[ENF] Will’s Mom Comes Undone

[Chasmo]

Like many an American town, the idyllic suburb of Davidson, Maryland, an affluent community equidistant between Baltimore and Washington, D.C., looked to its residents each year to determine who among them would constitute the tony village's "Town Council." Although mostly a ceremonial body -- the true local "power," to the extent there was any, was exercised by the Anne Arundel County Board -- the Davidson Town Council afforded residents an opportunity to have a say in issues as disparate as neighborhood beautification and where the next town dog park might be located.

Better said, in a village populated mainly by wealthy, type-A, overachieving suburbanites, election to the Davidson Town Council was a subtle source of bragging rights -- a small but symbolic token of one-upmanship -- a pseudo-altruistic stage upon which to say "look at me!" And no one in Davidson craved a spotlight, loved to boast, reveled in her superiority or silently screamed "look at me" more than Mrs. Danielle Marie Parnell. At 43, the 5’ 3” stunning mother of three, through the blessing of great genetics and an unsurpassed dedication to fitness, had a body that rivaled women half her age. What's more, her flawless face, a perfect amalgam of Kerri Russel and Miranda Kerr, was a genuine vision of beauty. Danielle Parnell was spectacular -- and she knew it.

The suburban uber-MILF, who along with her physical beauty excelled professionally as the managing partner of SmythKnight -- one of the world's largest and most prestigious law firms -- loved nothing more than the sight of her own glorious reflection. What made her equally happy however was the impact that her physical beauty, reflected and actual, had upon every man and boy who laid eyes on her -- the losers. Despite internally craving their attention Danielle was outwardly disdainful of even their merest glances, and delighted in loudly and publicly shaming any man that she "caught" staring too long. Whether at the office, her children's athletic, school or other events, or at one of the many benefits and social outings where she always made an impact, the fetching Mrs. Parnell reveled in emasculating the undeserving and feckless men around her.

The true icing on the cake though was the humiliation that their wives, girlfriends or daughters would suffer as Danielle castigated their husbands, sons and boyfriends. Perhaps if the pathetic haus fraus, soccer moms and other assorted cows took better care of themselves they wouldn't be rendered invisible by her beauty -- but, she thought to herself, they didn't and they were.

Not surprisingly, it was the joy brought on by Mrs. Parnell's stunning beauty and the opportunity to flaunt both it and her extraordinary intellect at the day's planned Town Council debate that brought a smile to Danielle's gorgeous face as she stepped from the driver's seat of her brand new 2016 Mercedes AMG GT S. Laughing on the inside, the self-satisfied alpha-lawyer reveled in the similarities between herself and the super-car from which she had just alighted -- each in her mind, sophisticated with a spectacular body and beyond the reach of most any man.

As the self-appointed Queen Bee of almost all things Davidson, Mrs. Parnell had grown tired of having to seek the Town Council's approval for issues as simple as having the driveway of her home paved in Belgian brick. The idea of supplicating herself to the likes of Emily Duncan, -- that slovenly town district attorney and wife of a hardware store salesman -- or to Rachel Miras -- the officious "hobbit" who served as the local PTA president -- was unappealing to Mrs. Parnell on the best of days. That those two nobodies supported the council's recent decision to reject the Parnell family's application to install a six foot tall hedgerow along the entirety of the property line separating their yard from the road was the last straw.

From the public outdoor stage that sat a mere 100 yards from where she had just parked, Danielle was determined, during the evening’s planned political tête-à-tête, to unwind that perceived injustice, and undo its witless and unattractive perpetrators by winning herself a seat on the council and, through her beauty, wiles and intellect, to sway the governing body’s pathetic and easily manipulated male majority to see things her way. That during the impending debate she would have the opportunity to employ her unrivaled oratory prowess to publicly humiliate Mrs. Duncan and Mrs. Miras -- both of whom she considered no match for her intellectually -- was mere icing on the cake. Danielle smiled to herself as she pictured Davidson's gathered men and boys laughing as her skill as a public speaker rendered her two ineloquent "opponents" completely tongue-tied.

Of course, any glee the town's male population would get from Mrs. Parnell exhibiting her intellectual superiority over her witless co-candidates would pale in comparison to the spell those same men and boys would fall under while basking in the glory of Danielle's physical beauty. A devilish smile crossed the lusty lawyer's gorgeous face as she imagined the contrast between, on the one hand, the pasty, rumpled Emily Duncan and the squat, homely Rachel Miras -- each no doubt sporting some horrible, boxy poly-blend suit, comfortable shoes and dime-store haircut -- and, on the other hand, the tan, fit, magnificent face and body that smiled at her from the mirror each morning and that today was bedecked in towering heels and a most fashionable and form fitting power suit. She almost felt sorry for them . . . until she replaced that thought with the reality of how truly pathetic she knew they were . . . the peasants.

To lay the groundwork for her campaign victory, the relentlessly sexy suburbanite, beginning some six weeks or so before today's scheduled debate, had launched a stealthy but effective charm offensive against Davidson's male contingent. Simply put, she returned the glances of the town's men and boys with a smile, appeared interested in their tiresome conversations and even went so far, on rare occasions, to lay her perfectly manicured hand upon a forearm or shoulder and let it linger there for best effect. What's more, to emphasize her superiority over other women, she always made a point of conducting these false flirtations in front of the target's wife, boyfriend or mother.

