Pride Goeth Before Her Clothes Fall

Like many an affluent American town, Davidsonville, Maryland was home to a thriving youth athletic culture. The tony burb, almost equidistant between Baltimore and Washington, D.C., was awash in a sea of well-kept lacrosse, field hockey, soccer, football and baseball fields where privileged children from ages 3 through 18 gained not only the skills necessary to compete in sport but the lessons learned through teamwork and collaboration. No matter their age, when Davidsonville's kids slipped into their green and silver uniforms and squared off against teams from nearby communities, they were all known as "The Gators," a fact amplified by the smiling reptilian mascot, Allie, that adorned jerseys, swimsuits and helmets throughout the town.

In the chill of winter, when the emerald lawns that showcased spring, summer and fall sports turned brown, many of Davidsonville's youthful residents turned to basketball - "Gators' Hoops" as it were. What's more, the relative lull of a single sport season prompted Davidsonville parents to focus on the annual fundraising drive for the seemingly endless Gator athletic programs. From planning car washes to selling cookies -- and this year smoke detectors -- these helicopter parents outside their nation's capital spared no amount of creativity or expense to help ensure the quality of Gator sports.

It was the confluence of these two activities - basketball and filling the Gators' coffers - that had brought one of those parents, Danielle Marie Parnell, to attend a "planning session" hosted by an army of parent-coaches, boosters and spectators and, in short, the entire idea of the meeting - particularly its attendees - disgusted her. As she made her way down the airy, well lit center hallway of the modern Davidsonville Community Center building, the stunningly gorgeous 43-year-old mother of three caused the necks of fathers and teachers alike to swivel to the point of snapping while simultaneously sending blood on a one way trip to their trousers.

With a little extra sway in her spectacular hips the stunning lawyer reveled in the power she had over men -- the pathetic losers. What was more enjoyable to her even than the ability to reduce any man to a pool of drooling idiocy was to catch him in the act of staring and, in the midst of his humiliation, loudly and publicly chide him for his behavior. The coup de grace though was to do so in front of his wife or girlfriend because that act of castigation not only neutered the man but utterly humiliated his mate by amplifying her irrelevance in Danielle's presence. She loved that most of all.

On this day, Danielle's 5" black, calfskin leather Manolo Blahnik high heel boots, into which were tucked a pair of skintight Dolce & Gabanna jeans, profiled one of her most magnificent qualities -- a fit and fabulous ass. A black leather belt fastened by a large gold D&G buckle snaked through the loops atop her designer denim. From the waist up, the sexy uber-MILF was encased in a form-fitting black cotton turtle-neck sweater that profiled her toned midsection and left no imagination in respect of the fitness of her arms or the size and pertness of her ample breasts.

Over the fashionable sweater, Mrs. Parnell sported a white lynx fur vest that oozed high-end fashion and emphasized to all onlookers her sartorial sophistication. Danielle's beautiful face, a cross between Miranda Kerr and Keri Russell, was made up to perfection with her emerald eyes set off by a natural blush and her perfectly formed lips glossed in fire engine red splendor. Around her supple neck hung a very long black, grey, and white pearl necklace. Large golden hoop earrings dangled from a pair of exquisitely shaped ears covered in large part by her perfectly blown out mane of brown hair.

She was a vision -- and she knew it. But she was also on the warpath. Her 16-year-old daughter Anna and 18-year-old son Will had informed her a mere day before that, starting with this year's basketball season, Gator sports teams would have their own cheerleaders. What's more, Anna -- green and silver pom-poms in hand -- had announced to her mother that she'd be trying out for the very squad that would spend the winter months cheering on Will's hapless team.

Her mother was having none of it. It was bad enough that to raise funds for this year's basketball uniforms Will's team was going door to door in the community selling smoke detectors provided by Duncan's Hardware -- a longtime Davidsonville institution now owned by Emma Duncan -- the town's witless district attorney -- and her idiot husband Callum, Sr.

"Smoke detectors," Danielle had thought upon hearing the news from Will, "completely ridiculous. I'm sure that fat cow Emma Duncan is behind this; always trying to control this community nonsense to benefit that two-bit hardware store. Too bad she can't control her waistline"

The imperious Mrs. Parnell was irked even further by the fact that parents weren't permitted to buy from their own sons and that as part of the sale each boy was also required to install at least one of the devices he sold. That brilliant plan was hatched to ensure that the boys would build character by going through their paces and knocking on neighborhood doors. Of course, what inevitably transpired as a result was that one player's parents ended up buying at least one smoke detector from another boy on the team. In the case of the Parnells that boy was Callum Duncan, Jr., Emma's son and in Danielle's view an arrogant little jerk that despite her best efforts -- and his constantly mocking Will -- remained the young Parnell boy's friend if not idol.

