too many times to count.

Keeping a stiff upper lip so as not to give the peasants witnessing her discomfiture any satisfaction, Danielle at last arrived at her shoe which had ultimately became wedged at the base of an open dairy locker. Turning her back toward the locker, and with as much poise as she could muster, Mrs. Parnell lowered her spectacularly fit bottom, sheathed in her very fashionable grey, tweed skirt atop the locker's lip before reaching down to retrieve her errant footwear.

Unfortunately for the comely counselor, as she lifted her foot up to put her high fashion, red-soled, Christian Louboutin pump back on, she overbalanced and fell, crashing backward into an assortment of frozen pizzas, ice creams and vegetables.

For those onlookers who had not yet returned to the banality of grocery shopping-- particularly the likes of Rachel Miras and the other moms who had already taken no small amount of joy in watching the arrogant Danielle Parnell hobbling after her lost shoe -- the sight of the self-proclaimed Queen Bee's spectacular tights covered legs flailing wildly as she struggled among the cases of frozen peas unleashed no small amount of laughter and finger pointing. For Billy and Sam, who high-fived one another as the angry authoritarian attempted to regain her feet, this vaudevillian pratfall was nothing but an unexpected bonus.

As Danielle continued kicking to try to regain some semblance of earth bound purchase, her Prada leather jacket began to get soaked, the front of her form fitting shirt became untucked and, unnoticed by anyone just yet, her high fashion Escada pencil skirt began to ride up revealing not the unending, black, opaque nylon tights one might have imagined a sensible mom to be sporting but rather the tell-tale welting -- in this case leopard print -- that confirmed the suddenly distressed damsel was wearing thigh highs. But that secret was for now preserved because, although she had managed to kick off her other shoe in the process, the more than slightly disheveled Mrs. Parnell had at last gotten the situation under control and hauled herself from the locker -- seemingly a good deal shorter than before she fell in.

Staring daggers at the crowd that had gathered to witness her struggle, Danielle stepped back into her heels and, doffing and hanging on a nearby cart the Prada leather jacket that had become water-stained in back during her escape, revealed to all her magnificently fit arms that appeared in all their glory thanks to the form-fitting, sleeveless black, cotton, Ralph Lauren oxford shirt she wore underneath.

Although the tail of her shirt remained untucked in back and her luxurious brown hair, so immaculately coiffed when she entered the store mere minutes before, was now somewhat in disarray with strands of the lavish mane falling in her face, it was clear that Danielle was quickly regaining her swagger as she carefully scouted out the faces before her ready to make someone pay for her recent indignity. How dare these peons take pleasure in her misfortune, she inwardly fumed.

And then -- as if scolding a group of misbehaving children, and to the joy of Billy and Sam who couldn't believe how well their simple prank had panned out -- Danielle, without her customary cool began, "well I hope you're all proud of yourselves. Standing there pointing and snickering while not offering me even the slightest hint of help."

Turning to Emily Duncan, who as the District Attorney of Davidson often came before "Judge" Parnell when Danielle heard cases in the Davidson Municipal Courthouse on a pro bono basis, "what about you Duncan -- do you feel happy that you got one over on me . . . you . . . you two-bit charlatan. Let's see if you're snickering the next time you show up in my court room."

"Or you Miras," Mrs. Parnell raged on, less composed than usual due to her recent spill, "are you proud of that idiot son over there cackling like a hyena? Perhaps when the two of you return to the Shire you could teach him some manners."

"That's right you," the gorgeous beauty continued as she wheeled around to face Billy Miras -- her usually cool, superior demeanor devolving into an uncharacteristic furor of perceived persecution, "I know your little stunt was no accident. You people disgust me."

As the still sexy Mrs. Parnell continued to lambaste the crowd before her, a broad smile began to emerge across the face of Callum Duncan, who standing directly behind the lovely lawyer was the first to notice that the zipper in the back of the imperious beauty's skirt must have been damaged by her fall into the frozen food locker. What's more, tooth by tooth, without its snooty wearer realizing a thing, the broken zipper was beginning to gape open and the sexy grey skirt to very slowly begin to move down Danielle's magnificently shaped hips revealing -- to Callum's delight -- a band of delicate black lace atop -- was that leopard print?

And then it happened . . .

Aha! Another fan of Strip in Aisle Nine! It's one of my favorites too, though I hope this one ends differently. I'm not a fan of that author's particular fetish ending.

Indeed! I made sure to give props to Hal in my post about current ideas but hopefully I've done enough original work here to make this story stand (or fall) on its own merits. As for the Depends or non-consensual sex pieces of his original -- worry not! They won't be making it into this tale. Hope to have the final part or two up by the weekend. Thanks to all for the encouragement and feedback!

If possible you've made Danielle more arrogant then ever, the ending is going to be fun.

Yeah, you were pretty blatant in your "3 options" post, I have no idea how I missed it.

I made myself a slightly edited version of Strip in Aisle Nine that removes the parts I don't like, but I can already tell that your far, FAR improved version will take its place.

Speaking of which, one of the things I edited out was the loss of shoes. I'm glad you did too :D Big fan of heels.

Today at Whole Foods: Clothes 100 Percent Off -- Part 3
 

. . . as Danielle moved ever closer to Billy and Rachel Miras, jabbing the air before their faces with her exquisitely manicured finger while explaining to them both that although they may be laughing for the moment, in the long run she would always be their better . . . it happened. Due to its damaged zipper failing completely, the very fashionable, grey, tweed, Escada skirt, that had so perfectly encased the arrogant Mrs. Parnell's fabulously exercised ass, slipped over the swell of her mesmerizing hips and fell precipitously to a pool at her high-heeled feet.

For an instant, the slack jawed onlookers, who were still being berated by the imperious diva -- now wearing only her sky high Louboutin heels, opaque black thigh high stockings topped off with a leopard print welt, tiny black, lace thong, with a translucent triangle of leopard print silk in front and a much smaller triangle of the same fabric in back, and a black, sleeveless, cotton Ralph Lauren blouse -- stared at the sight before them in shocked silence.

In that same instant, unyielding in her tempestuousness, and too caught up in her castigation of the Miras family to immediately appreciate her predicament, Danielle stepped right out of her now ruined garment which Emily Duncan, who had been standing behind the soon to be shocked Mrs. Parnell with her son Callum, quickly grabbed and secreted into her own grocery cart.

"Mommy," croaked a shocked Will Parnell, breaking the silence as he wheeled around the corner of the frozen foods aisle only to confront his gorgeous mother standing skirt-less before him, "I . . . I . . . can . . . see . . . your . . . p- . . . p- . . . panties!"

And then -- as Mrs. Parnell followed her son's gaze down to her now skirt-less legs -- the crowd erupted in laughter.

"Oh my God," screamed the stunned Danielle, "my skirt . . . where's my skirt?" But, thanks to the quick work of Emily Duncan, when the distracted diva looked down at her tan, toned but nervously shaking legs, there was nothing to be seen.

As the likes of Sally Sweeny and Rachel Miras doubled over in laughter, those men and boys who had witnessed the dominating diva's skirt hitting the ground collectively groaned at the sight of her absolutely perfect thong-covered ass now fully on display.

Danielle was in shock as she tried simultaneously to shield her mouth-wateringly tight bottom and, up front, her nearly visible sex, atop which, discerned through a sheer triangle of leopard silk, could be spied a neatly trimmed landing strip. Her usually agile mind was in complete disarray. What just happened? How could these nobodies be staring, laughing and leering at her -- in her panties. And Will, was he . . . oh my God . . . he and all his friends . . . look at their trousers . . . they're . . . hard. She needed cover -- her Prada. But by the time it dawned on Danielle to reach for her exclusive leather jacket she realized it too -- thanks again to Mrs. Duncan -- had disappeared.