"Really Mr. Duncan," she would coo to Emily's husband as Mrs. Duncan looked on, "I had no idea that the hardware business was so interesting."

"My gosh Billy," the sexy alpha-mom smiled at Mrs. Miras' eldest son when she saw him with his mother at the community pool, "aren't you becoming quite the young man."

"Why Mr. Hess," Danielle coquettishly whispered to Rebecca Ross' handsome husband, the only man who genuinely stirred Mrs. Parnell's genuine desire, "that uniform looks very good on you. Have you been working out even harder than usual?"

Needless to say, while Davidson's men and boys took to the more approachable Mrs. Danielle Marie Parnell like fish to water, the bucolic burb's female population wasn't so easily swayed. They knew exactly what the comely counselor was up to but, despite that knowledge and to their eternal frustration, there was not a thing they could do about it due to their being completely intimidated by the domineering diva. Of course, her ability to render Davidson's women collectively impotent only stoked the fire of the imperious Mrs. Parnell's ego even further. She genuinely thrived on their fear -- the halfwits -- and reveled in her own superiority.

With that superiority first and foremost in her mind, and as she made her way from her fabulous new Mercedes, across Davidson Park, to the raised outdoor platform that would soon be the sight of the late summer evening's town council debate, Mrs. Parnell found herself face-to-face with a gaggle of the very women she held in such disdain.

Namely, in addition to her so-called "competition" of Rachel Miras and Emily Duncan, the group included Nicole Silver -- a statuesque 5' 8" redheaded lawyer with a face that favored Nicole Kidman and a shapely but extraordinarily fit body that reflected equal parts Nordic heritage and Soul Cycle -- and Katherine Wray, a Tennessee native and former high school and college track star, who, with a passion for running that spanned the fifteen years since her Stanford graduation, had maintained her endless legs and all-around fabulous body in spectacular form.

Mustering up her best fake smile, the emerald eyed vixen reluctantly acknowledged her "lesser" neighbors with thinly disguised contempt.

"Good evening ladies," she began first addressing Emily and Rachel, "I just wanted to wish the two of you luck and to tell you how much I'm looking forward to working with . . . well . . . one of you . . . on the council."

"What's that supposed to mean, Danielle" interjected an agitated Mrs. Silver who had always been annoyed by Danielle's patronizing tone particularly because Nicole too was a Washington, D.C. based attorney, albeit without the professional plaudits that Mrs. Parnell had managed to garner.

"I'm so sorry Nicole," condescended the imperious Mrs. Parnell, relishing the opportunity to again humiliate the athletic if buxom redhead, "but you see there are only two seats open on the town council this term, the one that I'll be winning and the one that Edna and Raquel here will be vying for . . . do you understand now?"

And then, flashing her perfect smile and with a gleam in her eye worthy of Maleficent, Davidson's most self-satisfied narcissist turned on one of her sky-high, 4.5" high, black and white, leopard-print, calf hair, Christian Louboutin Iriza d'Orsay pumps, made unmistakable by the designer's iconic red leather soles, and, looking over her shoulder as she strode away, quipped, "it seems I've tarried too long ladies. Best of luck battling for the spot of top loser . . . looking at those suits it's a position of which you're both quite worthy."

Each of Emily and Rachel first looked coyly at the rather drab and unsophisticated outfit worn by the other before their collective gaze focused on the departing prima donna who, hips swaying in a form-fitting, black, wrap-around Giorgio Armani skirt fastened at the hip by a very stylized large button, veritably cat-walked her way through the gathering crowd as she headed for the stage. In stark contrast to their unfashionable and somewhat mannish skirt suits, Danielle's couture skirt was topped by a matching, fitted, black, bolero style jacket that in turn covered what to any causal observer's eye was a black and white, animal print blouse that encircled the nape of Mrs. Parnell's neck before plunging to reveal a barely discernible cleft atop her ample but appropriately covered bust-line.

Amid the palpable dejection of her unceremoniously humbled neighbors, Nicole Silver -- who would be moderating the evening's debate -- was the first to bring voice to what each of Emily, Rachel and Katherine was thinking.

"How dare that little trollop treat us that way," the buxom redhead fumed, "with her Edna and Raquel nonsense and that 'do you understand now Nicole?' dig. What I understand is that someone needs to teach that little tease a lesson she won't soon forget."

"Do you really think this suit makes me look like a loser," queried the crest-fallen Emily Duncan, "I know it's a bit baggy but I've always kind of liked it."

"Of course not," Nicole raged on, "you look fine. Don't you see, that's just her playing mind games with you . . . trying to embarrass you so that you don't perform at your best. She gets in your head so that you're worried about how you look or how to beat Rachel rather than how to defeat her. She's the one who needs to be embarrassed!"

"That's easier said than done," offered Katherine Wray. "Just look at her over there," the fetching runner continued -- pointing at a preening Mrs. Parnell as she cozied up to a group of Davidson's male residents who were beginning to assemble for the debate, "she's got those fellas hangin' on her every word."

