The High Cost of Admission

"Gather round you two," Danielle Marie Parnell called to her teenage daughters Maria and Anna, the former a freshman and the latter an 18-year old rising senior at the prestigious Archbishop Spaulding High School just north of Annapolis, Maryland, "your brother's acceptance from Harvard - mommy's own alma mater - is only one click away and I want you to see what it means to succeed in life."

"Yeah losers," chimed in Will Parnell, Danielle's oldest son, and also a high school senior and rower at Gonzaga College High School in Washington, D.C., "gather round for the unveiling."

Although Anna Parnell knew that disobeying her mother was never worth the cost, she was sick of the way that Danielle fawned over her and Maria's brother. How was it even possible that he had the audacity to

apply

to Harvard? With his middling grades and middle-of-the pack crew team performance their mother should have been concerned about him getting into a strong community college. Instead, Danielle seemed almost metaphysically confident about the outcome - it made no sense. And yet, as Anna and Maria watched, their arrogant brother clicked on the waiting crimson icon at the harvard.edu site only to unbelievably cause a letter to open on the screen that read, "Dear William Parnell... we are pleased to invite you to join the Harvard Class of 2027."

"Nothing to it," proclaimed the smug senior, "it was in the bag along. Looks like we'll have another Harvard grad in the family right mom."

As his mother beamed with pride and no small hint of hubris, and after hugging her preening son, she turned to her two daughters stoically.

"Let this be a lesson for you two," she chided, "hard work and a dedication to athletic prowess are key to following in your brother's footsteps."

With straight A's and a spot as a freshman on each of the women's varsity field hockey and lacrosse teams, Maria Parnell escaped what came next.

"And Anna, perhaps if you stopped dressing like a boy, improved that posture of yours and cut out all of this computer gaming nonsense, you could still salvage a similar outcome for yourself," Mrs. Parnell practically scoffed. "And it wouldn't kill you to get exposed to some sunlight either young lady."

Anna Parnell was incredulous. She was the single most capable programmer in her school, having won countless awards for creating white hat hacking algorithms since she was in junior high. What's more, she was carrying a full load of AP classes with a 4.25 GPA and was the Vice President of the National Honor Society. Notwithstanding those accolades, she always kept her ego in check, volunteered at the local hospital, was a member and co-captain of the equestrian team and still was concerned she didn't have what it took for admission into the likes of Harvard or Yale. Finally, as for her dress code, the mere fact that she did not follow in her mother's 5" high-heeled footsteps did not suggest for a moment that she dressed like a boy.

How in God's name had her half-witted bully of a brother gotten in, she asked herself again. And why did her imperious mother see it as anything but a foregone conclusion.

** *

The news of the college admissions scandal had rocked the entire nation. A host of wealthy parents, including titans of industry, Silicon Valley billionaires and even celebrities, had been caught in a sting operation by the FBI for funneling in some cases millions of dollars through a nee'r-do-well con man who in turn was bribing coaches and other officials at some of America's top universities to unfairly advantage their children. As the "ninety-nine percent" smiled, some of the nation's "one percenters" were being humiliated on a very public stage for their unbridled hubris.

The malfeasance, however, wasn't limited to Hollywood, Wall Street and San Francisco Bay area parents. No, the alleged fraudsters came from all over the country including, in the case of Nicole Yanika Silver, from the Parnell family's home town of Davidsonville. And it was that news that had put a bright smile on Danielle's gorgeous emerald-eyed face as she click-clacked her way down the marble halls of the Davidsonville Municipal Courthouse.

As the Managing Partner of the Washington, D.C. based International legal leviathan SmythKnight, Danielle was prominently known nationwide for her legal prowess. That reputation likewise permitted her to give back to the Davidsonville community by serving, from time to time and on a pro bono basis, as a judge on Davidsonville's municipal court. Ordinarily, the cases presented the humdrum issues faced by any affluent community - ordinance violations, minor traffic infractions and the here and there of other small claims. Today, however, was different. Today Mrs. Nicole Silver - another powerful Washington, DC lawyer and Gonzaga mom, who in Danielle's view always desperately wanted to best her but never even came close - would be appearing before

Judge

Danielle Marie Parnell on charges related to the national scandal

de jour

- and Danielle loved it.

