Undressed For Success 2

SmythKnight was one of the most prestigious law firms in the United States and its glass encased office complex at the foot of Capitol Hill stood as a powerful testament to that status - the firm was a legal leviathan. On this sunny August day, a group of some fifty very high powered partners in the firm, along with their assistants and a smattering of junior associates and staff, were waiting impatiently - if not in some small amount of fear -- in the largest of the many conference rooms in SmythKnight's office. They were waiting for the law firm's managing partner - Mrs. Danielle Parnell. They were impatient because, as usual, she was late. They were fearful because she could be ruthless.

The quick paced staccato rhythm of high heels on a marble floor signaled to the room full of attorneys and others that Danielle Parnell, Esq. was near. Looking through the sheer glass wall that separated the conference room from SmythKnight's opulent lobby they could see their "boss" approaching - and what an approach it was.

Strutting authoritatively past them as she made her way to the conference room door, Mrs. Parnell looked every inch the domineering alpha female that she was. Atop her 4.5" Prada black leather heels that heralded her arrival was a set of fantastically toned athlete's legs covered from just below the knee on up by a tight, fashionable, pin-striped pencil skirt that encased the object of desire of every man who set eyes on her - a spectacularly formed ass.

On top, the sexy uber lawyer was wearing a sleeveless, perfectly pressed, crisp white cotton oxford shirt that tightly hugged the contours of her pert 34C breasts and flawless midsection and displayed her tan, well exercised arms for all to see - just as she intended. A white necklace of pearls adorned her supple neck and a simple but exquisite watch wrapped her left wrist. Her beautiful face, made even more stunning by the proper yet alluring gold rimmed glasses encircling her emerald green eyes, was crowned perfectly by her luxurious brown mane, touched by sunlit highlights, and tied up in a very professional looking bun.

Catching her reflection in the glass door as she entered the room, Mrs. Parnell took account of her own stunning beauty - perfect she thought. She smiled inwardly as she anticipated the lust that the men in the room - nominally her "partners" but in her view really just a bunch of feckless losers -- must already be feeling. Danielle loved the effect she had on men. That her beauty rendered them fools and sycophants provided her with almost as much pleasure as did -- when she would catch them staring at her wantonly - the humiliation she would heap upon them by loudly scolding, "eyes up here Johnson... you're lucky I don't fire you this minute," or "exactly what are you looking at Mr. Thomas - perhaps it's time you review our harassment policy -- again."

Dominating the weak men of SmythKnight brought Danielle untold pleasure - particularly if she could exercise her authority over them in front of their wives, girlfriends or daughters who she reveled in humiliating both by stealing the attention of their men and then emasculating those men while they watched helplessly. Perhaps if they took better care of themselves or made something of their lives their husbands' heads wouldn't be so easily turned she thought to herself.

But it wasn't only the men of SmtyhKnight who Danielle relished belittling. She likewise enjoyed intimidating the firm's female partners, associates and staff who she taunted and mocked regularly - particularly her beleaguered assistant, Linda Bertrand, a slightly portly but otherwise attractive brunette some ten years younger than the 43 year old Mrs. Parnell. And today was no different.

Walking imperiously into the conference room, Danielle's first point of business was loudly to reprimand her already quaking assistant.

"Well Ms. Bertrand, it appears as though someone got dressed in the dark again today. No matter - no one is looking at you anyway." Danielle laughed to herself "because they're all too busy looking at me - as they should be."

"As all of you know," Mrs. Parnell continued, "tomorrow is 'Take Your Kids to Work Day' here at SmythKnight. As usual, the children will be separated into different age groups and have a chance to shadow lawyers and staff, share a group lunch and otherwise participate in the day's programs. That will all be followed, after our children head home, by our annual firm reception in the atrium where your spouses and significant others can join you, and the rest of us for what this year will be dinner and a fashion show where some of SmythKnight's very own will model the latest in fashionable, appropriate, professional attire."

"Excuse me Danielle," asked Mrs. Karen Manley timidly, hoping to curry some favor with the firm's imperious leader, "but who from the firm will be modelling the clothes."

"Certainly not you Karen," Danielle condescended to her law partner. "In fact, I'm hoping that Ms. Bertrand, Ms. Butcher and you will use the fashion show as an opportunity to learn something - now get back to work."