"Where are my clothes," screamed the now-panicking beauty causing the laughter of her audience to increase audibly.

As confused as he was aroused by the site of his usually calm, cool and collected mother standing before him in barely there animal print panties, with her eyes the size of saucers and her mouth agape, Will new he should do something to help -- and -- despite a small part of him reveling that for once she was the one embarrassed, he began to take off his Gonzaga blazer and to move toward Danielle to cover her.

Unfortunately for Will, who couldn't peel his eyes from the site of his sexy mom's distress, he didn't see the frozen cylinder of Pillsbury Cinnamon Swirls that had fallen from the dairy locker squarely into his path. Fortunately for everyone else but his mother, the fall that resulted from Will stepping directly on the solidified snack sent him careening toward the now cowering former alpha-mom.

Throwing his jacket aside in order to free his hands, Will grasped for the first thing he could find to break his fall -- the lapels of his mother's sleeveless, fitted, black, cotton blouse. In one fell swoop, as fabric audibly tore and buttons popped in all directions, Danielle Marie Parnell was stripped of her very fashionable, very expensive, Ralph Lauren shirt.

The cacophony of the crowd's howls grew ever louder at the sight of the town's biggest tease and most officious snob standing there before them wearing nothing but her ridiculously high heels, black thigh high stockings secured by leopard print welting to her fantastic legs, tiny leopard print thong and a matching black lace and leopard print push-up bra, the diaphanous nature of which provided a sign to all that they were most definitely in the frozen food aisle.

"Mee-owww," joked Rachel Miras.

"How very inappropriate your honor," teased Emily Duncan who had suffered so often the barbs of the now-humiliated diva.

And then, after snapping a picture with her phone, Emily in a mocking tone continued, "I may just have to report this to the bar association."

I'm ruined, thought Danielle to herself as she tried desperately to cover her incredible body with her hands to absolutely no avail.

"Will, help mommy," she shouted at her son who still prone on the floor was just getting up to his knees, "your jacket -- give me your jacket you idiot."

But unfortunately for Mrs. Parnell, as her son looked up and for the first time noticed that his mom was standing only in her heels, thigh highs, thong and bra, his hormones and a vestigial Oedipal instinct took over. As the boy kneeled there open-mouthed, his eyes transfixed on his mother's barely clad body in a shocked stare of mixed emotion, the mirthful crowd watched a dark bloom growing before them in the nether regions of the teenager’s otherwise perfectly pressed khaki pants. And then, having expressed his confused feelings about his mother wordlessly, Will Parnell proceeded to pass out on top of his Gonzaga blazer.

Looking at Will lying there, and thinking back to the barb hurled at her by the boy's now humiliated mother, Rachel Miras couldn't resist, "so are you proud of that idiot son over there lying in his own mess?"

Forgetting her near naked state for a moment, the ceaselessly arrogant Mrs. Parnell -- staring daggers at Mrs. Miras -- reared back to slap the offending creature in the face. But no sooner had her hand begun its journey forward then was it stopped mid-path by the powerful hand of Mrs. Sally Sweeny, who after suffering this woman's arrogance earlier and since then hearing about how Danielle had humiliated Sam at school, decided that being a Regional Manager for Whole Foods was not going to be in the cards.

"That's quite enough out of you, you little tease," bellowed the store's manager as, pulling Danielle's hand behind her own back, she walked the once imperious sexpot halfway down the aisle to where a stool sat to permit the shorter stock boys to reach the higher shelves.

"Oww . . . stop that . . . unhand me you cow," protested the nearly broken uber-MILF, "who do you think you are?"

"I'm the woman who is finally going to put you in your place missy," raged Mrs. Sweeny as she took a seat on the vacant stool and pulled the once haughty honey across her lap, "by giving you the spanking you so royally deserve, the spanking that you threatened my son with . . . and the spanking you suggested to him that I needed."

At this point the crowd was in complete hysterics. The women were cheering on their new hero while the men were waiting breathlessly to see the sexiest woman they knew brought very, very low.

Before Sally began what would be the end of Mrs. Parnell, and in response to the diminutive beauty attempting to break free, Mrs. Sweeny relieved Danielle of her leonine bra and used it to secure the petulant prima donna's hands behind her back."

"How dare you," cried Danielle who, lifting her head as she shouted gave the gathered men the view of her bare breasts that they all had coveted for so long.

"Enough," Sally sternly decried as she began to rain spanks down on the thong covered ass of her prey.

"That's for strutting around town like you own the place," Mrs. Sweeny smiled.

"And that's for teasing our men . . . for calling me fat . . . for taking Rachel's parking spot . . .," the list went on as the crowd cheered wildly.

"And that's for embarrassing my son," Sally Sweeny said at last relenting a bit but still holding the completely broken diva across her lap.

"Now before I let you up . . . and kick your sweet little ass out of my store . . . you're going to apologize to Sam," the big boned grocer finished.

By this point, Sam Sweeny, who could not have imagined when he arrived at work thirty minutes before the sweet revenge that had just transpired, was standing immediately in front of where Danielle's sweaty face, with her hair disheveled, hung from his mother's lap.

"I said apologize," demanded Sally delivering yet another strike to the reddened but no less spectacular bottom of Danielle Parnell.

Struggling to look up, Danielle Parnell, whose mind was reeling and who had been crying like a baby, found herself staring directly into the crotch of the young, hard athlete whose own pants were stretched to the limit by his raging manhood.

With Danielle still silent, Sam Sweeny gave her a bit of her own medicine, "who is the little girl now . . . huh, cry baby," he teased.

"I am," Danielle whispered.

"He can't hear you," came Mrs. Sweeny's loud retort.

And then, more loudly, Danielle croaked, "I am . . . I'm the little girl . . . a very naughty little girl."

"A naughty girl who got a spanking," Sam teased, getting harder by the second.

"Yes . . . Mr. Sweeny . . . your mommy gave me a spanking for being naughty," Danielle driveled on, "I hope you'll still be friends with my son Will. He really likes you."

"And I like him too, Danielle," Sam said -- loving that he called the arrogant adult by her first name, "I'm sure he and you will be seeing a lot more of me."

Then, after quietly apologizing to "Mr. Sweeny," and as she began to lose consciousness from her abject humiliation, the once imperious uber-MILF, her eyes fixated on the bulge in the young man's pants in front of her, softly so that only he could hear, said, "I . . . I . . . I . . want Sam's weenie."

You all do, Sam smiled to himself, cocksure once again.

* * *

With the elated crowd's help, after stuffing the town's former Queen Bee, wearing only her heels, thigh highs and thong, into one shopping cart and her still catatonic son Will into another. Sally Sweeny rolled them both out of the store . . . and directly into the side panel of their very fancy Mercedes Benz.

A fantastic tribute. Well done.

Gotta keep this active even if Chasmo deserves a bit of a rest, I'd say. So, given the other two choices (assuming they still are), I pick Palin over Fall Ball. I like suits better than dresses, though otherwise both options sound great.

Find story
 

your writings are always enjoyable to read Chasmo. Looking forward to the next one, maybe Palin over Fall Ball..:) Does anyone have or know where to find the story by Hal called Strip in Aisle Nine? I've searched by have had no luck finding it. :(

You guys are more into Palin, huh? I pick Fall Ball if we're voting for next.

Chasmo, great job as always with the Whole Foods story!

First -- thanks to all for your kind comments and general feedback -- it's genuinely appreciated. Either of Fall Ball or the Palin story will likely be a January 2016 effort. As to which one comes first, I'll keep an eye out for additional preferences and then make a game time decision. In the interim, if there is interest, I may try to do a Danielle Parnell Christmas short. There will be far less build up than usual and the story will be fairly self contained but I'm hoping that regular readers who already know many of the characters will enjoy it nonetheless. If that sounds good to you all I'll do my best to have it up by Wednesday night. In the meantime, thanks again!