"And she's always so cool under pressure," offered up Rachel Miras in a defeated tone. "There's nothing we can do to make Little Miss Perfect come unglued. We should just round up our kids, get up on that stage, get this thing over with and head home. After all, it's only the town council and," she looked sympathetically at her friend Emily before she spoke next, "at least one of us will still get a chance to be on it. Good luck tonight Em."

With that, and despite the increasing exasperation of one Nicole Yanika Silver, Emily Duncan along with her son Calum and Rachel Miras with her son Billy and daughter Sarah in tow, headed for the stage. Apropos of Davidson Maryland being the embodiment of Norman Rockwell's America, each candidate for town council would be joined on stage by her children who, after being introduced to the crowd of nearly 500 of Davdison's finest that now populated the rows of white, wooden, folding chairs that had been set up on the park's vast green just for this occasion, would remain on stage seated behind their mothers. In addition to the aforementioned Duncan and Miras progeny, Danielle was followed onto the stage by her own three children -- Will, the oldest, Anna, her middle child, and Maria, the youngest Parnell.

And so the debate began. Mrs. Silver explained both the format and the rules, the former of which afforded each candidate first to make a brief uninterrupted presentation before answering series of questions that Nicole would spread equally among the three women and the latter of which specified the time permitted for both answers to those questions and the rebuttal of the other candidates to those answers. Based on names drawn from a hat, Rachel Miras went first and, true to Mrs. Parnell's plan, floundered horribly due to a combination of self-doubt and her arrogant neighbors intimidation. From tripping over her son's foot as she approached the podium, to tripping over her own words during her introduction, Mrs. Miras made a disastrous first impression. One small solace was the soft applause, more as a sign of sympathy with her plight than confidence in her candidacy, which she received from the crowd as she returned to her seat.

Next came Emily Duncan who, in order to clarify her plans for the council had prepared a PowerPoint presentation that was projected onto a large screen that sat center-stage. Unfortunately for Mrs. Duncan, and despite her son Calum's best efforts that afternoon to facilitate its repair, the laser pointer that she sought to employ to walk the audience through her slides instead, due to the strength of the laser itself, cut a rather large hole in the screen causing it, as well as any likelihood of Emily's success, to go crashing to the stage's floor. To make matters worse, the near Vaudevillian scene elicited peals of laughter from the gathered crowd led most vociferously by the imperious Danielle Marie Parnell and her son Will. Mrs. Parnell couldn't believe she had wasted any time charming Davidson's men in light of the predictable implosion of her two "competitors."

Once the mess of Emily Duncan's cataclysm had been cleaned up and Mrs. Duncan had sheepishly returned to her seat next to her son Calum -- who not only felt awful about his role in his mother's humiliating meltdown but knew that arrogant Will Parnell's bossy show-off of a mother would soon be making things even worse for her -- Danielle Marie Parnell strode very confidently to the podium. Smiling like the Cheshire cat, the emerald eyed beauty panned the audience of Davidson's good citizens and, employing merely for sport a confidence building trick she had learned as a high-school debate champion, imagined the men and women of the gathered throng in their underwear -- the losers. Little did she know that the tables would soon be turned with the added benefit for her audience of their not needing to employ any imagination.

"Good evening my friends," began the imperious uber-MILF sporting a sparkling if insincere smile.

"I'm delighted to see you've all taken the time tonight to help inform yourselves about a most important community decision . . . who will join the Davidson Town Council."

Looking back with a considerable amount of disdain at the two women now seated uncomfortably behind her on stage, the haughty suburban sexpot continued, "I had originally planned to share with you in my allotted introductory time some details about myself, my impressive career, my sophisticated worldview and why . . . in light of that . . . I am the natural choice for your votes. That said, seeing how more of your time than expected has been wasted by my co-candidates vying to determine between them who is the least incompetent alternative to fill the second available spot on the council, I will try to keep my words brief."

And then, standing majestically before "the people" in her 4.5" black and white, leopard-print, calf hair, Louboutins, tight, black, wrap-around Armani skirt and a matching fitted, black, bolero style jacket that opened to reveal a black and white, animal print blouse that coyly framed the mouth-watering cleft atop her pert but ample cleavage, Danielle Marie Parnell began articulately to enumerate her many accolades and accomplishments. The stark contrast of her boundless confidence, arrogance and sex appeal with the temerity and pratfalls of Mrs. Duncan and Mrs. Miras stirred the loins of every man and boy watching. With her luscious mane of brown hair -- made resplendent in the evening's twilight with its spectacularly sun-kissed blonde highlights -- set atop her beautiful face in a severe but sultry bun, and her emerald eyes framed by a pair of tortoise-shell cat eye glasses, Mrs. Parnell was every inch a school boy's -- and grown man's -- sexy teacher fantasy, and she knew it.

What she didn't know was that one of the boys sitting right behind her on stage -- Rachel Miras' son Billy -- had made his reputation as Gonzaga High School's most notorious prankster by taking down arrogant teachers for sport. Whether it was filling pompous Coach Smith's gym shorts with itching powder and then leading the laughter while he scratched himself silly, pulling the fire alarm just as Mrs. Kayser -- Gonzaga's sexy trigonometry Nazi -- was just about to launch a pop quiz and then delighting in her being read the riot act by Principal Whiting for trying to stop students from leaving her classroom or melting Muenster cheese on the space heater of that self-same Principal Whiting's office and then spreading a rumor that she had uncontrollable flatulence -- Billy Miras new a thing or two about humbling self-important adults.