With that, the haughty Mrs. Danielle Parnell stood up and left the meeting. Although the men in the room were too busy following Danielle's perfect posterior as it tightly swayed its way down the hall, Karen Manley wasted no time in approaching Mrs. Lauren Butcher.

"Oh I simply can't abide that woman," fumed Mrs. Manley. "Who does she think she is anyway? We're her partners not her house staff - 'certainly not you Karen' - just once I'd like her to be on the receiving end."

Mrs. Lauren Butcher, another of SmythKnight's female partners, was equally infuriated. The nearly six foot blonde, who had always been conscious of her height, and as a result ended up looking as if she was slightly slouched over, could barely conceal her contempt for the preening Mrs. Parnell.

"No kidding. I know what she calls me behind my back - "lurch," "prairie hair" - it makes me want to slap that smug grin right off her perfectly made up face. But I need this job and so do you and as long as the partnership agreement permits her to fire us at will - until she either retires or quits -- there is nothing we can do."

Overhearing their conversation, and having finally been pushed too far by her boss' incessant derision, Ms. Linda Bertrand interrupted them with a conspiratorial, "maybe this time there is!"

The next morning, having showered, dried her hair and perfectly applied her make-up, Mrs. Danielle Parnell slipped into the tiniest navy blue, sheer, silk Cosabella thong, a matching push-up bra and 4.5" blue leather Manolo Blahnik heels. Walking from her monumental marble bathroom into an equally cavernous dressing area, the self-obsessed mother of three could not help but drink in her own vision in the mirror. Placing her hand over her mouth in mock embarrassment, the egoistic lawyer fantasized out loud, "why Mr. Sarano, you've caught me indisposed." With her standard smug look returning to her face, and chiding herself inwardly for her impetuousness, Danielle mockingly laughed "you wish."

Jerry Sarano was also a partner at SmythKnight. The almost 50 year old perennially fit triathlete had the body of a man thirty years younger. As intelligent as he was trim, Sarano was also an impeccable dresser routinely sporting only the most cutting edge, tight-fitting European suits and accessories. Still single, he was rumored at SmythKnight to be both a ladies man and extraordinarily well-endowed. Unfortunately, not unlike the firm's leader, Mr. Sarano was all too aware of his physical gifts, both actual and rumored. He looked down upon all those around him save for Danielle to whom he obsequiously kowtowed. Sarano was the closest thing to a friend that Mrs. Parnell had at the office and it was with him that she would share her most withering comments about the likes of Lauren "Lurch" Butcher and others. Together they privately mocked just about everyone else at the firm making fun of their "lack of fitness," "terrible fashion sense," "slovenly demeanor," "awful haircuts" and "inferior intelligence." The two were almost equally loathed and although not true, there was an unspoken belief that they were having an affair.

Having had her fun for the morning, Danielle dressed herself in a black Prada pant suit, the slacks fitting her perfect ass like a glove and the bolero jacket, worn with nothing but her push-up bra underneath, tightly encasing her spectacular 34C breasts and otherwise toned upper body. She planned to spend the workday in this outfit before changing - multiple times - into the outfits she would be modelling at the evening's fashion show, all of which her witless secretary, Linda Bertrand, was to pick up at the tailors' and deliver to her office. Mrs. Parnell, of course, would be the only woman modelling that evening. At her request, Mr. Jerry Sarano would be modelling for the men. Having prepared herself for the day, Danielle headed into the office to welcome the offspring of SmythKnight's finest.

Meanwhile, having picked up her boss' many outfits from the tailors', Linda Bertrand was ready to get "to work." Aware that Danielle was welcoming the kids in a firm conference room on another floor, Ms. Bertrand knew she had less than an hour before her boss returned. Walking into the opulent office of "Mrs. Danielle Parnell, Esquire," Linda marched past the six seat private conference table and the large mahogany desk and into Danielle's private anteroom which, with its own hardwood floors, large Oriental rug, private bath, wardrobe, large leather couch, floor to ceiling bookshelves and fully stocked bar was as much a clubby living room as anything else. The room was usually locked but having instructed Linda to deliver her clothes there, Danielle had left it open.