Palin
 

While I'm not a Palin person exactly, I like the idea of a "celebrity" of types coming in to stir things up in town.

We've had a lot of these stories based situations similar to "Fall Ball" idea so a change of pace would be enjoyable

I don't really understand the question, since there's only one right answer.

Yes please.

A little feedback
 

Love your writing. Your build up is great, but I feeling the stripping humiliation part could longer. Also, things of than a brief spanking would be nice, live WAM and/or tickling. Pantyfilling with pies, etc. would be outstanding. Just a little feedback and suggestions from a fan of your work. :)

A Holiday Surprise: Unwrapped at the Christmas Pageant
 

First, apologies for taking so long to get what was supposed to be a pre-holiday short posted. I ran into some health issues on Christmas Eve and am only now beginning to recover (not looking for sympathy -- merely an explanation). I'll also own up to this not being my best work and apologize in advance for any qualitative fall-off. That said, as always, I hope that you enjoy. BTW, it looks like Sarah Palin will share the stage with Danielle for the next installment which I hope to have up next month.

* * *
"Mom, hurry up . . . it's almost time for my solo," pleaded ten year old Maria Parnell who, dressed as an angel, was making her first appearance in the annual St. Mary's Christmas Pageant.

"Just stand still, Maria," chided her mother, Danielle Marie Parnell, as she wiped Maria's face down with a moistened tissue, "that ridiculous Silver woman has put so much makeup on you that you look like a cross between a harlot and a clown."

Seeing her daughter's eyes well-up, the ordinarily unfeeling alpha-lawyer realized she had gone too far.

"Now you look perfect sweetie," she said softly, "like mommy's little angel should."

As the little girl's frown turned quickly upside down, warmed by her mother's affection, she hugged Danielle saying, "thanks mom . . . love you," and headed for the stage.

Walking down from the stage and out to her seat in the front row of St. Mary's Basilica in Annapolis, Danielle basked in the lustful stares from the town's gathered men and boys none of whom could pull his eyes away from the stylish and sexy uber-MILF. Bedecked in holiday finery, the stunning 44 year-old, with a face and body that rivaled women half her age, looked truly spectacular.

Stemming from a towering 5" pair of Christian Louboutin off-white patent leather pumps, the diminutive beauty's perfectly sculpted ankles and exquisitely muscled calves disappeared above the knee beneath the flared skirt of an ivory, satin Balenciaga dress, the top of which, cinched tightly at her athletic waist, was effectively a sleeveless bodice that left no doubt as to the ample nature of the sexy suburbanite's ample bosom. Danielle's spectacular toned shoulders, tanned as was the rest of her from a recent Caribbean sojourn, were covered by a white and silver fur lynx shrug that opened in the front to profile her mouthwatering cleavage and d****d downward from her supple neck to the feminine turn of each elbow masking from view the upper portion of Mrs. Parnell's leanly muscled arms.

Befitting the classic elegance of her winter ensemble, Danielle's shoulder length brown mane, kissed by blonde highlights from her time in the equatorial sun, shimmered regally. Her emerald eyed visage, made up in subtle, natural hues, was rendered more alluring by the Christmas red lipstick that framed her perfect, white smile.

None of this was lost on Mrs. Parnell's admirers, whose adoration on the one hand fed her limitless ego while on the other filled her with disdain both for the pathetic voyeurs themselves -- perverted losers -- as well as for their wives and girlfriends -- the cows. In fact, one of Danielle's biggest thrills came from the one-two punch of not only calling out some suburban father whose gaze lingered a bit too longingly at her stellar beauty but doing it loudly, and publicly, in front of his wife or daughter so as to cause them to share in his humiliation. What peasants they are -- all of them.

Despite her disdain for the general population, the manipulative minx also new exactly how to use her wiles to further her ends -- or in this case those of one of her children. As a general rule, the annual St. Mary's Christmas Pageant was a seasonal celebration for the entire Davidson community. It typically featured performances by adult and children's choirs, the local chamber orchestra, the St. Mary's Bell Ringers and other similar fare.

Of course, the pageant not surprisingly also profiled soloists and small groups, be they instrumental or vocal. As a very talented young singer, Maria Parnell had been selected from the children's choir to perform a duet with young Jackson Wray, the cute-as-a-button son of Mrs. Katherine Wray who, like Danielle, was one of Davidson's most attractive women. For Maria this was a dream come true. The little girl not only loved to sing but believed that sharing the stage with young Jackson Wray would be a boatload of fun. Her mother on the other hand perceived the idea of a duet as an affront to young Maria's talent and made it her mission to ensure that her daughter's "star turn" came in the form of a solo.

The execution of that mission required merely that Danielle Marie Parnell play to her greatest strength -- the manipulation of men. In this case that man was Adam Hess who, in addition to periodically serving as a bailiff when Danielle sat on a pro bono basis as a judge in Davidson Municipal Court, was one of a very few men with whom Mrs. Parnell was willing to waste even a moment of her time. In fact, despite her contempt for his having married that ridiculous Rebecca Ross, Danielle found the athletic, six foot four Mr. Hess, although clearly a barbarian, to be quite attractive.

What's more, she knew he was unable to resist her charms as she had often caught him staring at her in the court room and, on more than one occasion, loudly chided him for doing so. She had already used that fact to her advantage in helping her son Will gain admission to the prestigious Gonzaga High School where Mr. Hess was both an alumnus and a trustee. That he was also the "chief bottle washer" for the Christmas Pageant would make Danielle's mission a cakewalk. Thus, completely cognizant of both her beauty and guile, the sexy solicitor, with a smile on her face, had earlier in the day been easily able to again bend the hapless Hess to her will in turning the Parnell-Wray duet into Maria Parnell's solo.

Katherine Wray was also capable of turning men's and boys' heads, particularly attired as she was for the Christmas Pageant in a very form-fitting red wrap-dress and high black heels. Unlike Mrs. Parnell, however, Mrs. Wray was almost completely unaware of her pulchritude or its impact on the opposite sex. That fact, together with her easy going Southern style and genuinely friendly demeanor, generally made her equally attractive, inside and out, to men and women alike.

That said, upon discovering when she arrived with her son Jackson at St. Mary's that the young boy would not be singing a duet but would rather be just another voice in the chorus, Mrs. Wray's ordinarily laid back approach to life turned on a dime. When she further learned that the reason for the change was the meddling of one Danielle Parnell, Katherine determined, then and there, to finally stand up to the diminutive little show-off and make sure that for once she didn't get her way.

And so, as holiday revelers continued to take their seats in the cavernous house of worship, Katherine Wray left hers to head up onto the large makeshift stage set up in the buildings great choir to make certain that Jackson was restored to his "rightful" role. As the towering southern belle stormed past Mrs. Parnell's front row seat, the latter woman smiled like the Cheshire Cat delighted that her machinations had once again undercut one of Davidson's "lesser" women.

As Mrs. Wray reached the top of the stage, she recalled that Maria and Jackson were originally scheduled to open the show by descending, dressed as angels and singing sweetly, on a platform that was to be lowered from a catwalk high above the stage -- and out of the site line of the audience.

Looking up, and with mere minutes before the pageant was to begin, the lithe beauty spied Amanda Silver and Miranda Ross, two Davidson teens now nearly twenty, helping Maria Parnell get situated on the platform for the grand opening. Knowing she needed to intervene quickly, Katherine grabbed her own son from the chorus and made her way with him to the ladder -- on the stage's wing -- that led up to the catwalk high above.