But this time it was different, this time it wasn't going to be just for sport, this time it was personal. It was bad enough that stuck-up nerd Will Parnell's bossy show-off of a mom made a habit of disciplining Billy and his friends every chance she got, but tonight the town tease had gone too far. Tonight that Parnell woman had messed with Billy's mom -- and that changed everything -- that was not going to stand. It was time to take this snob down a peg or two he thought, but how?

And then, as if the heavens heard his plea, what looked like a silver pen fell from the lap of Mrs. Emily Duncan -- who only moments ago had likewise been made to look the fool by Mrs. Parnell -- and rolled to a stop at young William Miras' feet. It was the laser pointer that Billy's friend Calum, who was sitting shamefully on stage next to his own mom while the self-important Mrs. Parnell droned on, had in an unsuccessful attempt at repair, turned from a laser pointer to a laser paper cutter. Picking it up, it was as if a light bulb turned on over Billy Miras' head. If the pointer generated enough heat to cut through paper it could certainly create enough warmth to cause the usually unflappable Mrs. Parnell to sweat a bit.

[amfanon]

Part...part 1? Part?

I'm not sure I can take this.

Must have morrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrre!

MORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRE!!

*walks off proud that he successfully hid his WMCU addiction*

[hocman]

WOW!! This is going to be another epic ending for Mrs. Parnell.

[Chasmo]

As the perennially confident Danielle Parnell began to wrap up her introductory words -- all the while delighting in the rapt attention with which each man and boy in the audience hung on her every word -- she suddenly began to feel very warm. Despite the sun having set almost completely set, Mrs. Parnell could swear its rays were beaming down on the back of her neck as small beads of perspiration began to form on her usually bone dry brow and atop her perfectly formed lips. Thankfully she'd be able to sit down in a moment which would give her a chance to remove her jacket.

"Never let them see you sweat," she said to herself as she did her best to push the minor discomfort from her mind.

Billy Miras couldn't believe his luck. The light from the laser was completely invisible to the naked eye but its beam clearly had the intended effect. More than once he watched the finely manicured hand of Mrs. Parnell reach back to rub the bare patch of skin on her supple neck between the collar of her jacket and the bottom of her officious librarian style up-do. It was working.

"Thank you Mrs. Parnell," came the voice of Nicole Silver who was surprised -- and delighted -- to see the sheen on the arrogant Danielle's brow. Maybe the little tease isn't as cocksure as she'd like us all to think, she mused.

Snapping out of her micro-fantasy, Mrs. Silver continued, "we'll now move on to the question and answer portion of the evening. Mrs. Duncan, the first question is to you."

As Emily Duncan stepped to the podium to field the first of the debate's questions, Danielle took her seat as well as the opportunity remove her stylish bolero blazer. As she hung the fashionable jacket off the back of her chair, Davidson's male residents were treated to a most delicious site. Up to that point no one could have known that Mrs. Parnell's very businesslike Armani bolero suit coat, once removed, revealed a Tom Ford backless, sleeveless, crop-top blouse that in turn uncovered the self-satisfied lawyer's incredibly toned and tan arms, flawlessly muscled but feminine back and, most alluringly, between where her wraparound skirt fastened at her waist and the bottom the crop-top ended, unblemished golden skin of her wonderfully trim midsection.

Danielle had donned the sexy top not so much to flaunt her undeniable physical glory in the face of other women -- that was done easily enough with her jacket on -- but to validate for herself how truly superior she was to the dumpy nobodies standing beside her. What's more she thought to herself, with the result of this ridiculous debate and the election to follow already a foregone conclusion, why not cool myself off while working the town's pathetic male population into a lather. At the very least it would snap them from the monotony of whatever blather was coming from Emily Duncan. More definitively, it would most certainly snap their nether regions to attention. Smiling devilishly to herself and delighted with the added sex appeal brought on by duffing her couture bolero, Danielle regained her composure quickly and completely.

"Mrs. Parnell," Nicole Silver announced from the moderator's desk just below the stage, "you have two minutes to respond."

While Danielle veritably strutted to the podium for her say, the ire of the crowd's women increased exponentially. They sat in collective disbelief at the audacity of the little tease who, by taking her blazer off, had captivated entirely their husbands, boyfriends and sons and in so doing rendered them completely invisible. In the meantime, Billy Miras cursed his failure. Sure he had caused the preening narcissist to sweat a bit but somehow, by merely peeling off her stylish little jacket, she had turned that discomfort to her advantage and now seemed more self-assured than ever as she eloquently dissected the argument Calum’s mother had just made. He had to try again.

Looking at the beautifully toned and tanned back of Will's mother, particularly at the thin swath of fabric that, running behind Mrs. Parnell's neck seemed to hold her entire blouse in place, Billy came up with one final desperate plan. Maybe, just maybe, if the laser was hot enough to cut through paper, it could also cut through fabric. Before testing that hypothesis on Mrs. Parnell's blouse, he thought, it would make sense to run a quick test on something else -- but what?

With her scathing retort to Mrs. Duncan complete, Danielle sat back down next to her son Will.