On one wall, framed by mahogany bookshelves on either side, hung a full length mirror that her snobby boss no doubt used to admire herself. It was in this room that Danielle would be changing from one outfit to another for the evening's show. As Linda fished the small scissors from her pocket and pulled the plastic off the cocktail dress labeled "grand finale" she thought to herself, "and what a show it's going to be."

While Mrs. Parnell's secretary continued to make her "alterations," including just for fun weakening all the seams on the fancy three piece suit and shirt that she still needed to deliver to Mr. Jerry Sarano's office, Linda spied what looked like a camera hidden in the bookshelf facing the mirror.

"Oh no," she panicked, "my crazy boss must keep this room monitored... I'm going to get caught for sure, and fired."

Thinking quickly, Linda hurried out to Danielle's main office and dialed up SmythKnight's IT manager, Catherine Webb. Like Linda, Mrs. Webb had many times suffered the wrath of the firm's tyrannical managing partner and it was that fact that guided what she did next. Although logic demanded that Catherine immediately report Linda Bertrand to SmythKnight's security team for not only snooping around the managing partner's office but for asking Catherine to delete any record of it, her sympathy for Linda's daily plight dictated otherwise. First, Catherine eased Linda's anxiety by assuring her that the camera was not recording anything while Linda was in the room because it was only activated when Danielle logged into the system and she hadn't yet been to her office. Second, and without telling Linda or anyone else, Catherine used her authority as network administrator to remotely take over control of the camera.

"Who knows," she thought to herself, "maybe I can catch Miss High and Mighty drinking at the office -- or breaking one of her many rules and regulations regarding 'appropriateness' -- and leverage it into a few extra bucks." Although she knew she'd never really do such a thing, the mere idea of spying on the arrogant Mrs. Parnell provided Catherine with no small amount of satisfaction.

With that, "Take Your Kids to Work Day" marched on as planned. Over a hundred children, to learn what their moms and dads did all day, followed lawyers and staff members through their paces, attended a fun "kids only" lunch, listened to any number of professionals drone on about their jobs and finally took part in a kids' mock trial where they got to play the parts of lawyers, judges, witnesses and bailiffs. As 5:00 PM finally rolled around, the children of SmythKnight's workforce boarded a private bus provided by the firm to take them home and each parent who worked at SmythKnight was joined by his or her spouse or significant other to attend the firm dinner and fashion show.

In the meantime, Mrs. Danielle Parnell was busy changing into her first outfit of the evening. Locking the door to her anteroom from the inside she slipped out of her Prada pant suit and, facing the mirror, indulged in her favorite pastime - taking in her own glorious body. She loved that she was changing at the office -- that as her dumpy female colleagues and the

haus frau

wives of SmythKnight's male population stuffed their fat faces with whatever rubber chicken was being served at the dinner, she was preparing, with her beauty, intelligence and authority, to render them invisible by stealing the attention of all men in attendance.

Catherine Webb cursed her luck. Not having kids, she had no plans to stay for the dinner and fashion show. Although the finale of the show was to be preceded by a short film that was made of the day's activities, one of Catherine's assistants would take care of it thereby permitting the over-worked Mrs. Webb to beat an early retreat from work. That said, she had forgotten her keys again and needed to get back to her office to retrieve them.

Having donned her first outfit, Danielle preceded to the dais that had been set up in SmythKnight's large glass atrium, to welcome everyone to the show and to explain that she would be modelling three different outfits for the evening, including the lovely A-line dress she had on now, a pinstripe skirt-suit and, for the finale, a little black cocktail dress that was "work appropriate" to show how professional women could maintain poise and class after hours as well. While she changed, Mr. Jerry Sarano would be showing a collection of watches, brief cases and other accessories for men.