What she also loved was that the opulent marble courthouse - usually as sleepy as the inside of the Taj Mahal - was packed. From local to national media - from curious onlookers to outraged activists -- men and women young and old had come to see the latest chapter of the quickly unfolding national calamity. Veritably strutting down the corridor to her chambers past this waiting throng, Danielle felt literally thousands of eyes upon her - and she absorbed it like the sun. Dressed in a tight-fitting black pin-striped Prada suit - the skirt of which hugged her fabulously exercised ass like a glove and the bolero jacket of which plunged down in front to make clear, albeit covered by a soft white camisole, that Danielle's ample breasts were truly spectacular. Danielle prowled the courthouse main hall like a runway model. Her 5" black suede Louboutin pumps profiled her spectacular calves marvelously and her pearl necklace, serious updo, natural hued make-up, cat-eye glasses and soft pink lipstick rounded out every man's fantasy of a female alpha lawyer.

Of course, despite every male within eye shot being unable to take his eyes off her, Danielle showed them only disdain. In fact, looking down upon the pathetic members of the opposite sex - at times even chiding them with an "eyes up here counselor," or a "your wife is right there, Mr. Duncan," was like a drug to Danielle. Leaving men hard and humiliated gave her a singular rush; one that was only matched, if not exceeded, by how the unchecked lust of her male onlookers brought even more shame and humiliation upon their unworthy wives, girlfriends, and mothers. You men all want to see me and your wives all want to be me she would repeat to herself in an almost constant refrain.

Today, however, was better yet for the diva of Davidsonville. Today Danielle was going to - in front of her own community and the nation - imperiously look down upon a woman who dared think she was Mrs. Parnell's equal. Nicole Silver, an incredibly fit but Rubenesque 5'7" red-head who was likewise a Washington lawyer and who, with a son only a year ahead of Will at Gonzaga, had butted heads with Mrs. Parnell since they first met as members of the Gonzaga Mothers' Guild. For their part, Gonzaga's all-male student body lusted almost equally after the two sexy MILFs who were always attempting to out-do one another amidst their hormone charged observances. Their rivalry likewise fueled the fantasies of the school's male teachers and fathers and drew the considerable unspoken ire of the female staff and the Mothers' Guild's other members. But whatever hubris the gorgeous Mrs. Silver may previously have had was no place in sight as she was escorted into the courthouse this day.

Unlike Felicity Huffman whose introduction to the discovery of her crimes came via a dawn raid with ten or more FBI agents, guns drawn, arresting her at her home, Mrs. Silver was permitted by Emily Duncan, the local DA and another Gonzaga mom, to turn herself in this morning at the courthouse to face her indictment and bond hearing. So it was that the statuesque Nicole, in sky high black heels, a form fitting mid-calf black skirt and a tight but conservative white cotton blouse, made her way down the same hall that Danielle had traversed mere moments before. With her gorgeous red mane in a tight professional bun, large aviator sunglasses hid the mortified look in Nicole's eyes.

"This just won't do Emily," Danielle said to the DA as they chatted in her chambers.

"Despite our acquaintance with Nicole - in fact because of it," the judge went on with false concern, "we cannot have her sitting there in her Sunday best. She must be made an example of. After all, she is about to be charged with a felony."

"But Danielle..," Emily began.

"It's

your honor

please Mrs. Duncan," the imperious Judge Parnell interrupted, loving the bonus of demeaning Emily Duncan that she always enjoyed when serving on the court.

"But your honor," Emily went on wishing just for once she could smack Danielle in her smug face, "it seems a bit much to have Nicole put into a jump suit just for the bail hearing don't you agree? Hasn't she been humiliated enough by all the attention this is getting?"

"Whatever humiliation she is suffering - which in my personal view can never be enough in light of the impact of her unbridled arrogance on those deserving students who were deprived of a Harvard education - she has heaped upon herself."

"In fact," Danielle continued, "why don't you have that bottle-blond officer Heilkamp - who could use a bit more fitness in my view - make sure that once Nicole has been strip searched and put into a jumpsuit she also be put in cuffs and leg-irons before being brought into my courtroom. After all, the entire nation is watching and I have an obligation to average, every day Americans to show them that these privileged provocateurs of justice are treated no differently than would they be treated."