"This is easier than taking candy from a baby," Billy heard her snidely remark to her equally arrogant and smirking child.

Looking at Will Parnell's smug face, and as Rachel Miras stood up to take Nicole's next question, Billy decided on his test subject. Watching the sexy Mrs. Parnell take a seat next to her son, Billy noticed that Will's khaki trousers were fastened by an old fashioned threaded button. Carefully, Billy Miras took aim at the threads holding that button together and, after a few swipes back and forth, to his great delight, watched the button roll from Will Parnell's lap onto the floor -- success. What's more, no one else, including Will, whose zipper had opened almost completely once the button gave way, had noticed a thing.

After the crowd listened to Emily Duncan respond to the answer that Mrs. Miras had provided to the moderator's most recent question, Nicole Silver's voice again could be heard to say, "Mrs. Parnell this question is for you."

As Danielle approached the podium and the fetching Mrs. Silver continued her question, Billy Miras went to work. Rather than beginning with her blouse, the young scoundrel aimed the laser beam at the silken tie that held Mrs. Parnell's luscious locks in the imperious bun atop her head. Slowly he watched the silk begin to split but, with a grander reveal in mind, stopped short of cutting it completely thereby leaving Danielle's appearance thoroughly unchanged. As the sexy solicitor continued ably to answer Mrs. Silver's question, Billy next took aim at the strip of fabric behind Danielle's soft, tanned neck. But again, rather than slicing all the way through the fancy garment, the hoped for future failure of which would cause Mrs. Parnell's blouse to fall quickly to the ground and, ideally, confirm Billy's suspicion that this particular garment did not permit Will's mother the opportunity for a bra, Rachel's young son merely set the stage for what was soon -- along with most every man in attendance -- to come.

Ably completing her answer to Nicole Silver's question, Danielle returned to her seat on stage with her confidence and swagger growing with every high heeled step.

"Mrs. Miras," Nicole Silver continued, "you have two minutes to respond."

In a very thinly veiled stage whisper that Rachel Miras was most definitely intended to and did hear, Mrs. Parnell snarkily remarked to her son, "she wouldn't be able to respond if she had two years."

Although he was willing his mother to succeed, Billy knew that Mrs. Parnell's barb, which he also heard, had completely undermined Rachel's confidence even before she reached the podium. As Mrs. Miras stumbled over her words in an attempt to refute the learned and eloquent position that Danielle had most ably elucidated, Billy's blood boiled. Gazing over at the pompous Mrs. Parnell exchanging eye rolls with her smug son Will -- who was becoming just as much a know-it-all as his mother -- while his own mom floundered publicly, Billy opened up yet another avenue for his attack.

With her admittedly fabulous and firm legs crossed, the result of which permitted her skirt to open slightly revealing an appropriate but alluring amount of mouth-watering thigh, it became clear to Billy Miras that Danielle's very fashionable Armani wrap-around skirt relied entirely upon the rather large and highly stylized button holding it together to remain safely around the pushy MILF's toned waste. By now an expert marksman with his laser pointer, Rachel's son slowly and purposefully -- but not yet thoroughly -- began cutting through the threads that held the big button in place.

Following Rachel Miras' mangled attempt at rebutting Mrs. Parnell's answer to Nicole's most recent question, the red-headed Mrs. Silver, who was relishing her role as moderator and mistress of ceremonies even as she fumed at all of the male attention in the park going to her self-perceived rival, sought to bring the debate down the home stretch.

"Thank you all ladies for the informed and spirited public exchange of ideas this evening," she began. "I'm sure I speak for all of Davidson's residents when I say how impressed I was by the level of discourse and civility."

For God's sake, Danielle thought to herself, put a sock in it you fat cow and let's get this over with.

"At this point," continued Nicole, "all that remains is for each of you to make a final statement. You will have three minutes to do so and, Mrs. Parnell, we will begin with you."

Rising from her seat as she adjusted her glasses on the bridge of her perfect nose, Danielle Marie Parnell felt invincible. In less than an hour she had shamed the two women who had deigned to oppose her, reasserted her intellectual and physical dominance over the dimwitted female population of Davidson and stoked the libidos of every pathetic man and boy in attendance -- most of who she imagined would be either pleasuring themselves to her image tonight or picturing her as they engaged in whatever otherwise unfulfilling sex acts their useless wives and girlfriends might permit. In other words, as usual, she had won.

"Why thank you Nicole," the diva of Davidson began, "and permit me to say that in the simple role of moderator you've clearly found a sweet-spot for your . . . . oh . . . how best to describe it . . . limited prosecutorial talents."

As the men in the audience laughed at Danielle's snide put-down of the buxom redhead, and Nicole Silver stared daggers at her, Mrs. Parnell continued, "and thank you to my opponents. It's not every day that you get to witness firsthand such a graphic example of dogged perseverance in the face of abject failure and hopelessness. Bravo ladies. Clearly nothing can get you down . . . you are unflappable."

While Emily Duncan and Rachel Miras stoically endured their silent humiliation, and the rest of the women in attendance sat stunned by the sheer gall of the town's self-appointed Queen Bee, Danielle Parnell arrogantly went in for the kill.

"Citizens of Davidson, let's be frank . . ."

