[tomb125]

Part 2c. Primrose’s Ruinous Recital, Continued.


Prim had Beginner's Luck, but Regina was Undone.


*All characters are over 18 years old*

*I have taken generous liberties with this skit; I hope you enjoy it*

(1) "Beginner's Luck" | Little Rascals Shorts | FULL EPISODE – YouTube


Part 2c. Primrose’s Ruinous Recital, Continued


During this delightful intermission, Miles brought out nothing less than a full Jeroboam of Dom Perignon Brut, vintage 1935, followed by Genevieve with a cart of glasses, bottles, and ice for everyone’s refreshment. They filled the adults’ flutes with the select champagne and the students’ glasses with soda pop while the audience beamed in appreciation to be feted in this fashion. Regina was certainly pulling out all the stops for this recital. Shortly, Primrose appeared center stage, dressed now in a very short and flouncy, pink babydoll number. She waited before her audience, and graciously managed an awkward moment. Then Regina appeared from behind the room-dividing screen, flushed and slightly out of breath. She had shucked off her suit jacket, having sent it with Genevieve for a hasty repair. She now stood before everyone in an exquisite form-fitting white linen blouse, buttoned down the front with tiny pearl buttons. She announced, “I hope you all are enjoying the show! Now, if everyone is ready? Primrose will now perform another classic from the period, 'Sing, Baby, Sing', made famous by the Twentieth Century Fox star, Alice Faye. While everyone clapped, Regina cued up a record player' and clutched a tambourine to provide a bit more accompaniment, and to provide her an excuse to be up front and on stage. Convinced she was still very much composed and in-charge, Regina snapped, “Primrose, take it away!”


Primrose jumped immediately into her next number, singing and tap dancing like a super trouper, but her mother endeavored to upstage her, dancing and singing along! As Regina resonated the tambourine on her plump flank, the spectators could discern her lovely blouse was now rather damp, due to both the humidity of the hothouse filled with flowering succulents, and the fact Regina was now in front of her superiors, equals, and a bunch of unruly kids, tapping a tambourine against her full hips, without her jacket. She admonished herself that she certainly did not think this completely through. Regina, lacking her jacket, looked anything but regal right now. She rather resembled more of a cross between an extra from an episode of BBC’s 'Top of The Pops' (I am really aging myself) and a burlesque performer, wriggling out of her costume from something like HBO’s 'Here It Is, Burlesque!' Worst of all, her beautiful and very expensive new lingerie, purchased a month ago, right after she was fitted for her new dress suit, did NOT at all fit properly now. She had convinced herself at the time, she would lose ten pounds before today and, well… she obviously had not. She likely had heaped on five more! Neither her delicate, demi-brassiere, nor the matching lilac hipster rhumba panties, were today up to the task of securing her expansive wobbly bits, currently wildly working themselves free of her periwinkle foundations. Regina, while not quite a desperate housewife, was however flummoxed as she feared she was becoming a sort of governess without a lifeline as she jiggled and wobbled before a host of people, some dignitaries she worked for, some she supervised, and a bunch of Prim’s pals obviously ogling her. She felt with trepidation her most full breasts oscillate with the music, improperly supported by her flimsy brassiere, now embarrassing visible due to being a violet color, and her white shirt damp enough to be semitransparent. She also felt with alarm, her matching panties shift southward. The unmentionables were far too snug and of a now-regrettable hip-hugger design that prevented her from never quite being able to tug them over her big ass, yet they felt SOOO sexy when she foolishly purchased them on a whim. Now, these step-ins were nearly half-off her full and plump butt cheeks, bunching and bisecting the moistened globes of her luscious bottom while she anxiously tapped the tambourine on her tushy in tempo to the vaudevillian tune from the Victrola, as sweat streamed along her lush physique. Primrose however, was cool as a cucumber, and tapped about to the delight of the audience, oblivious as to the various wardrobe malfunctions her mother was currently experiencing.


Al, choosing to strike while his iron was hot, now pulled a hand-held Acme electro magnet he got from his buddy Moses from his pants pocket, and focused it on the over-ripe dancing queen jiggling before him. He tried first to unfasten Regina’s demi-bra, beginning at the back closure. The underwired underpinning only vibrated, but an audible humming he heard as Regina’s nipples hardened while she stared down around her chest with a bewildered look on her face. Then he focused the magnet where he thought the metal rings might be on her brassiere straps. Careful listeners heard a muted ‘snapping’ sound as Regina stood bolt upright, dropping the tambourine. Her eyes were as wide as dinner plates, now with one breast hanging noticeably lower than the other. Then there was another ‘pop’ and her other breast settled as well. She folded her arms across her chest and quickly looked for an escape. The agog onlookers noticed Regina’s massive breasts seemed to bounce quite a bit more, and no one could see any brassiere lines on her shoulders anymore. Her face was flushed and she had trouble singing as Al worked to increase the power on Moses’ magnetic wand, advancing the power dial to the ‘ludicrous’ setting. He then again aimed the device at the back closure of Regina’s brassiere as Mimic squeaked, “AUK, Somethings are not as well supported as they once were…AWK!... Lower hanging fruits!” A weird look filled Regina’s eyes, unsure what was happening inside her shirt as her bra was being deconstructed by this deviant. She steeled herself, determined to not look foolish, and danced on.


