"If folks could begin to take their seats," came the voice of Adam Hess, "a Gonzaga trustee, former rower himself and the nominal master of ceremonies for the evening."
"And if Mrs. Parnell, Mr. Sarano and this year's seniors will please come to the front of the dais to have their picture taken before we begin - thanks everyone."
Unlike most men, for whom she had neither time nor tolerance, Danielle Marie Parnell had long been taken with the handsome Mr. Hess and never quite understood how he found himself married to Rebecca Ross, who Danielle felt to be completely unworthy of her 6'4" husband. Whatever lust she may have harbored for Adam Hess, however, did not prevent Mrs. Parnell from teasing him like any man or from demeaning him when he on occasion acted, on a
pro bono basis, as the bailiff at the Davidson Municipal Courthouse. In fact, earlier in the day Danielle had imposed upon Mr. Hess the responsibility of assisting Officer Lori Heilkamp in cuffing and shackling Nicole Silver all despite their pathetic protestations - just the memory of it brought a smile to her beautiful face.
As the senior rowers and Jerry Sarano, all in their white Bermuda shorts and purple blazers, gathered around the preening Mrs. Parnell, she couldn't help but sneer at the other women in attendance whose existence seemed to evaporate in the eyes of the men by her side. Her disdain did not go unnoticed.
"Would you just look at her up there," exclaimed Rebecca Ross to Katherine Wray and Emily Duncan, "you'd think we were all here to celebrate
her rather than our sons."
"You know she thinks that," giggled Katherine Wray who could barely peel her eyes off of the arrogant woman who so often demeaned her.
"That's for sure," Emily chimed in, "and you should have seen what she did to Nicole Silver today in court. While the two of them usually deserve one another today I genuinely felt sorry for Nicole."
"Just once I'd like to see her get hers," Rebecca added, "it would serve that little tease right.
In the meantime, Adam Hess was imploring the photographer to finish up.
"Maybe just one more," he directed, "this time with Mrs. Parnell, Mr. Sarano and Will . . to celebrate our soon-to-be Harvard man's last Gonzaga hurrah."
As Jerry, Danielle and Will prepared for the final photo - at least the final planned photo - of the evening, Danielle's gold lamé clutch slipped form her perfectly manicured hand to the floor below.
"I'll get that," came the immediate response from the always chivalrous Sarano, happy to anything that would put him in his tormentor's good graces.
"Maybe you should let Will do it Jerry," scoffed Danielle, "after all, we wouldn't want you to come bursting out of your tight shorts now would we - how
embarrassing would that be."
"Yeah Mr. Jerry . . . try not to have a wardrobe malfunction," added Will Parnell smugly before recovering his mother's fallen purse.
Although internally incensed by the mockery of Will and his diva of a mother, Jerry Sarano outwardly simply stared stupidly into space. Worse yet, Mrs. Parnell's pointed jibe at his potential humiliation manifested itself in the front of the very shorts he was hoping not to split. That reaction was shared of course by the senior rowers present who, although not in the picture, were standing nearby and lusting all the more over the unabashed sexiness of Will's domineering mom. For her part, Danielle loved it all - smiling on the inside at yet another takedown of her former mentor and drinking in the adulation that she was so easily able to solicit from the young, strong men by her side.
"I'd like to see
her have a wardrobe malfunction," Rebecca Ross groused as she, Katherine Wray and Emily Duncan made their way to their dinner table for the evening.
"
Me too," Mrs. Wray chimed in perhaps a bit too enthusiastically.
"It sure would serve that little tease right," echoed Emily Duncan, "especially after what she put poor Nicole through today."
"It's not just
today Em," Mrs. Ross replied, "it's every day, sauntering around in her tight outfits with that smug look on her face and shaking that little ass of hers in front of every man in sight - only to mock them if they ever dare to meet her gaze. And don't get me started about how she teases my husband when she lords over that courtroom."
"If you . . . l
adies . . . could finish up your gossiping and sit down," came the voice of Mrs. Parnell from the dais, "perhaps Mr. Ross would be able to get the evening started."
Caught flat-footed again by the very shrew they were discussing, and left to slink to their table in embarrassment, each of Emily Duncan, Katherine Wray and Rebecca Ross longed for the day when little Miss Perfect would be the one embarrassed for once. That day was nigh.
* * *
"Welcome ladies and gentlemen," Adam Hess began from the rostrum in the middle of the raised dais, "to the annual Gonzaga Crew Team formal where we plan to celebrate our accomplishments this season, wish our departing seniors well and unveil our newest racing shell. As a first order of business I'd like to introduce our two special guests here with me and our senior boys on the dais this evening. From Harvard University, and a former Gonzaga oarsman himself - who is clearly not afraid to repurpose his old high school Bermudas and blazer - Mr. Jerry Sarano."