But before the next word could leave her plump red lips, Danielle again felt the sensation of the sun's warmth -- this time on her back -- and, equally distracted and confused, paused for a moment to reach over her shoulder. Some in the crowd, surprised by the ordinarily hyper-confident lawyer's break in cadence, began to murmur.

" . . . as I was saying," she began again, somewhat less confident than before and with the smallest beads of perspiration forming over her pretty lips and on her lovely forehead, "let's be frank . . . while the town's charter will compel you to choose between the two battling failures behind me so that no vacancies are created on the council, there is only one woman here tonight who truly deserves your vote and that woman, of course, is . . ."

But again, before Mrs. Parnell could finish, thanks to a rather quick flick by Billy Miras of his now trusty laser pointer, the rather austere bun atop her head came undone causing her hair to cascade down her back and, to the delight of every woman in attendance, resigning the usually collected beauty to even further distress. Smiling uncomfortably, and with a slight sheen of perspiration now forming on her lovely décolletage, Danielle tried her best to rearrange her hair into a bun but, having no success, settled for putting it into a makeshift pony tail with what remained of the black ribbon.

"Excuse me," Mrs. Parnell quietly remarked more sheepishly than she had intended, "I don't know quite what happened there."

And then, attempting to regain her confidence, she distractedly asked of no one in particular, "now -- where was I . . ?"

"I think you were persevering in the face of abject failure," joked Emily Duncan loudly, eliciting peals of laughter from on and off the stage particularly from the women who loved seeing the tables turned, if only temporarily, on Mrs. Parnell.

Danielle -- already out of sorts -- was thrown further off her game. She knew she needed to reassert herself lest she be made to look even more foolish by this Duncan woman so, spinning around on her very high heels to confront the source of the joke that had been made at her expense, Danielle went aggressively, if somewhat uncharacteristically, on the offensive, "now you listen here you . . . you . . . this is my time to speak -- not yours."

As the chorus of women's giggles grew louder at Danielle’s evidently ebbing confidence, Mrs. Parnell snapped back around and, directly facing Nicole Silver who was now laughing along with everyone else, chided the pretty moderator, "and you Silver, get some control over this circus. Is there nothing you can do right!?!"

"Now, now Danielle," smiled Nicole Silver, loving that for once she had an advantage to play against the snooty Mrs. Parnell, "try to stay calm. The voters will want a councilwoman who is cool under pressure. You, on the other hand, seem to be . . . shall we say . . . a little hot under the collar."

"Don't patronize me you cow," shouted Danielle further losing her composure while trying to regain the upper hand as the likes of Katherine Wray, who had suffered many an indignity at the highly moisturized hands of Mrs. Parnell, laughed even more heartily, "do you honestly think that I feel any pressure competing against these two . . . nobodies . . . in this . . . this . . . high school popularity contest . . ."

Reveling in the beauty queen's distress, despite being called a nobody, Rachel Miras joined the fray, "clearly not Danielle . . . nothing can get you down . . . you're unflappable."

As the local PTA President laughed vociferously with the crowd that Danielle had now all but lost and the rage inside Mrs. Parnell bubbled up to the surface from having her own words thrown back in her smug but beautiful face -- the perspiration on which was causing her usually perfect make-up to run -- the comely counselor again spun around for a confrontation.

"How dare you speak to me that way . . . you . . . you . . . little . . . HOBBIT," Danielle finally shouted having abandoned all sense of propriety, "do you have any idea who I am?"

But before Rachel or anyone else could answer, and as the crowd and those on stage stared in shocked silence at Mrs. Parnell's venomous overreaction to Rachel Miras' harmless jibe, Billy Miras again flicked the wrist of his hand holding the laser pointer -- this time at the big button on Danielle's fashionable skirt.

[amfanon]

It's not that I can't stop. Because I can. I can stop reading any time I want to. I just REALLY need you to post the next part. Not for any particular reason.

[Chasmo]

You're cracking me up so thanks. That said, I have some good news and some bad news. Bad news first -- I'm still struggling a bit with finishing this story so it may be a few days before the next part goes up -- sorry about that. On the good (I would call it great) news front, if you watch the current trailer for the upcoming episode of HBO's The Brink, you'll see in the final 3 or 4 seconds a scene that in my mind is straight out of a WMCU tale -- great stuff!! I have no idea what the context of the scene might be or whether I'll even enjoy it in context. But taking it as it is (without any contextual framework) and superimposing on it my idea of Danielle making a grand escape gives me great joy.

[amfanon]

Originally Posted by Chasmo

You're cracking me up so thanks. That said, I have some good news and some bad news. Bad news first -- I'm still struggling a bit with finishing this story so it may be a few days before the next part goes up -- sorry about that. On the good (I would call it great) news front, if you watch the current trailer for the upcoming episode of HBO's The Brink, you'll see in the final 3 or 4 seconds a scene that in my mind is straight out of a WMCU tale -- great stuff!! I have no idea what the context of the scene might be or whether I'll even enjoy it in context. But taking it as it is (without any contextual framework) and superimposing on it my idea of Danielle making a grand escape gives me great joy.

I hope you're right the episode, cause those 2 seconds look interesting , and I hope you're wrong about how long it takes for you to finish, because I'm running out of creativity for non-annoying ways to say I'm looking forward to the next part. I know, hard to believe, but true.