As the leggy runner began her ascent in a pair 5" heels, the neck of any man within eye-shot snapped to attention to take in the glory of her intensely exercised legs. That each step she precipitously climbed gave them a better view of her spectacular build was merely icing on the cake to her nearly drooling admirers. What's more, in her determination to reinsert young Jackson into the spotlight, Katherine neglected to realize that as the terrified child climbed up behind her, his ten year old hand was clutching for dear life the festive red tie that held her fashionable wrap dress in place.

Spying Mrs. Wray and her son ascending the towering stage wing ladder toward the catwalk from which Maria was going to make her grand entrance, Danielle's mirth turned quickly to concern.

"That gawky bean pole," Mrs. Parnell thought to herself, "she's going to try to steal my little girl's thunder by putting that half-witted son of hers back in the show . . . not on my watch."

With that thought, and as confidently as ever, the emerald-eyed uber-MILF hastily rose from her seat and took wing toward the stage after the meddling Katherine Wray, relishing as she strode toward the ladder how she would take the boyish nobody down a peg or two.

In the meantime, Amanda Silver, whose mother Nicole was by day also a powerful D.C. alpha lawyer but on this night was the volunteer director of the children's chorus, and Miranda Ross, the daughter of on the one hand, Adam Hess, who Mrs. Parnell had manipulated into changing the children's duet into a solo for her own daughter and on the other, Rebecca Ross, who resented that Danielle always seemed to be teasing her husband, watched with a mix of laughter and panic as Katherine, and now Danielle, climbed toward them.

"Here comes trouble," quipped Amanda only half-jokingly to her friend, out of the earshot of young Maria Parnell who had not yet noticed the impending commotion.

"You better let your mom know," responded Miranda as she pointed to the headset that Amanda Silver had on so as to permit her to speak to her mom Nicole who as volunteer choir director was about to start the show.

As she listened through her tiny earpiece to Amanda's request that she try to delay the pageant's opening, Nicole Silver grew increasingly annoyed. Of course that Parnell woman is involved in this, she thought. And what on earth is Katherine Wray trying to prove. Nonetheless, she let Amanda know that she could direct the band to continue its rendition of Jingle Bells for another verse or two before Maria Parnell descended to the stage. Straightening the front of her deep red, long-sleeved, velvet choral gown that went from her neck almost all the way to the floor, Nicole tried to convince herself that all would be well.

"You hold it right there you two," boomed Katherine Wray's voice -- absent it's ordinarily dulcet tone -- as she purposefully strode the catwalk, Jackson in tow, toward where Amanda and Miranda stood with Maria Parnell. "As God is my witness, Jackson is going to be on that platform singing," she raged.

"Please Mrs. Wray," pleaded Miranda Ross, "the show is about to start and we've been told that Maria is doing a solo tonight. I know you and Jackson are disappointed, but there is nothing we can do."

"Is that so," snapped Katherine, "little Ms. Show Off over there bats her eyes at your dim-witted father and my son suffers -- I don't think so."

Just then Danielle arrived on the scene equipped, as always, with a withering put down.

"What your son suffers from is a lack of talent," she said to Katherine disdainfully. "Now why don't you stop making a fool of yourself and half-pint over there and take that K-Mart creation of a dress back to the audience where you belong."

"Who are you calling half-pint . . .," Mrs. Wray raised her voice as Amanda and Miranda shuttled the children out of harm's way.

Circling each other like panthers as they exchanged increasingly vitriolic barbs, the two fetching Davidson mothers unwittingly found themselves on the platform that was intended momentarily to descend stage-ward with an angelic Maria Parnell on board. At the same time, Amanda Silver was being relentlessly bombarded through her headset by her mother's entreaties to get Maria in position so that the pageant could begin in earnest.

"Ladies, please," begged the flustered teen, "the show is about to start . . . we need to lower the platform."

Those last three words -- "lower the platform" -- would begin what will long be remembered in Davidson as the most entertaining Christmas Pageant in the town's long and storied history.

In the rear of St. Mary's -- behind the last row of pews -- Will Parnell and Calum Duncan stood together "manning" the temporary sound and light board that had been set up to ensure that curtains were raised and lowered in a timely manner, that spotlights softly lit and profiled soloists and, among other such things, that the platform on which the show's opening act depended descended from to the stage on cue. The nature of that cue -- as they had rehearsed earlier in the day -- was to come from Amanda Silver's direction to "lower the platform."

As is the case with many a 15 year-old boy, Will Parnell was, at best, listening in with half an ear as Amanda's voice crackled over his headset. Although he couldn't clearly make out how she began her sentence he unmistakably heard the only three words that mattered and -- as if he was Frank Capra directing Jimmy Stewart -- turned to Calum and with emphasis repeated them, "lower the platform."

Hearing that command from her center stage podium, Nicole Silver directed the band to wrap up its rendition of Jingle Bells so that -- finally -- the chorus could collectively hum the introductory bars to "Silent Night" which, as she descended from the rafters above would be performed as a solo by Maria Parnell. Up above the calm, as the main lights in the church dimmed and a spotlight beamed against the rich, red, velvet curtain to illuminate in a large circle the spot to which the tiny soloist would descend, Danielle Parnell and Katherine Wray were continuing there tête-à-tête when to their collective shock they felt that ground beneath their feet move.

"What did you do now you idiot," snapped the emerald-eyed Mrs. Parnell.

"Me," shouted Katherine, "I'm not doing anything."

"Oh my God no," cried Amanda, "Calum must be lowering the platform."

"Mommy," cried Jackson Wray as he grabbed onto the tie that held his mother's wrap around dress together the effect of which was to cause the fashionable frock to begin to unravel.

"Jackson . . . no honey . . . let go of mommy's dress," cried Katherine Wray as she realized the potential consequences of her son's reaction to her departure.

"Looks like someone is about to be unwrapped," scoffed Danielle smugly as she took a step back from Mrs. Wray to watch the mortified mother attempt to keep covered.

But as she arrogantly mocked the unraveling Katherine Wray, Mrs. Parnell's step toward the edge of the now slowly descending platform had, unbeknownst to her, permitted the fabled lance of the large marble statue of St. George -- that had been hidden from sight by the curtain on the makeshift stage -- to come between the flared skirt of her fashionable Balenciaga dress and it imperious wearer. To what would soon be the joy of countless Davidson Christians, Diocletian's victim was about to slay his second dragon -- or at least his first dragon lady.

"What the . . ." the shocked diva exclaimed upon realizing her impending fate.

And then, realizing what was about to transpire, Danielle screamed, "oh no, my dress . . . stop this thing!"

But her words came too late.

Expecting to see young Maria Parnell's 10 year-old, sandal covered feet enter the awaiting spotlight, Nicole Silver was at first shocked -- and then delighted -- when instead she saw not one but two pairs of very high heeled shoes come into view. Her shock came from Maria Parnell having gone missing while her delight stemmed from the impending distress of both Maria's arrogant mother and the unbelievably fit Katherine Wray. Although the latter was always too polite to speak of unkindly -- at least publicly -- Mrs. Silver resented all the attention that the sexy southerner received from Davidson's men especially to the extent it took any focus from her.

Not one to be thrown off by the unexpected -- especially when the revised expectation was so rich -- Nicole quickly redirected the chorus from Silent Night to a much more upbeat -- and for the men inside the Basilica a soon to be anthem -- of Joy to the World.

In the meantime -- and now in full panic mode -- the two about-to -be-distressed damsels began shouting orders to Amanda Silver and Miranda Ross thinking incorrectly that the two teens were in control of the slowly descending platform.

"Turn this thing around you morons," ordered the ever condescending Danielle Parnell, "do you have any idea who I am!?!"

"Stop it this instant girls," chided Mrs. Wray, for the first time all night siding with her nemesis, "you two should be ashamed of yourselves behaving this way!"