Unfortunately, with all the shuffling and boob settling, a couple of her shirt buttons had popped open. But now without her bra, Regina’s melons hung too low for Al to see nipples. The shirt pulled tight against her loose tits and creased around the next two buttons as he wondered if those pearly fasteners contained a ferrous metal, as he redirected his magnet. No sooner had he leveled the wand at her chest, two more buttons popped off. Regina danced away, as they fell to the floor, completely oblivious. “Wow,” Al gasped. He was so close to glimpsing some big-league boobage! The neckline of Reg’s soaking wet shirt now plunged well below the level of her breasts, and Al, and everyone else, could clearly see the side of either one as well the outline of her large areolas, each capped by a fat, pink nipple!


Primrose sang on, but the audience was now not quite sure what to focus on…, Prim’s recital and sneak peek at her upcoming performance, or Regina’s sneak peek she was unknowingly providing, free of an admission charge.

“Oh, ho, ho don't you know, A song a day…
Keeps mean old mister gloom away…
Hard luck don't like music, With that certain swing…
So swing it as you sing it, baby sing!

Regina’s loosened skirt settled lower on her Rubenesque loins, providing all seated before her a view of her lower hips, bare below her short, and now delightfully parted, blouse, and nearly exposing ‘her cradle of love.’ On the left and right, her low panty line was underscored by a pair of sturdy garter straps, riding beneath her unmentionables, but pulled tight and pressing firmly on her sexy tummy, bulging so slightly above her well-groomed womanhood. As she spun around, the men watching inhaled deeply to discern another pair of frilly stocking suspenders deliciously dimpling the swell of the globes of her bare upper buttocks. Across the appetizing expanse of pink flesh between her short shirt and sagging skirt, there was still no sign of the top of Regina’s panties, only the mauve straps mentioned earlier. Butt now, as Regina turned and stooped for the tambourine, her upper glutes jostled against each other. Nearly a full inch of her broad ass crack was on display. The younger women watching, understanding Regina’s posterior predicament only too-well, wriggled in their chairs for assurance their panties were exactly where they should be. Properly assuaged, they collectively began to giggle knowing with visible proof, their bossy school principal’s panties were pulled off her ripe bottom, not quite at ‘half-mast’ but her ‘colors’ were certainly now dipped deliciously, revealing a quarter-sized crescent of Regina’s celebrated creamy, now-uncovered moon. Al’s eyes bugged, along with those of all the men watching, their mouths hanging open to stare at this glistening peach, gripped between white and black bands of clothing, flecked with a sheen of sweat, and yet covered in goose pimples.


With a peek back at her audience, all of whom were now focused on her mother, Primrose hiked the back of her skirt to provide a flash of her frilly panties as she danced off stage and behind the screen. Regina smiled broadly, completely caught up in the moment of her performance. Her return to reality came suddenly when her boss Cordelia Cockfoster, commanded icily, “MISS REGINA DUBOIS!!, …Please compose yourself immediately!” Regina suddenly looked down and saw in alarm exactly what type of performance she was putting on with her malfunctioning wardrobe. Just then, the irksome Mimic squawked, “Regina, AWK…, Cordelia said stop flashing, and compose yourself, AUK…, COMPOSE YOURSELF right now!” With sudden realization, and her face as red as the roses blooming about her, Regina stared at her friends wide-eyed, her mouth an ‘O’ of astonishment. With one hand, she hauled her skirt up over her bottom, and with the other, slapped it with a delightful smack against her sopping wet shirt, now nearly wide-open. She squealed in alarm to feel her gloved fingers contact bare skin and right between her plump pillows, as she lifted one leg, turned her side to her spectators, and pitched forward in a useless attempt to contain her unfettered breasts. This generated a very enthusiastic applause as Regina quickly excused herself, her high heels prancing with nervous clicks on the parquet floor. She spluttered, “I need to see how dessert is coming,” as she minced away toward the kitchens, her wet shirt providing nearly a Spring Break seeable from a club in Florida, as her bosoms bounced in a most yummy fashion. Regina’s final encore during her exit, was due to pulling her skirt up a little too high to hide her fanny. She now was flashing everyone the spectacle of her gorgeous legs, high-heeled and rightfully, RHT seamed-stockinged, stage right, as she scampered for cover, her welts, shadow welts, and keyholes all visible, as well as a few creamy inches of bare leg above her exposed stocking tops!