[Chasmo]

I apologize in advance for an ending with which I'm still not completely satisfied. Although I may yet revise it or pen an epilogue I hope that it doesn't totally disappoint.

* * *

As if by magic, and as the entire community of Davidson looked on, the very fashionable, very sophisticated, black Armani skirt, that had so endowed Mrs. Danielle Marie Parnell with the power she had projected all night (and that Rachel Miras feared she was about to suffer in full), parted at the lovely lawyer's slender waist before quickly falling into a pool at her high heeled feet revealing a very tight, very translucent, pair of black and white leopard spotted lacy La Perla boy briefs.

As the shell shocked solicitor's eyes practically bugged out of her sockets, and her oh-so-stylish tortoise shell glasses slid down to the end of her perfect nose, the prior silence broke and the entire crowd -- particularly its women -- erupted into a thunderous cacophony of laughter. Standing there before them, in her barely there panties with a pattern that matched her towering high heels, was the town's biggest tease and narcissist -- her mouth wide open in the shape of a giant "O" -- but for the first time in anyone's memory, without a word to say.

For the men, seeing the outline of the sexy mom's gloriously exercised ass through the lacy confines of Mrs. Parnell's panties was more than recompense for any slights they had suffered whether from her mere eye rolls or withering tongue lashings. Long had they fantasized about what the stuck up little sexpot might be wearing under her power suits and now, unbelievably, they knew. There wasn't a flaccid member in the park. For the women, watching the little tease go from frazzled -- a wonderful enough comeuppance -- to skirt-less was a form of sweet revenge the likes of which they could never have imagined. If they only knew what was yet to come.

"Oh my God . . . my skirt . . . my panties . . . stop looking at me," screamed Danielle, finally giving voice to her predicament while her mind tried to comprehend how in mere moments she had gone from regally commanding the crowd to its laughing stock. As her hands instinctively sought to cover, in front and in back, her luxuriously sexy lingerie -- intended only for her private pleasure but now on display for all to see -- her usually facile mind kicked into an overdrive of doubt and confusion. How could this have happened? My hair . . . my skirt!?! Why are all these . . . these nobodies . . . laughing and pointing at me -- at me? How dare they . . . I'm beautiful . . . and brilliant . . . and . . . sexy . . . and . . . and . . . oh my God . . . they can all see my underwear!!

As the crowd howled at his mother's predicament, young Will Parnell knew he had to act -- to defend his mother's honor, to restore her sense of decency (Mrs. Parnell’s daughters had already made a run for it before their mother's wardrobe malfunction). So, ignoring the confusing feelings that had overtaken him upon seeing his usually, calm, cool, collected and domineering mother reduced to a quaking, knock-kneed, deer in the headlights who, with her hands now on her knees was inadvertently thrusting her firm, panty covered bottom rearward in an unintentionally sexualized pose, the young gallant sprang into action.

"I'm coming mom," Will shouted as he rose purposefully from the chair behind where his mother stood and prepared to rescue both her skirt and her quickly diminishing dignity. But just as he reached the apex of his still somewhat diminutive prepubescent height of five and a half feet, the effect of Billy Miras' earlier laser pointer test became fully evident. With their button having been surreptitiously sliced off and their zipper having fallen in the process, Will Parnell's khaki slacks dropped unceremoniously to his loafer encased feet causing Danielle's son and prospective rescuer to fall face first toward the stage floor . . . and his mother's waist.

As he thrust his hands out to break that fall, accidentally grabbing and tearing from his mother's hips her $500 La Perla lacy boy briefs, Will Parnell revealed two things that brought the already wild crowd to a veritable frothy frenzy of hilarity.

First, beneath her very lacy, very brief, La Perla panties was exposed not the incredibly tiny but oh-so-naughty matching La Perla micro thong that Mrs. Parnell purchased to round out her feline sex appeal -- the sight of which would have been more than mortifying enough for the unraveling prima donna. For some reason Danielle was unable to put her hands on that particular lacy delight this afternoon as she got ready and, in a reckless decision she now knew she would forever regret, Mrs. Parnell had instead slipped over her very fit, very tanned hips -- and into the cleft of her perfect little bottom -- a teeny, tiny black latex thong across the front of which, in tawdry, cheap and tasteless rhinestones, was written in block letters the word "SLAVE."

As the color visibly drained from her completely astonished face, and the crowd howled ever more loudly, Danielle silently cursed herself for the late-night, impulsive, online purchase she made from flirtylingerie.com recently after a combination of too much wine, a very long bubble bath and a finger-fueled fantasy of being taken -- being dominated -- not by the hunky Adam Hess who Mrs. Parnell loved to tease to distraction whenever possible while in so doing humiliating his wife Rebecca Ross, but by the jealous Rebecca Ross . . . all while the likes of Emily Duncan, Rachel Miras and Davidson's feckless men and boys watched . . . and pointed . . and laughed.