Although neither Miranda nor Amanda directly controlled the fate of the two insufferable women below them, the abuse those divas were now hurling their way made the decision of whether to direct Calum Duncan to reverse the two MILFs impending humiliation quite simple -- forget about it. What's more, having both witnessed and been subjected to Danielle Parnell's eye rolls, put downs and other snubs and having men and boys divert their attention from them in favor of the perky Katherine Wray -- who seemed to wear only the tightest of yoga pants as her standard outfit -- Amanda and Miranda decided to give fate a hand.

Amanda Silver was the first to act as she gently approached the confused Jackson Wray who still was holding tight to the tie that held his mother's wrap around dress together.

"Let me take that sweetheart," Amanda said gently, "we wouldn't want you to embarrass your mom now would we."

And then, in a whisper that only Miranda could here, the mischievous Ms. Silver joked, "I'd like to care of that task myself."

Miranda meanwhile, noticing that the lance on the immobile St. George statue had already caused -- at this point still out of the crowd's line of site -- the ceaselessly smug Danielle Marie Parnell's fancy dress to separate from her admittedly fantastic body, quickly radioed the somewhat confused Calum Duncan who remained at the controls of the moving platform.

"Calum," she said excitedly, "it's time to put on a show; speed the drop up a bit but make sure to stop the platform so that its riders are squarely within the heart of the spotlight."

What happened next was for the men, boys and women of Davidson alike, something of a Christmas miracle. As Amanda Silver gave a hearty pull, the immovable statue of St. George held fast and Callum Duncan sped up their descent -- all to the might peels of Joy to the World, an unheard chorus of rendered fabric and their muffled screams of terror -- Danielle Marie Parnell and Katherine Elizabeth Wray made their Christmas Pageant debut.

The former -- whose normally arrogant visage had been replaced by a daffy blank stare -- stood before literally hundreds of her neighbors and colleagues wearing only her 5" off-white patent leather Louboutin heels, soft hued ivory thigh high stockings, a barely there bright white lacy thong and a matching push-up bra. What made the scene even more delicious was that her very fancy lynx fur shrug remained affixed in place over her spectacularly sculpted shoulders.

The latter -- having been dispossessed of her red wrap dress by the now guffawing Amanda Silver, the result of which caused the sexy Mrs. Wray to spin in place so that the audience was now looking at her exquisitely exercised behind -- was left in only her towering black heels and very tiny, sexy, black thong. Her stunned face reddened to match her missing dress as she rued her decision earlier in the evening to forego wearing a bra.

Although the chorus below them had not yet witnessed their arrival, the audience went wild with laughter and applause at the sight of the two distressed divas.

"Serves that little show off right," yelled out Rachel Miras as she took in the humiliation of Danielle -- a woman who had demeaned her on so many occasions in the past.

"Poor Katherine," shrieked Emily Duncan imagining what it would be like to be caught nearly naked in front of the entire community.

"Maybe she'll give those yoga pants a rest now," remarked Rebecca Ross snidely, like Nicole Silver always jealous of the male heads that Mrs. Wray turned but never free before to voice them.

While the women reveled in the tables being turned on Danielle and Katherine the men and boys drank in the fantasy before them -- except for poor Will Parnell.

"Oh my God, my mom . . . in her panties . . . and bra . . . and . . . Calum, you have to raise the platform," cried the confused teen at once embarrassed for his mom yet strangely aroused by her humiliation.

"Fat chance loser," snapped Calum causing the other boy to lunge toward him and the controls.

"This is completely your fault," screamed the panicking Mrs. Parnell at her next to naked neighbor while pulling her lynx fur together with one hand and alternatively covering her ass and sex with the other.

"My fault," shrieked the cowed Katherine Wray, "these people can see my tits!"

The consequence of the mortified mothers' squabble coupled with Will and Calum fighting for control of the lever that lowered and raised the platform on which the two women were now displayed, led to what would be the evening's grand finale.

Thrown off balance by the pitching platform and the height of their towering heels, and as the entirety of Davidson's Christian community celebrated their joint comeuppance, Danielle Parnell and Katherine Wray in the same instant tumbled from their perch toward the choir some ten feet below. By the grace of God however, who many would determine this night was most certainly and completely a man, the fall of the women was broken when each of them grabbed onto a red velvet sleeve of Nicole Silver's choral robe causing in one loud and violent tear the dignified garment to be torn from its wearer.

Although any ordinary woman would have been left shaken but dressed, Nicole Silver had earlier that evening, in a secret dare with her own inner sexpot, decided to wear beneath her otherwise all covering robes only a very sexy, very indecent, very translucent, red, lace thong and bustier combination and a pair of likewise indecently high pair of patent leather red fuck-me heels.

As the laughter of the crowd increased at the shell-shocked threesome of former uber-MILFs in front of them -- bedecked separately in the red, white and black of Santa's famous suit -- it was clear that some packages were best unwrapped before Christmas.

No need to apologize for anything, another great story with 3 strippings, what more could you ask for. You and Obo certainly make things entertaining, anyone who has tried to write one of these stories knows how difficult and time consuming it is. Thanks to both of you.

Just keeping this thread active. We eagerly await the next installment!

Getting antsy
 

The buildup for a possible dustup with Palin is huge I can't wait for it!!!!

Palin in Comparison -- Part 1
 

Each year for almost two decades the Conservative Political Action Conference, or CPAC as it's more commonly known, has hosted an annual opportunity for conservative activists and elected officials across the United States to share their views with one another and the world. Its speakers have included such notable political figures as Ronald Reagan along with such anti-establishment conservatives as Rand Paul. This year, however, the key note address at the conference -- to be held in Washington, D.C. -- was to be delivered by none other than Sarah Palin, the former Governor of Alaska.

Although Ms. Palin was scheduled to deliver her speech at CPAC on a Wednesday, the self-proclaimed hockey mom planned to arrive in the nation's capital a few days early to, among other things, take part as an invited guest panelist at Gonzaga High School's annual "Political Awareness Day."

The tony private all-boys Catholic school was able to secure the high profile appearance due to one of its trustees, Dr. Stuart Kerr, a senior political operative at the Republican National Committee during Ms. Palin's unsuccessful run at the bottom of the 2008 Republican presidential ticket, having remained close to the one time governor. In fact, Dr. Kerr's wife Ellie and Ms. Palin were quite close and when the former -- a rather supercilious although indisputably beautiful 55 year old brunette who could pass for 35 -- asked whether her more famous friend would mind "gracing" the school with her intellect -- such as it were -- and beauty -- uncontested -- the latter was more than happy to oblige.

Knowing that her friend and ally Ellie was scheduled to moderate the panel and that its only other participant would be a student's mother -- some liberal district attorney from a local Maryland suburb named Emily Duncan -- convinced the former Northern Lights pol that the Gonzaga event would be a great forum from which to broadcast her "message," trot out some themes for the following day's CPAC conference and get some beloved press attention without anyone else stealing her limelight. What's more, the self-absorbed ex-Governor saw it as a chance to make some frumpy, two-bit, liberal lawyer appear ridiculous, just as the lefty press had so often done to her. She truly loved that idea most of all.

* * *

"Guess what mom," enthused Will Parnell as he and two of his Gonzaga crew teammates hopped into the back seat of his mother's 2016 Range Rover Sport.

But, before he could finish his sentence his imperious if not breathtakingly beautiful mother importuned, "take off those soaking wet shoes -- all of you. I don't need you sullying my brand new car."

"And sit on the towels I put out for you," she continued, glaring through the rear view mirror at her son's friend Calum Duncan.
"Were you raised in a barn Mr. Duncan?"

"No ma'am," the chided teen replied, embarrassed by being scolded and infuriated that Will's bossy MILF of a mom always seemed to take pleasure in humiliating him.