Sitting next to Danielle on the dais were two of her own three kids - 19-year-old son Will and 18-year-old Anna. Having been dropped off earlier in the day, the two older Parnell children along with their 16-year-old sister Maria had, albeit reluctantly, taken in part in the program along with everyone else's children. Alas, apart from young Maria, the Parnell children were required by their domineering mother not only to attend the firm dinner and fashion show but to join Danielle to "see mommy work it at work," as the arrogant MILF had told them with a wink. Will, the classic momma's boy, was more than proud to join his mother for the fête while Anna wished that, just once, her show-off of a mom and that leering Mr. Jerry, who was seated next to her, would get theirs. A podium separated the five of them on one side from a small group of the firm's lawyers and staff on the other. Among that group sat Karen Manley, Lauren Butcher and Linda Bertrand. In the audience sat the four hundred or so people who made up the lawyers and staff of SmythKnight and their families.

With soft music playing, and knowing that every man was now transfixed by her beauty, Mrs. Danielle Parnell began her long walk down the runway that extended from the dais. She could feel the attention she was getting from the men and loved it. She loved more that despite any effort the other women in the room might make, they were rendered irrelevant by her beauty. As she turned on her 4.5" heels to walk back - and with an extra sway in her hips and a completely false smile on her otherwise beautiful face - she mouthed to Linda, Karen and Lauren - "you should be taking notes." Amused by her cutting barb, and feeling better than ever, Danielle slipped through the curtain at the back of the stage and made her way to her office to change.

Grabbing the forgotten keys from her desk, Catherine Webb paused for a brief second.

"I wonder if she's in there," Catherine thought, "what the heck... let's take a look."

With that Mrs. Webb fired up her computer and double-clicked on the file labeled "DMPPO" - Danielle Marie Parnell Private Office. In an instant, Catherine was looking at a live, high resolution, color picture of Mrs. Parnell's anteroom - but no one was there. "Oh well," she thought, "maybe next time." But as she was about to disconnect and head home she saw, and heard, someone come into the room. Having not tried the camera before, Catherine was surprised that it had audio capability. What she saw and heard next was an even bigger surprise.

"You looked perfect out there," Danielle preened at the mirror. "Those men couldn't take their eyes off you and their fat wives couldn't do a thing about it. Wait until the finale - the horny losers won't even be able to stand up to leave and that assemblage of cows will want to kill themselves."

With those words uttered, the haughty

prima donna

slipped out of her A-line dress and proceeded to pose in front of the mirror in her tiny blue thong, sheer push up bra and towering heels. Turning to the side she bent over at the waist and drank in the site of her own flawless ass. Standing again she cupped her barely bra encased breasts together and then, releasing them, blew herself a kiss.

Catherine was both dumbfounded and thrilled. Dumbfounded that the little tease - who walked around as the standard bearer for "appropriateness" - would behave like this at the office and thrilled that she had it recorded. She decided at that point to tell her assistant to take off for the night; Catherine would prepare the short film for the fashion show finale on her own.

Having changed into her pinstripe power suit, not dissimilar to the one she had worn to work the previous day, Mrs. Parnell returned to the stage again as Jerry Sarano, having a moment before shushed Anna Parnell with the admonition to "hold your tongue lest you embarrass your mother," stood at the podium to announce Danielle's arrival.

"Wearing what can only be described as the perfect power suit," the obsequious Sarano began, "I present to you our partner, friend, leader and hallmark of authority, Mrs. Danielle Parnell."

Once again, to the sound of hearty applause from the men and tepid, forced clapping from the women, Danielle strutted down the runway. As she surveyed the crowd she could tell that every male there was beside himself with desire.

"What a bunch of pathetic fools," she thought to herself, "no wonder they're so easily manipulated. And the women - they should just give it up."

After turning at the end of the runway, Danielle sashayed back towards the podium and again slipped through the curtain to change into her final outfit of the night - her show stopper, the LBD that would have them all drooling. As the self-satisfied Mrs. Parnell disappeared through the curtain, Karen Manley could barely contain her rage.

"Can you believe that woman - she is clearly just here to show off. She prances up and down that runway smiling at our husbands and sons while sneering at all of us. She really needs to be taken down a peg or two."

"I can't stand her," chimed in Lauren Butcher. "Always putting us down, humiliating the men with her "that's highly inappropriate" nonsense. How is it appropriate for her to parade herself in front of everyone anyway? Just because she covers herself in her tight power outfits doesn't make her any less of a tease. Linda - are you sure this 'surprise' of yours is really going to work."

"I'm pretty certain you'll love the finale," smiled Mrs. Linda Bertrand.