"But your..." Emily began again.

"You seem to be under the misimpression that I'm

asking

you Emily," Danielle cut her off, "now just do what you're told and close the door on your way out."

As Emily Duncan walked out - more angry than ever at the dominating tease that had once again humiliated her but terrified to do anything about it - Danielle smiled like the Cheshire Cat. She generally despised average, every day Americans who she often referred to as "the great unwashed," but to throw them in the face of that ultra-liberal Emily Duncan, all in the service of humiliating Nicole Silver, brought her almost unparalleled joy.

The forty-five minutes that next passed in Danielle Parnell's courtroom were as horrifying for Nicole Silver as they were a virtual delight for Judge Parnell. Having been stripped of her sexy professional armor - heels, skirt, blouse, sunglasses and updo - and put on display like a common criminal in white sneakers and an ill- fitting green jump suit with hair cascading willy-nilly down her back and all make-up removed - Nicole Silver was beaten event before Danielle relentlessly upbraided her.

"In conclusion - Mrs. Silver - you have shown to your community and your nation the ugly face of hubris by elevating your privileged C student son above those hard working children deserving of his spot. What's more - you devalued the education of every student in or about to attend Harvard - like my own son - whose efforts and education will forever be tainted by this scandal. Shame on you madam - shame on you. Your bail is set at one million dollars."

* * *

Anna Parnell knew she had to work fast. There wasn't much time between her mother's expected return from the courthouse - where she was overseeing Jules' mother's indictment - and the annual Gonzaga Crew Team formal at which her mother was scheduled to be the keynote speaker. This entire admissions scandal had awakened in young Anna the need to discover, or at least attempt to discover, how it was that Jules Silver - a better student and rower than own her brother - was only able to get into Harvard via an illegal bribe paid by his mom, while Will seemingly was accepted on his supposed merits. Something was not right in the State of Maryland!

Although she knew the consequences of getting caught were unthinkable, Anna Parnell also knew that the only way to get the answers she sought was to hack into her mother's personal computer. Whatever evidence existed, if any, as to how Will managed to get into Harvard, had to reside on Danielle Marie Parnell's hard drive. What Anna soon found - after one of her encryption breaking algorithms revealed her mother's password to be "willshotmom" would, at least in the cozy community of Davidsonville, make Nicole Silver's bribery seem like the height of motherly morality.

Walking into the National Museum for Women in the Arts - a classic Revival Style masterpiece of marble in downtown DC that billed itself as "the only major museum in the world solely dedicated to celebrating women's achievements in the visual, performing, and literary arts" - Danielle Marie Parnell felt triumphant. She reveled in the fact that she had used her connections and wiles to have a shrine to women be the location for the all-boys Gonzaga College High School Crew Team formal. The unworthy men and senior boys of the school - all of whom lusted after her as did every other man - didn't begin to appreciate the irony - the losers. What's more, any of their pathetic mothers, wives and girlfriends who may have appreciated it saw Danielle's clever tactic as a "win for the sisterhood," or some other hair-brained feminist misconception. As if Mrs. Parnell would ever consider them her equals - it was pathetic.

As the lovely lawyer made one of her patented grand entrances, men's heads turned, necks snapped and pants tented - she was a vision. Dressed in a deep royal purple Elie Saab evening gown, with a backless sequin halter top and a thigh split, chiffon floor length skirt, Danielle was worthy of the red carpets of Cannes and LA. With a body better than most women half her age, the 50-year-old stunner's sculpted back and arms, made tan by a recent trip to the Turks and Caicos, were magnificent. Each step she took in her 5.5" stiletto-heeled purple and gold Jimmy Choo Karlotta 100 peep-toe pumps, covered in a rich brocade fabric with a slim golden strap encircling each of her perfect ankles and a decorative bow profiling the magnificently pedicured toes of each of her feet, exposed and profiled the musculature of each of her magnificent thighs.