"I'd expect more from a Gonzaga man," continued the arrogant Mrs. Parnell, "but knowing your mother I guess I shouldn't be surprised."

As the cowed but enraged Calum looked down at his feet in a mix of shame and anger, and as Will Parnell blanched knowing that his mother's snobby treatment of his friends always came back somehow to bite him, the exquisite Danielle Parnell - although outwardly evidencing a most stern visage - smiled broadly on the inside. The gorgeous mother of three loved the rush that came with humiliating boys and men.

With a body better than most women half her age -- and a face that was a combination of the best that Kerri Russel and Miranda Kerr had to offer -- the 5' 2", emerald-eyed, 44 year-old alpha lawyer turned the head of any male fortunate enough to set eyes on her. More deliciously in her mind, her magnificence also drew the anger and envy of most women - particularly insofar as, in her presence, it rendered them invisible to the opposite sex. In fact, the suburban sexpot enjoyed nothing more - when "catching" some man or boy fixating on her splendor -- than to loudly chide him in front of his wife, girlfriend or mother and in so doing humiliating then both.

Although her present demeaning of Calum Duncan - a ne'er do well in her view in any event - didn't overtly involve chastising him for ogling her (a fixation that the little deviant along with most of her son's other Cretans-for-friends had lately developed -- and which she secretly loved), it still provided Mrs. Parnell the double benefit of embarrassing the little creep while letting him know that his cow of a mother was no better than he and, more importantly to Danielle's ego, nothing compared to her.

"Mom, I said guess what," Will Parnell again pleaded trying at once to change the subject and also convey his big news.

"What is it Will," his mother responded curtly, torn from her revelry of self-absorption.

"Sarah Palin is going to speak at 'Political Awareness Day' next week," Will blurted, excited as much by the political prospect of it as by the chance to see the attractive Palin in person. No sooner had the news of the pretty politician's visit spread throughout Gonzaga's hallways than had its students begun Googling every possible permutation of "Sarah Palin sexy, Sarah Palin hot, Sarah Palin naked . . ."

"Now she's a total MILF," Danielle heard Callum whisper to Malcolm Biggs the second of Will's friends who had gotten into the car earlier.

"True dat'," Malcom replied, fist bumping his compatriot.

While ordinarily Danielle would have castigated the two high schoolers for degrading women, in this case -- notwithstanding her also being stunned that in her presence these two little perverts had referred to some washed up, 50 year old politician as a MILF -- her real ire was directed at the news that her son had just shared.

"I'm sure that's not true Will," his mother imperiously interjected, "as you well know mommy is the featured speaker for 'Political Awareness Day."

Hating that his mother referred to herself as "mommy" in front of his friends, but knowing that he was powerless to protest, Will responded, "that's what I thought too mom but the agenda was passed out to us students today and it says the program will be discussion between Sarah Palin and . . . Calum's mom . . . who's a lawyer just like you. Some lady named Mrs. Kerr -- the wife of one of the trustees -- is going to moderate."

Shocked by what she was hearing, and while slowing her car to drop off Calum and Malcolm at Calum's house, Danielle Marie Parnell testily huffed, "well we'll just see about that now won't we. It just so happens that I'm headed to a Mothers' Guild Meeting tonight after I drop you at home. All the trustees, including that old man Kerr, will also be there and you can bet I'm going to give him a piece of my mind."
Will had heard that tone from his mother before -- she was on the warpath.

"And just so we're clear," the comely counselor simmered on, staring snidely at Calum who she could tell by the smirk on his face was relishing his own mother's effective promotion over her, "while Calum's mom may also be a lawyer, she is nothing like me. I have no idea where she may end up on this panel but I do have every confidence that come Political Awareness Day I'll be front and center on that stage!"

Truer words had never been spoken.

* * *

The assemblage of privileged men -- some with wives in tow -- gathered as guests in the modern luxury that was the Gonzaga College High School cafeteria represented a veritable pantheon of Washington, D.C. luminaries. From members of Congress to defense company CEOs -- from foreign ambassadors to real estate magnates -- almost all of the twelve or so gentlemen who were members of the Board of Trustees for the esteemed private high school had either attended the institution themselves or sired a current or past attendee.

On this night, however, the wealthy and powerful male scions of the capitol's metropolitan area were vastly outnumbered by members of the group hosting the very meeting that had brought them there -- namely the Gonzaga High School Mothers' Guild. Once each school year the guild invited the trustees to a meeting to hear from them on the state of the school.

A brief cocktail hour usually preceded the board's presentation, a standard run through of issues such as proposed capital projects, scholarship ideas and fundraising goals, which was in turn generally followed by some Q&A with the assembled mothers. But as the cafeteria doors swung open during cocktails to herald the purposeful entrance of Danielle Marie Parnell, the guild's imperious vice president, the assembled mothers - whom to a woman resented the manner in which the comely counselor used her position and "charms" to lord over them in front of their husbands and sons - knew exactly who would be dominating the Q&A. At the same time, upon spying the sexy suburbanite, the trustees' minds, and nether regions, turned immediately from said Q&A to T&A.

For her part, Danielle came dressed, as always, to impress. A pair of Lanvin skin tight black leggings cupped her incredibly well exercised ass - that appeared as if carved from marble -- like a glove and extended downward from there over her feminine, yet muscled calves. On her feet, giving even more purpose to her exquisite derriere, were a 5.5" pair of Prada baroque suede platform heels. A gold chain belt hung loosely around her trim waist immediately above which ended a Fendi bright orange bolero jacket. That in turn, open in front, covered a skin tight white knit top -- from Armani -- that left no doubt as to the pertness of her baseball side breasts nor the fitness of her toned stomach. Otherwise bedecked in opulent jewelry, the self-satisfied beauty had blown out her glorious mane and made up her face in neutral toned hues. Soft liner surrounded her emerald eyes and a burnt violet shade covered her perfectly formed lips.

Veritably strutting into the meeting so as to make it clear to all that the Queen Bee had arrived, Mrs. Parnell approached a small group of other Gonzaga mothers that included Katherine Wray, a very fit and lithe Southern Belle who was also known to turn more than a few heads, Rachel Miras, a rather small, plain woman who although her school district's PTA President was -- in Danielle's estimation -- nothing more than a hobbit, Rebecca Ross, a substitute English teacher at Gonzaga and the wife of one of the Trustees and, staring at her feet because she suspected what was about to transpire, Calum's mother Emily Duncan.

Like Mrs. Parnell, Mrs. Emily Duncan happened to be a lawyer. Unlike Danielle, however, who was the managing partner of the Washington, D.C. based international legal leviathan known as SmythKnight, Mrs. Duncan was a district attorney in the affluent village of Davidson, Maryland, home to the Duncan family as well as to the Parnells. To Mrs. Duncan's dismay that fact permitted Mrs. Danielle Parnell to serve as a part-time judge in the Davidson municipal court system. Discharging that service in turn provided the haughty D.C. "legal eagle" a perch from which to mock and demean the female lawyers who appeared before her - particularly the haggard D.A. Mrs. Duncan - while at the same teasing mercilessly "Her Honor's" court room's male population particularly its volunteer bailiff -- a Gonzaga trustee and Rebecca Ross' husband -- one Adam Hess.

Seeing Danielle walking over, the ceaselessly friendly Katherine Wray -- who some of the other mothers believed had more than a slight crush on the approaching diva -- excitedly uttered, "why hey Danielle, how are you? Isn't it exciting that the boys will get to see Sarah Palin on Tuesday?"

"And better yet," the fit Tennessean continued gesturing with a big grin at Mrs. Duncan, "Emily will be right there on stage with her."