Feeling all the more like an idiot because Adam Hess and now all in attendance thought he wore his outfit tonight by choice, Jerry Sarano stood up a bit too fast for his own good. Thankfully, whatever tear had begun at the seat of his shorts remained unnoticed - for now.
"Sitting next to Jerry," Adam Hess continued, "is one of the nation's most celebrated lawyers, one our city's most dedicated patrons, the president of our Gonzaga Mothers' Guild, the very proud mom of the soon-to-be Harvard man - her son Will - sitting next to her and our keynote speaker for the evening. Ladies and gentlemen I give you Mrs. Danielle Marie Parnell."
As Rebecca, Katherine, Emily and all of the other women present - including her own daughter Anna - choked on the praise being heaped upon her my Adam Hess, and every man present strained to get a glimpse of her spectacular legs as she uncrossed them to approach the podium, Danielle drank in the applause echoing through the room.
"Why thank you very much, Adam" Mrs. Parnell began purposefully letting her gaze linger on the handsome Mr. Hess just long enough to get his wife's goat, "I'm delighted to be here among these successful, fit and handsome young men . . . not to mention my former partner who despite being some thirty five years out of high school has decided this evening to dress like one of them."
Jerry Sarano blushed as the crowd had a good laugh at his expense - despite himself, he both hated and lusted after Danielle.
"Before I speak briefly to the successful year that our boys have had," Danielle continued, "and give you the unveiling you've all been waiting for - I need to address the indignity that one of our own parents - Mrs. Nicole Yanika Silver - has brought upon our boys, our school and our community."
Despite everyone at the gala - including Nicole's son Jules who was sitting on the dais not far from Danielle - knowing what had transpired, to a person they were shocked by Danielle's raising the issue so publicly.
"Rather than pontificate and patronize," Mrs. Parnell continued pontificating in a patronizing tone, "let me just say that those who feel they're above the law . . . who think they needn't play by the rules . . . who believe that access is a function of money or contacts rather than plain old hard work . . . will always have that facade ripped away and be shown for who they truly are . . . cheaters and cowards. It's just a shame that - in this case - Nicole's cheating has cast a shadow over this otherwise wonderful institution and effectively tainted for some of its students - including my own son Will - the achievement of being accepted by Harvard University."
Satisfied with driving yet another nail into the proverbial coffin of Mrs. Nicole Silver who, unbeknownst to Danielle, had made bail earlier in the day and was now standing in the wings of the very platform from which Danielle mocked her, Danielle turned to the point of her speech.
"So - we're just about to the point in the evening that you've all been waiting for - the big unveiling," Danielle teased the crowd as yet unaware of the true meaning of her words.
"But first, a few brief slides to show just how much money the team has raised this season. Anna - if you would dim the lights please, we can get this show on the road."
* * *
For what would be the final time that evening, Anna Parnell did what her mother asked and dimmed the museum lights so that all that the crowd could see was her imperious mother illuminated by a spot light, the purple curtain behind her and the two large screens flanking each side of the curtain. Projected onto one of the screens was Gonzaga's mascot - a proud eagle - sketched in white on a sea of deep purple. On the other screen, toward which Danielle turned to begin her brief remarks, was a summary of the funds raised that year by the Gonzaga Crew Boosters.
"As you can see from this summary," the magnificent MILF began delighted as always by being in the literal and proverbial spotlight, "we've had another record year of fundraising of which we should all be very proud. As we move to the next slide . . ."
But what popped up next on the screen was not what anyone, especially not Danielle or Jerry Sarano, expected. Instead of a further breakdown of the monies raised by the eager parents and other members of the Gonzaga Booster Club, the crowd saw what appeared to be a large screen-shot of an e-mail.
* * *
To: Jerry Sarano
From: Danielle M. Parnell
Subject: Congratulations
__________________________________________________ __________________________
Dear Jerry,
Congratulations again on your being named to the GC spot at Harvard - what an honor!
I really do miss you. It's just not the same here without you as my partner.
Sincerely,
Danielle
__________________________________________________ ____________________________
* * *
As confused as anyone else there present, Danielle relied on her many years of crisis management to play off the unexpected e-mail with humor.
"Well, I don't know exactly how that made its way into the presentation," she smiled as smoothly as ever, "but, as long as it's there, let's take another moment - as I did here - to congratulate Mr. Sarano on his accomplishment."
As the somewhat flummoxed crowd began to applaud - and as Jerry, now highlighted by Anna in a second spotlight, smiled sheepishly - Danielle took over again.
"Anna - let's move on please," she said with just a hint of annoyance in her voice as she wondered whether her daughter - somehow - may have slipped in that e-mail just to embarrass her.
But when the next slide appeared - a large screen shot of yet another e-mail - it started to become clear that Danielle's embarrassment had only just begun.
