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, 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 on the 18-year-old Will. 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