Putting on her best fake smile, that hid only slightly her complete disdain for Mrs. Wray's eager beaver banter -- and for these women generally -- Danielle responded, "well I'm just fine thank you Katherine, which is less than I can say for Emily over here."

Staring daggers at Mrs. Duncan through her forced smile, the imperious Mrs. Parnell continued, "what I mean to say Emily, is that you must feel so very pleased and important having been chosen to share the stage with Governor . . . Moose Hunter. I must say, it's quite a step up from your day-to-day work. I just hope that you're better prepared for this than you are when you appear in my court room. You wouldn't want to disgrace all of Davidson now, would you?"

As the other women stood dumbstruck and the humiliated Emily Duncan searched her mind for how to respond, Danielle -- loving the collective discomfort she had caused -- continued, "oh, and by the way ladies, I was supposed to be the featured speaker for 'Political Awareness Day' before old man Kerr and that meddling wife of his wrangled this broken-down reality TV star of a former governor to preempt what would have been an erudite presentation by someone who is actually politically aware."

Having further insulted – and duly cowed -- the women that she so often privately mocked, the sexy uber-MILF grinning like the Cheshire cat, fired one last parting shot at the women she held in such disdain.

"Although I may not be able to displace Ms. Going Rogue I'm going to see to it that I, not that Ellie Kerr -- with her incessant and pathetic attempts to look younger than her no doubt 60 years -- will be the moderator. So I suggest you be well prepared Ms. Duncan. It's one thing to fail consistently in my courtroom but I'd hate to have you be embarrassed in front of your son and all his friends."

With that, the self-satisfied beauty confidently turned on her very high Prada heels and sashayed off toward where Stuart Kerr and the other trustees were gathered.

"Oh I just can't stand that self-important prima donna," exclaimed Rachel Miras, as ashamed of herself for not interceding on Emily Duncan's as she was embarrassed for Mrs. Duncan who -- like all of the women present -- had again suffered the withering wrath of Danielle Parnell.

"I tell myself just to let it go . . . I really do," began a crestfallen Emily Duncan, "the way she always manages to throw me off my game in court with her snide tone, eye rolls, comments about my clothes, or my weight or my 'obvious lack of attention to detail'."

And then, with her ire clearly on the rise, Calum's mom continued, "but once, just once, I'd like to see the tables turned on that little tease. To have her be the deer in the headlights, the one who is embarrassed in front of a crowd."

"You're preaching to the choir Emily," Rebecca Ross chimed in, "the way that little showoff is always strutting around in her tight designer clothes shaking her aerobicised ass in the faces of our husbands and sons while turning up her perfect little nose at all of us. I'd love to see her taken down a peg or two."

"Well then you better get planning," laughed Katherine Wray, "because by the look of rage on Ellie Kerr's face over there and the way Ms. Fancy Pants is fawning over your husband Rebecca, it looks like your better half just got her the job of moderator."

Before Rebecca Ross could even respond, the imperious Mrs. Parnell, who had with a soft parting touch to the forearm of the handsome Adam Hess -- after whom the diva of Davidson had lusted privately on more than one occasion – returned to the gathered group of women, and quipped, "looks like I will indeed be moderating your little discussion with the Governor on Tuesday Ms. Duncan. Study hard Emily . . . and remember . . . Calum and all his little friends will be watching . . ."

And then, as she sauntered confidently past the gathered gaggle of Gonzaga moms, sotto voce in a voice she was sure was out of anyone's earshot, Danielle continued to herself, " . . . watching me humiliate you right in front of them."

What the preening uber-MILF did not realize was that Calum Duncan – who had volunteered as a server at the Mothers' Guild meeting -- had from his vantage point behind a column in the cafeteria overhead Will's arrogant mom publicly chide his own as well as, despite the snobby MILF's attempted whisper, her plan to humiliate Mrs. Duncan in front of the entire Gonzaga student body.

Calum was at his wit's end. It was one thing for Danielle Parnell to talk down to him but it was quite another for the stuck-up know-it-all to make fun of his mom. He needed to turn the tables on Mrs. Parnell -- publicly and once and for all. The only problem was how.

"Hey Calum," came the disembodied voice of Will Parnell who also had volunteered to help out at the meeting but who had missed both his mother's entrance and departure, "do you want to sleep over tomorrow night. A bunch of the guys from the team will be there and my mom can drive us in Tuesday morning for Political Awareness Day."

"That sounds great, buddy," Calum answered excitedly.

To Will's ears that excitement came as a relief. Either Calum had forgotten, or didn't care, how Will's mom had treated him in the car earlier. To Calum, the excitement was the result of a proverbial light bulb going off over his adolescent head. There had to be something in the Parnell household that could be a solution to his problem. In his wildest, and wettest, dreams he couldn’t have envisioned at that moment exactly how right he was.

Very glad you've returned. This looks to be worth the wait!

Palin in Comparison -- Part 2
 

Maneuvering a 2015 Mercedes AMG GT convertible -- just one of the Parnell family's new cars -- up her winding driveway at the end up what was already a long work day, Danielle Parnell wondered why she ever agreed to permit her son Will to have a sleepover on a school night. That feeling was amplified when she realized Will and his friends had blocked access to the garage forcing her to leave her car parked outside. Of course, not one of them was in sight.

"Alia," Danielle shouted as she stepped from the expensive sports car and spied the Parnell family nanny peeking out the front door, "please get over here and give me a hand."

As the young woman approached and offered her standard greeting of "welcome home Mrs. P," her employer gave voice to her most recent thought, "I can't believe I said yes to this sleepover idea; where are the little savages?"

"They're down on the sports court shooting hoops and otherwise running amok," replied the perennially positive Alia, "boys will be boys I guess."

"Fine," replied Danielle snappily, "just make sure that they're either outside or down in the basement. And after you bring my briefcase inside pour me a glass of wine. I'm going to take a bath and given the day I've had a nice Pinot Noir will be the perfect accompaniment to it."

"Sure thing boss," came the peppy reply, "the pizza for the boys should be here in an hour or so and between now and then I'll make sure they stay outside -- either in the yard or on the court. It's a good thing you had those lights put in down there. It'll be getting dark soon."

After toting Danielle's bag into the Parnell's colossal home and pouring the "lady of the house" her glass of wine, Alia quickly took a gander out the kitchen window to check on the whereabouts of Will and his friends. As expected, the five seemingly tireless teens -- all either freshman or sophomores from Gonzaga and members of the school's junior varsity crew team -- were engaged in some form of two-on-three ultimate Frisbee or something of that nature.

"At least none of them has escaped," the young nanny said to herself before turning to prepare dinner for Danielle's two young daughters, the 14 year old Anna and 11 year old Maria.

Meanwhile, outside, boys were indeed being boys.

"Nice throw Quentin," joked Malcolm Biggs as Quentin Kayser tossed the Frisbee errantly past its intended target -- namely Malcolm -- and into the woods, "is your arm worn out from fantasizing about Sarah Palin."

"Stuff it loser," came Quentin's retort, "you're probably going jerk yourself blind thinking about her."

As Will headed off to pick up the disc that had at this point sailed far into the trees behind his house, the last of the five boys, Christian Tabash, quietly added, "and it doesn't hurt that Mrs. Parnell is going to be up there on stage with her tomorrow -- Will's mom is hot."

But as Malcolm and Quentin nodded their heads in agreement, Calum Duncan -- still smarting from the treatment of his mother by Danielle the night before -- made his own thoughts known.

"She's nothing but a stuck-up snob," the young Duncan boy interjected, "always making us feel stupid with her big mouth and making sure little Will over there isn't too 'exposed to our bad influence.' I'd love to see her look stupid for once."

"True dat'," said Malcolm remembering all the times that Mrs. Parnell had embarrassed him and his mother, "my mom says she has it coming -- but she's still hot!"