And the view did not go unnoticed. In addition to every adult male at the gala, the twenty or so fit 18-year-old seniors who populated the crew team had eyes for no one else once Danielle appeared and - although she glared at them imperiously, showing not a hint of reciprocation -- she loved it. Despite it otherwise being a black-tie affair, the members of the Gonzaga team including Will, were dressed in white buck shoes, with white knee socks, white Bermuda shorts, white cotton oxfords with a royal purple tie and royal purple blazers with the Gonzaga crest embroidered in white on the front breast pocket.

Those same young men would be sitting alongside Danielle on the raised dais from which she would give her key note speech. Situated between the two descending marble staircases on each side of the museum's great hall, the dais was awash in the royal purple glow of Gonzaga's famous colors. Behind the long table, bedecked with purple and white orchids, a large purple curtain hid what Mrs. Parnell was there to unveil - a brand new racing shell for the national championship senior boys' heavyweight eights to use at the upcoming Royal Henley Regatta in England. Off to each side were two big screens on which a revolving photo montage of the team's stellar season was now showing and to which Danielle would refer during her speech.

As the crowd of parents, local luminaries, college scouts and others made their way into the lovely affair, and as a jazz band played and hors d'oeuvres were passed, Danielle Marie Parnell drunk in both the adulation of the throng's male attendees and the self-satisfaction of a day on which she had seen her baby boy admitted to Harvard, publicly vanquished and humiliated her red-headed nemesis and set the stage for what would be her magnificent unveiling of the crew team's finest boat yet. Little was she aware of what else would soon by unveiled.

* * *

Anna Parnell originally had cursed herself for letting her mother browbeat her into running the audio-visual equipment for Will's stupid crew dinner. She wasn't getting paid, neither she nor any girl had ever attended Gonzaga, the school had its own AV department and - worst of all - it was going to ruin a Friday night. But that hadn't mattered to her mother who, as usual, bent all to her will through an alchemy of intimidation, wiles and plain old bossiness. Now, however, all that had changed and Anna was eager to make sure that her arrogant mother and brother got the public "display" they so richly deserved. The only real question was how exactly to put her plan into effect.

"Well it's about time," were the first words the eldest Parnell daughter heard as she made her way into the museum's opulent cocktail hour, "where have you been? Thank goodness your brother was able to get the photo montage going or you would have embarrassed the two of us even further."

"I'm sorry mom...," Anna began.

"You most certainly

are

Anna," her mother interrupted sharply, "and that's something that we're going to need to address. For now I'm less interested in your hollow apologies than I am you making sure the evening's presentation goes off without a hitch. Now get to it young lady... chop, chop."

As Danielle abruptly turned away on her designer high heels, and the train of her ludicrously expensive chiffon gown brushed across her daughter's sensible, flat, rubber soled shoes and black jeans - that she had instructed Anna to wear so as not to have one of the "tech crew" steal any attention from herself and the other honorees - Anna was finally freed from any sense of guilt or remorse for what she was about to do. Whatever it was that her mother had coming - she most certainly deserved it.

* * *

Terrance Matthew Sarano felt equal parts nervous and ridiculous as he made his way into the National Museum of Women in the Arts for the annual Gonzaga Crew Team formal. Despite all of the other adult males being in black tie, he had been "summoned" to appear dressed in the same apparel as the Gonzaga crew team - and he was in no position to resist. Sarano had been invited to the gala in the first place for two reasons. One was a matter of legacy insofar as the incredibly fit 55-year-old was a Gonzaga alumnus who had led the team to both the 1983 and 1984 high school national championship titles. The second was more practical because, after many years as a partner at SmythKnight, the vaunted international law firm run by none other than Mrs. Danielle Marie Parnell, Mr. Sarano had recently been named the General Counsel of Harvard University. Gonzaga had invited him back in that capacity to celebrate the bond between the two schools as evidenced this evening by the recent admission of Will Parnell and a number of other seniors to esteemed university.

The usually suave and fashionable Sarano's summons to dress as a boy, however, came not as a requirement in his formal invitation, but rather as a "demand" from his former partner-qua-boss who took no small amount of joy upon seeing her one-time colleague turned out in what must have been his own high school senior formal suit.

"Why don't you look just dashing, Mr. Sarano," the comely counselor teased, "although by the looks of your shorts you might want to avoid bending over... or getting too excited."