* * *
To: Jerry Sarano
From: Danielle M. Parnell
Subject: Dinner (and drinks)
__________________________________________________ __________________________
Hey there (former) partner! LOL!
Rumor has it you're going to be in town this week. I hope that means you'll let me take you to dinner to celebrate that big new job of yours.
I know you love Fiola and I'd be happy to make a reservation there for the two of us.
Maybe you could wear one of your tight Italian suits you know I like so much
Hoping to see you soon.
D
__________________________________________________ ____________________________
* * *
As snickering could be heard from the crowd in the darkness, particularly from the women who Danielle had long looked down upon, and as Danielle swallowed hard at what she read on the screen, Anna Parnell smiled wryly. The actual e-mail from her mother hadn't mentioned anything about Jerry's tight suits. No, her mother would have thought herself too smart - although it turned out she was wrong - to leave any paper or electronic trail behind the elaborate ruse she planned and executed against the unwitting Mr. Jerry. That said, Mrs. Parnell desperately needed a taste of her own medicine and - the truth was - Danielle had used all of her feminine charms to ensnare and blackmail her former mentor all to puff up her own ego and to get Anna's arrogant brother into Harvard.
"I . . . I don't know exactly what's going on here," Danielle protested nervously shooting a withering glance at the back of the room where she knew the AV equipment - and her daughter -- were located, "Jerry . . . I mean . . . Mr. Sarano . . . and I . . . well . . . we did have that dinner . . . as old friends sometimes do . . . and I did invite him but . . ."
But before she could say another thing - the speakers astride the dais on which she stood crackled to life with what sounded like her own voice couched in background of clinking glasses, scraping plates, soft music and the other telltale sounds of a high end dining establishment during peak hours.
Although it took no small amount of doing, Anna Parnell had discovered on her mother's computer, saved to the cloud, an inadvertent recording made by Danielle on her phone during the Fiola dinner with Jerry. Anna did not play the entirety of the conversation but included without fail the most incriminating snippets . . .
"No - let me pour
you some more wine . . ." purred Danielle's disembodied voice into the darkness of the museum, "with a body like that you can certainly take the calories . . ."
"You know all the girls at the office still lust after you don't you . . ," the voice teased, "wanting to know what
you have on under your fancy suits . . . just like you want to know what
I've got on under mine. . ."
"I can only imagine what you look like
out of uniform," the sultry seductress continued her assault, "maybe you could send me a picture or two . . . you know . . . tonight before you go to sleep . . . it would certainly sweeten my dreams."
As the uncomfortable laughter that had accompanied the second e-mail began to grow to a crescendo - all to the absolute delight of the women present who were over the moon at seeing the continually confident Mrs. Parnell begin to get a little hot under her halter-top's sequined collar, Danielle attempted - as she had done so many times before - to reassert control of the situation.
"What is the
meaning of this," she demanded to know with as much authority as possible but to no avail at all.
And then, as the laughter continued unabated, she spun around on her towering high heels to face the mortified Jerry Sarano who was still seated next to her on stage.
"
You," she shouted at him giving up the ghost of trying to deny that the voice just heard over the loudspeaker was hers, "you
recorded our dinner conversation didn't you . . you
freak."
As Jerry proceeded to leap from his chair in order forcefully to deny Mrs. Parnell's charge - for, of course, he hadn't in fact recorded their conversation - the evening's histrionics only became more exaggerated. Forgetting as he bolted upright that his tight shorts had already suffered a tear in the back, Jerry Sarano was as unprepared for the loud rip that accompanied his rise as he was for the resulting fall that his ruined pants made quickly to his feet. Worse yet, in an effort to retrieve the very pictures that Danielle's voice had requested he take - a request which all present had now just heard again - Jerry had agreed to wear under his shorts the very black jockstrap he had on in those pictures.
And so it was for a moment that silence again enveloped the crowd as Jerry stood - both in person and in the e-mailed image that Anna Parnell had now caused to appear on the big screen in front of him - wearing only a naughty black jockstrap to cover his clearly raging manhood.
* * *
To: Danielle M. Parnell
From: Jerry Sarano
Subject: Your package has arrived!
__________________________________________________ ____________________________
Sweet dreams D!
The Italian Stallion
.jpeg attached
__________________________________________________ ____________________________
* * *
Before the stunned live crowd was even able to erupt in laughter the voice of Danielle Marie Parnell, coming not from the live woman on stage but again being broadcast over the museum's loudspeakers, chimed in again.
"I always knew you were
pathetic Jerry but I never thought you'd sink to this level of perversion . . . how dare you," it began. "I really don't see any alternative but to go to the Harvard Board of Governors with this . . . I'm sorry but you need help."
As the live Jerry Sarano remained gob-smacked on stage with his knees now together and his hands attempting to cover the growing problem between his legs, his disembodied voice came over the same speakers in response
"I don't know what came over me Danielle," the exasperated Sarano pleaded, "I'm so . . . "
Not surprisingly to anyone, the recorded voice of Danielle - as usual - interrupted.