"Cut it out guys, here comes Parnell," Quentin chimed in.

As Will came running to rejoin his friends he gave the Frisbee a mighty toss, sending it past all of them as well as over the home's spacious patio. It finally landed against an outside wall along the far end of the sprawling house.

"Your turn to get this one Calum," Malcolm said just as Alia's voice could be heard shouting out that the pizza had at last arrived.

"Fair enough," said Calum as he headed off to find the errant throw, "you guys go ahead -- I'll find the Frisbee and be right down. And leave me some pizza!"

* * *

Walking from her palatial master bedroom into her cavernous master bath -- the full wine glass Alia had just poured in one hand and the bottle, just in case she wanted seconds, in the other -- Danielle Marie Parnell paused to look at herself in the mirror and, as usual, loved what she saw.

"I'll be right back beautiful," she said to her reflection, "but first I need to get out of these clothes."
Before heading into her spacious master closet -- really more of a large and refined personal dressing room -- Danielle placed the wine bottle on the small glass table that sat next to her tub, started the water running and, to let in the cool yet still temperate autumn air, raised the shade on one of the many large windows along the master bath's outer wall and cracked it open just a bit.

Finally, as she made her way into her enormous closet, she stopped at the touch screen control pad by the door, dimmed the bathroom lights and turned on some music the sound of which made imperceptible to her the clunk of the Frisbee that had just struck - but not broken - the recently opened bathroom window.

* * *

"It's black as night out here," Calum Duncan thought to himself as he furrowed around in search of Will's throw gone wild, "this is useless."

Then, just as he was about to abandon the search and head in for some pizza, Calum noticed a light on about halfway along the side of the Parnell's gigantic home. To his very good fortune the light -- which was streaming out into the fall darkness through a partially open window -- illuminated the exact spot where the Frisbee had landed. But if that was very good fortune, what Calum was about to witness after picking up the Frisbee and peering through that window, was a fortune against which even Bill Gates' would pale.

* * *

After slipping out of her power suit and blouse, and taking off her very expensive jewelry, Danielle Marie Parnell -- with her sky high, black, patent leather Manolo Blahnik BB pumps, black, silk La Perla push-up bra and matching thong still on, slipped into a very short, black, silk robe. The suburban sexpot then headed back into the luxurious, spa-like environs of her now dimly lit master bath.

Re-encountering in a floor length mirror the reflection of not only her face but of her spectacularly sexy, barely covered body, Danielle smiled devilishly.

"I told you I'd be back beautiful," she cooed, reaching down for her glass of wine from which she then took a very long sip before continuing, "you look sexier every time I see you."

* * *

Picking up the Frisbee that had come to rest in the bushes against the side of the Parnell home, Calum thought he heard music -- Prince -- coming through the open window. Secreting himself in the bush right below the fenestram the young man peered over the window sill into what had to be the biggest, most elaborate bathroom he had ever seen. White marble seemed to be everywhere.

The floors, the walls, even the ceiling was tiled in the opulent stone. Along the wall farthest from him was a very long white marble vanity with two carved glass sinks sitting atop the polished surface. Alongside the fancy double vanity -- and set between two frosted glass sconces -- leaned what had to be ten foot tall floor to ceiling mirror beveled to echo the mirror that ran along the vanity top itself. Next to that was a glassed-in shower enclosure that looked big enough for ten people. Finally, right below the window through which he was looking, a good ten feet or more from the aforementioned vanity, sat a massive, black, cast iron tub that rested on four silver lion-claw feet. The entire tub, including the feet, was polished to shiny perfection. Meanwhile, right next to the silver faucet that was filling the black tub with water, a full glass of wine sat on a table.

While there was no denying that the dulcet tones of the recently deceased Prince's voice and the gentle, falling water of the filling tub were pleasant sounds, it was the unmistakable click-clack of high heels on marble that -- as he was about to turn away and head for some pizza -- kept Calum Duncan glued to his hidden perch outside the open window.

But even that melodious staccato, a favorite sound of men and boys everywhere and a signal to Calum to prop his iPhone on the open window sill before hitting the video "Record" button, was overshadowed by the vision that greeted the horny high schooler. Strutting sexily into his field of view -- and that of his camera -- was Will's mom -- the always arrogant Danielle Marie Parnell -- wearing naught but a towering pair of black heels and a very, very short silk robe.

Calum couldn't believe it -- he was transfixed. But that was only the beginning. As she picked up the glass of wine that was sitting next to the tub, Mrs. Parnell started talking to her reflection in the mirror.

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

* * *

As her tub continued slowly to fill, and after draining her first glass of wine and pouring herself another, Danielle 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 taunted an invisible Sarah Palin while placing a highly manicured hand on her hip and throwing back her hair for emphasis, "well think again -- trailer trash."

"And what about you Duncan," Mrs. Parnell mocked -- stunning a gob-smacked Calum who thought for a second he'd been caught before realizing Danielle was imagining his 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."

Then, without missing a beat, Danielle untied the sash holding her robe together and, letting the silk garment fall open to reveal 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!"

Breaking momentarily from her fantasy as she saw the tub was nearly full, Danielle shut the water and took another sip of wine. But, apparently finding the water a bit too hot to climb into, the beautiful barrister again began to address the mirror in front of her.

"You see . . . ladies . . . 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. It’s the truth losers -- they all want to see me and you hags all want to be me."

And as those last words left her lips, and Calum -- admittedly aroused -- tried to keep his camera steady, Danielle Parnell let her tiny silk robe slip off her shoulders and onto the floor revealing her perfect be-thonged ass to Calum's hungry eyes and lens.

Putting both hands on her hips, the ordinarily severe alpha lawyer pushed her spectacular bottom outward and purred again at her reflection, "this is what you want isn't it Mr. Hess -- not that dumpy Rebecca . . . and this is why your grizzled shrew of a wife isn't even on the stage any more isn't Dr. Kerr -- or should I call you Stewie -- you loser. And is 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."

As Will's mom took yet another hit of wine while again admiring her fantastic ass and tits, her otherwise beautiful face sported the same smug look that Calum had seen so many times before.

Then, testing the water one more time as Purple Rain began playing on her fancy sound system, Danielle Marie Parnell began a sexy strip tease to the music's erotic strains. As she ran her hands over her spectacular body, gyrating almost indecently to Prince's masterpiece -- just as he would have envisioned -- the 44 year old stunner first peeled off her bra . . . what great tits . . . then her panties . . . what an incredible ass and well-manicured landing strip . . . until . . . standing only in her heels as the song came to its climactic ending, she stepped from them -- wine glass still in hand -- into the warm embrace of her bath.

Not for a second would the self-absorbed beauty ever imagined that someone would have, could have, caught her entire performance -- from the moment she walked into her bathroom to the second her pert bottom came to rest in the tub -- on film. But Calum Duncan had done just that.

* * *

"Calum," Alia's voice shouted out of the darkness, "forget about finding that silly Frisbee . . . your pizza's getting cold."

Although Alia's call was strong enough to reach her, having drifted off into a complacent alcohol and hormone induced half-slumber, Danielle didn't hear a thing.

Meanwhile, after carefully putting his iPhone into the pocket of his recently zipped up shorts, Calum Duncan headed for the front door of the Parnell house to wash his hands and get some pizza -- he was famished. More importantly, he had just what he needed to turn the tables on Mrs. Parnell.

Nice touch with the Purple Rain.

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!

I know authors thrive on feedback, but commenters thrive on knowing their comments made a difference, so thanks :D

And I look forward to plenty of cattle!

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.

Excellent, looking forward to the next part.

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."

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!

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.

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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.

Great story. I'm flattered that you could use one of my "devices" in your work. Feel free to borrow anytime.

Well done
 

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

Can't wait for your next installment