That Mrs. Parnell had attempted to push that fantasy from her mind's eye earlier today as -- slipping into her secret latex shame -- she prepared to play the role of dominatrix to the hapless Emily and Rachel now counted for naught. As veritable tidal waves of humiliation began to crash over her, Danielle feared that not only her two opponents -- those cheap-suit wearing soccer moms -- but everyone else in attendance would know that she -- Danielle Marie Parnell -- struggled between, on the one hand, her haughty, imperious, take-no-prisoners, alpha-female persona and, on the other, her need and desire to be dominated -- to be very publicly and very shamefully put in her place by the very women -- the women -- who she publicly lorded over on an almost daily basis. Would they now deduce that the construct of her fashionable clothing and domineering personality was nothing but a mere facade to hide what deep down was a truly submissive nature? What could possibly be more humiliating?

The answer to that question was found in the second impact of Will Parnell's fall for, as he rested on all fours with his mother's torn boy briefs in his hand, his pants at his feet and a blank look of disbelief on his face, it became immediately apparent to Danielle -- and the crowd at large -- why Mrs. Parnell couldn't find her leopard print La Perla micro thong earlier that day.

"William Parnell," screamed the equally mortified and flummoxed uber-MILF upon making the unsettling discovery, "are you . . . are you wearing . . . mommy's . . . panties?"

As Calum Duncan and Billy Miras doubled over in laughter at the Parnell family's continuing comeuppance, a practically shell-shocked Will Parnell, who only minutes before appeared the perfect picture of the conceited little WASP that he was, but who was now wearing one of his mother's thongs while staring slack-jawed at another -- with his mother still in it -- only inches from his face, croaked, "yes mommy . . . I mean . . . yes . . . slave . . . they're very soft," before passing out from abject humiliation.

Meanwhile, while Danielle teetered gob-smacked in her ridiculously high heels and minuscule latex panties -- with her hair in shambles, her usually perfect make-up running and her mind reeling from the realization that her life would never be the same, Billy Miras again put the laser pointer to work -- this time separating Mrs. Parnell from her very sophisticated, very fashionable, Tom Ford blouse.

As the black and white garment floated from her fit, tanned shoulders and landed, mercifully for her son Will's sake, over his recently exposed and thong encased bottom, the men of Davidson, who could no longer collectively contain themselves, broke into a round of spontaneous applause at the sight of Mrs. Parnell's pert, ample and tan-line free tits, the nipples of which looked like they could cut glass while the women continued to enjoy the haughty narcissist's unveiling.

With her hands alternating wildly between trying to cover her fabulously fit, there-for-all-to-see ass and her recently exposed, gravity defying breasts, Danielle knew it was time to go. But how . . . and where? Staring down at her feet, still trembling in their very high heels, the once supremely confident suburban alpha-mom realized that her skirt was well within reach. Unfortunately for Mrs. Parnell, Nicole Silver, who couldn't believe the rush she was getting from seeing Little Miss Perfect's meltdown, had made the self-same observation an instant earlier and, climbing over her moderator's desk to reach onto the stage with outstretched hand was able to sn*tch the black garment immediately before Danielle could reach it.

With a victorious grin on Nicole's gorgeous face, and as her gaze locked with that of her once spectacular nemesis -- the now humbled Mrs. Parnell -- whose own eyes had grown to the size of saucers as she watched her skirt get pulled from reach, Mrs. Silver mocked, "not so cool under pressure now are you . . . slave?"

Danielle was speechless. How many times before had she instinctively known exactly how to respond to this Amazonian red-head, to, with a turn of phrase slap her down, to humiliate her in front of everyone? But now . . . crouched down in only her high heels and her tiny, naughty, embarrassing latex thong . . . with more than half the town laughing at her . . . and with Nicole's degrading moniker of "slave" still resonating in her ears . . . now no words were coming to her . . . except the ones that she whispered softly to no one in particular as she fell to her hands and knees and, in only her Louboutins and thong, began crawling for dear life toward the back of the stage and hoped for escape.

"No Mistress . . ," the humbled diva said softly, "I'm not very cool now . . . not very cool at all."

[amfanon]

[QUOTE=Chasmo;2061716]I apologize in advance for an ending with which I'm still not completely satisfied. Although I may yet revise it or pen an epilogue I hope that it doesn't totally disappoint.

* * *

That was worth the wait. I think I know what you're feeling, though. Your newer stories usually end with some special final humiliation, which this seems to lack, fantastic though it is.

And, if you WERE going to write any more parts, I believe readers of this thread already know which particular red haired beauty, who happens to be gloating haughtily at this very point in the story, I might wish to come down a peg. Perhaps she attempts to stop Danielle from leaving, or exercises her newfound dominance over her, with disastrous results? Just a thought.

[hocman]

Great buildup and wonderful stripping sequence, I do understand your concern with the ending, as it does not seem to finalize Danielle's humiliation. I"d love a public spanking by one of her many rivals to add to her embarrasment, which you have done many times and it would seem to fit with Danillle need to be dominated. Also how about something along these lines. Mrs. Parnell is hated by all the woman in town, in today's day and age word and pictures of her on going stripping and humiliation quickly spreads thru town, which causes a huge crowd to gather outside in courtyard. Mrs. Parnell is marched outside, either before her spanking or having it done outside and them somehow her and her panties are hoisted up the flagpole for everyone's viewing pleasure. Please I do not mean to imply your story is not awesome, I could never come close to writing something as brilliant as this, just some of my random thoughts.