"Shut up you washed-up loser," sniped Mrs. Parnell with complete disdain,"I don't want to hear it . You've always been weak and sickened me but this time at least I'll be able to use it. My son Will has applied to Harvard and unless you want to see your little strip show sent out to everyone you know he is going to get in - do you hear me?"
A collective gasp came over the live crowd.
"Of course Danielle," Jerry's voice responded both terrified and relieved, "consider it done."
* * *
And that's when the floodgates of laughter most righteously opened with women, men, girls and boys alike guffawing at Danielle Marie Parnell being caught with her perfectly manicured hand in the cookie jar of her own private admissions scandal.
As Danielle momentarily froze, unsure on this occasion of exactly what to do next, the likes of Emily Duncan and Rebecca Ross were practically doubling over with laughter.
"Look at her up there," Rebecca almost shouted with glee, "little Miss I Have All the Answers has no idea what to do. She is mortified."
Katherine Wray in the meantime couldn't take her eyer off the humiliated Jerry Sarano who - unable to make his way off the dais - was struggling to cover himself with what was left of his ruined shorts.
"Mom," came the voice of Will Parnell, cracking so he sounded more like a prepubescent boy than a man of nearly 6"4" tall, "is this
true . . . did you blackmail Mr. Jerry so that I could get into Harvard?"
Before Danielle - who now appeared to be in more than a little distress - could find the words to answer her son's query, a number of delicious subplots began to unfold.
"Looks like it's time to give up that captain's blazer," came the voice of Calum Duncan, the son of Emily Duncan and a senior teammate of Will's on the crew team who resented the arrogance of both the eldest Parnell child and his imperious mother.
"Yeah Parnell," chimed in Christian Tabash, another one of the seniors, "lose the blazer son . . . your days as our captain end now."
"Mom . . .," Will pleaded as he slowly removed his purple blazer in humiliation, "mommy . . . is it true?"
"Mommy," came a cry from one of the team's younger boys in the crowd, 'what a a wuss."
"Can you get
me into Harvard mommy," came another.
Anna Parnell couldn't believe her luck. Her unstoppably loquacious mother was tongue-tied and her jerk of a brother was melting down. Time to turn up the heat.
After narrowing the two spot lights that now captured her mother and the still pantless Jerry Sarano, Anna caused another to shine on her clearly confused brother Will. Each looked spectacularly like a deer in the proverbial headlights. Next, she caused the e-mail that contained the salacious photo of Mr. Sarano to be replaced by a hastily typed slide she had just made that contained one of her arrogant mother's quotes from earlier in the evening.
* * *
" . . . let me just say that those who feel they're above the law . . . who think they needn't play by the rules . . . who believe that access is a function of money or contacts rather than plain old hard work . . . will always have that facade ripped away and be shown for who they truly are . . . cheaters and cowards."
* * *
The nearly giddy crowd - most of whom had no idea that the woman controlling the "entertainment" for the evening was Danielle Parnell's daughter - laughed even harder at the obvious discomfort the most recent slide was causing Danielle. Danielle in the meantime, her normal cool evaporating by the second, took verbal aim at person she now knew must be responsible for her current situation.
"Anna Parnell," she boomed, "you stop this right now young lady or so God as my witness you will be grounded for life."
Smiling to herself at the extreme embarrassment befalling her usually sanctimonious mother and cocksure brother, Anna answered Danielle's command by again playing her own voice back to her - this time from earlier in the night.
"So -," came the recorded voice of Danielle Parnell from the loudspeakers which Anna had turned up so as to get everyone's attention, "we're just about to the point in the evening that you've all been waiting for - the big unveiling."
In all the recent commotion, Emily Duncan had made her way to the side of the dais to where Mrs. Nicole Silver was having the best moment of an otherwise horrible day.
"I can't say I condone what you did Nicole," Emily began, "because I don't. But I don't approve of how she treated you in court today . . . it was outrageous and it was wrong. And while my apology may be somewhat cold comfort to you, I think I can offer you something else that will provide at least a bit of genuine solace."
Although Anna had no idea what Mrs. Duncan and Mrs. Silver were discussing, she could tell from the backstage camera to which she had access that the two women were in the process surreptitiously of slipping the weighted hooks of the large purple curtain that was to be lifted to unveil the team's new boat into the long chiffon train of her mother's elegant gown. Her mother hadn't played by the rules, she thought to herself - it was time to rip away her facade to show her for who she truly was.
Cueing up the music from
2001: A Space Odyssey, Anna Parnell began to expand the narrow spotlights she had focused individually on her mother, brother and Mr. Jerry so that, within a few seconds, a much bigger spotlight captured the three of them, standing side by side mortified, and directly in front of the big purple curtain.