Had Norman Rockwell set out to paint a particular American town, it would have been Davidson, Maryland. Nestled along the South River, the leafy village evoked a simpler time. Davidson's homes, a mix of large but unimposing white clapboard and brick manses, often set back from its quiet tree lined streets by expansive well-manicured lawns, evidenced a quiet, kind and confident prosperity. Although its residents found themselves almost equidistant between Baltimore and Washington, D.C. -- each a mere 20 or so miles away and where many of Davidson's townsfolk worked -- the bucolic bedroom community was a mere five minute drive from Maryland's harbor front capital of Annapolis, and it was there that many of the good people of Davidson would while away their spring and summer hours. In fact, the spectacular environs of downtown Annapolis, home to the United States Naval Academy and -- long ago for a very short time -- the capital of the United States, hosted many a charitable event that relied on its coffers being filled by Davidson's affluent residents.
One of the most renowned of these, which drew participants and spectators alike from all around the Annapolis area, was Davidson's annual "PAWS for the Cause" held each year in early June. The daylong event, which raised money for local animal welfare, consisted of a host of activities including a pet washing station, doggy obstacle course, adoption fair, silent auction and -- at day's end -- a fashion parade where dog owners of all stripes and their pets would walk the "runway" together for the entertainment of the assembled throng. Like Davidson itself, and as Rockwell would have painted it, PAWS for the Cause was all-American fun -- neither showy nor brash.
The same could not be said for one of Davidson's most prominent, and arguably most attractive, residents -- Mrs. Danielle Parnell. Easing her very showy white 2014 Range Rover Sport into an available spot in downtown Annapolis -- brashly pulling in despite another driver -- Rachel Miras -- waiting patiently for the space to open -- the fetching alpha-mom prepared to drop off her three kids, their dalmatian Charlie and the Parnell family nanny, Alia, for the morning kick-off of this year's PAWS for the Cause. Stepping out into the June air, the spectacularly fit 43-year-old stunner caught the attention of every man around. As the sun glinted off the front of her mirrored aviator shades, those lucky enough to spy her were treated to the sight of her well-tanned and toned legs standing atop a pair of 4.5", yellow, peep-toe, wedge heels; her flawless ass hugged by a pair of white jean shorts that came down barely to mid-thigh -- appropriate but spectacular. A long yellow, black and white flowered scarf ran beneath the belt loops of her shorts and, up top, the fashionable Mrs. Parnell wore a very form fitting black cotton tank that emphasized nicely the swell of her ample 34C breasts as well as her tight midsection and fit arms. Danielle's shoulder length brown hair, that framed her beautiful, emerald-eyed face, blew gently in the warm summer breeze.
"Stay out of trouble you three -- and keep any eye on Charlie," the gorgeous mom directed her offspring, "and nothing inappropriate -- do you hear me."
"Yes mom," the three Parnell kids -- Will, 18, Anna 16 and Maria 14 -- echoed in chorus, "nothing inappropriate."
"Mind those attitudes," replied their mother not even half kidding, "or you'll find yourselves back home in no time." And then, to Alia, Danielle continued, "keep an eye on them will you, I'll be back later for the fashion parade -- this town won't know what hit them when they see what I've got planned."
"Of course, Mrs. Parnell," said Alia sweetly while thinking to herself that her boss certainly had no lack of ego.
As the ceaselessly sexy lawyer sashayed to the local Starbucks to grab her trademark cappuccino for the short ride home, the fantastic motion of her pert bottom became the instant focus of soccer dads, weekend warriors and mailmen alike -- and Danielle Parnell loved it. To her, the thrill of teasing men was matched by very few things. Among them was the joy she felt when, upon "catching" an unsuspecting man spying her beauty, she publicly and loudly took him to task with a, "what would your wife think of the way you're looking at me Mr. Smith," or a "how dare you, Mr. Jones." The delight the haughty uber-MILF got from calling out men, however, was dwarfed by the elation she derived from the impact their emasculation had on the chastened men's wives and girlfriends because, at the top of Danielle Parnell's list of favorite things, was the love she had for herself. In her mind, other women existed merely to confirm her own superiority -- in her presence the universe of dowdy soccer moms, overweight Zumba class attendees and stay-at-home
haus fraus
simply ceased to exist -- and they knew it -- losers.
Smiling as she thought about the lustful looks directed at her, Danielle pulled open the door to the world's most popular coffee establishment and, walking in, spied a collection of the very women she despised. Sitting at a small table sipping on their caffeine laden libations were Katherine Wray, Rachel Miras and Nicole Silver. As she raised her expensive sunglasses from the slope of her perfect nose to the top of her windblown hair, Mrs. Parnell flashed her best fake smile at her three "lesser" neighbors.
"Why good morning, Danielle," enthused the waifish Katherine Wray, "are you excited for the big day?"
The 5' 8" strawberry-blonde Mrs. Wray, an avid runner and Nashville native, whose own legs were nothing to sneeze at, offended Danielle least of the three women. In fact, the ever-confident Mrs. Parnell suspected the athletic Mrs. Wray's marriage was a mere beard and that the closeted bi-sexual Katherine harbored a secret crush on her.
"Not as excited as you are to see
me
I'm sure," Danielle offered condescendingly. As the equally titillated and humiliated Mrs. Wray blushed, the self-confident Mrs. Parnell silently added to herself with a smile, "and you can look all you want dear, but I don't swing that way and, if I did, you'd never make the cut."
With the prospect of lording over these "nobodies" coursing through her icy veins, the preening diva turned to Rachel Miras, "will you be accompanying that bull dog of yours again in the fashion show Rachel? It's just adorable how much you favor one other -- like mother and son."
The short, squat Mrs. Miras who was working harder than ever to lose some weight, seethed inwardly at the sharp barb but -- intimidated to her core by Danielle -- outwardly simply smiled stupidly. Mrs. Parnell on the other hand reveled in the cowed woman's discomfort delighting in the fact that within 10 minutes not only had she taken Rachel's parking spot but left her looking the fool.
Finally, as the handsome young male barista handed the haughty lawyer her cappuccino -- "on the house" -- Mrs. Parnell set her sights on the red-headed Nicole Silver who, like Danielle, was a lawyer in Washington, D.C.
"Will your son and that troublesome mutt of yours be performing for us again this year Nicole," Danielle provoked Mrs. Silver, referring to an unfortunate incident the year before when Louie -- the Silver family's 100 pound standard poodle -- caught wind of a squirrel as Nicole's young son Julian was walking him down the doggy fashion show runway. The poor boy, who though eighteen years old at the time still looked all of about twelve, was dragged off his feet, through a puddle of mud and out of his khaki shorts before he finally gave up the ghost and let go of the leash. Danielle of course, who had a front row seat to the unfortunate episode, was delighted by the "little nerd's" undoing and in a voice she thought to be
sotto voce
was overheard by those around her to comment to no one in particular "nice 'manties' he's wearing -- do you think he shares those with his mom?"
Both enraged and mortified by the mention of poor Jules' former misfortune, and with her voice controlled but strained, the 5'8", big-boned but by no means fat, Norwegian beauty responded, "actually Danielle, I'll be escorting Louie in tonight's charity fashion parade."
"What a relief," Danielle falsely empathized, "with someone your size on the leash any further secrets of your family's underpants -- thank God -- will likely remain unknown."