Stomaching the pubescent, hormone charged Callum Duncan in her home was one thing. Mrs. Parnell needed to replace a smoke detector that had otherwise run its course in the small foyer between her sumptuous master bath and cavernous walk-in-closet and this was as good an excuse as any. But this cheer-leading idea was a bridge too far.

* * *

"You'll be doing no such thing Missy," the domineering mother had responded to her daughter's announcement, "this family is not in the business of objectifying young women. The entire idea of a 16-year-old cheer squad is inappropriate."

"But mom," pleaded Anna, "all my friends are doing it. I'll be totally left out . . . and embarrassed."

"All of your friends . . . Well, we'll just see about that. When I'm finished with the brain trust that came up with this ridiculous plan you can rest assured that there will be no squad."

"Mom . . . don't," came the chorus of cries from Will and Anna.

Young Will was very accustomed to his high-powered mother getting involved in his and his siblings' activities, be they scouts, sports, school or otherwise. And it certainly never ended well for Will who would inevitably wind up the butt of his friends jokes. He not only had to bear the endless taunts of "Mama's boy" but also the whisper campaign about his bossy MILF of a mom that had taken off since his friends began to reach puberty. Unbeknownst to Will, the architect of that campaign was none other than his "friend" Callum.

"Please mom," Will implored, "just this once could you not humiliate us."

"That's enough out of you young man. If you want to play basketball at all this season you'll hold your tongue. And as for humiliating anyone . . . well . . . the only people who are going to be humiliated are those irresponsible parents who thought this was an acceptable idea. While I'd rather not waste my evening tomorrow at the annual 'Gators' Planning Meeting,' it's clear that someone needs to rein this in."

* * *

Every head turned as Mrs. Parnell powerfully pushed open the doors of the Davidsonville Community Center's main meeting room. Not surprisingly, and to the great delight of the preening diva, every man and boy present immediately abandoned what he was doing to gaze upon her beauty. The Gator moms in the meantime simultaneously stared daggers at the woman who they all viewed as both a trouble maker and a tease. Sensing the lust of the men and the enmity of the women only stoked further the fire of Danielle's self-obsession. As she disdainfully looked around the room at the gathered soccer moms, den mothers and assorted other haus fraus, Danielle Marie Parnell smiled inwardly thinking to herself, "don't worry ladies, I'm not here to steal your pathetic khaki wearing husbands . . . as if any of them would ever be worthy of me . . . I'm simply trying to bring some propriety back to the town I'm forced to share with you."

The self-satisfied diva's musings were interrupted by the dulcet tones of Katherine Wray's Nashville drawl.

"What brings you here tonight Danielle," the willowy Mrs. Wray asked sweetly.

The 5'9" Katherine Wray, an avowed and in college nationally ranked runner, had an ass and set of legs that would rival those of the most celebrated super model and that certainly caught the attention of Davidsonville's male population. That said, and despite the appearance of domestic bliss and tranquility presented by Mrs. Wray's happy marriage and two young sons, it was suspected around Davidsonville that the sultry southerner had an eye for ladies and, in many a private moment in the tub, Katherine confirmed that impression with wanton thoughts of Mrs. Parnell.

As she prepared to answer Katherine, Mrs. Parnell glanced dismissively at the attractive runner as well at those other "moms" who surrounded her -- namely Rachel Miras, the local PTA President and town busybody, Nicole Silver, like Danielle a Washington, DC lawyer but in Mrs. Parnell's mind -- when compared to the managing partner of SmythKnight (namely, Danielle herself)-- a pathetic wanna' be at best, and Emma Duncan, the hardware store owning Davidsonville District Attorney who on more than one occasion Danielle had enjoyed humiliating in the courtroom either in her role as a rotating judge on the Davidsonville local circuit or as pro bono counsel in some local yokel case. Consistent with her view of the rest of the mom-jean wearing cast of misfits at this meeting, Danielle found these particular women to be tiresome and pathetic.

"Why hello there Katherine," Danielle responded with a forced smile, appreciating that the poor confused woman was infatuated with her but similarly certain, even if Danielle leaned in that direction, that Mrs. Wray would never make the cut. "It seems I'm here to attempt to realign the moral compass of our community where parents think it's appropriate for 16 year old girls to be cheerleaders for recreational sports."

As Katherine Wray imagined what Danielle would look like in a cheerleader's outfit, or less, Rachel Miras interjected, "having the girls be cheerleaders is just another way to build their self-esteem, Mrs. Parnell. It's very empowering."

"And is that based on your personal experience Rachel," responded Danielle condescendingly, "I think we both know the answer to that question."

And then, without missing a beat or even attempting to hide her disdain, Mrs. Parnell -- now directing her comments collectively to Rachel Miras, Nicole Silver, Katherine Wray and Emma Duncan -- continued, "unlike the rest of you, I know firsthand the benefits of cheer leading having captained squads both in high school and at Harvard. The issue here is not whether cheer leading has its merits but whether it's appropriate for tenth graders to be cheering for a youth rec league -- and the answer is no."

"For the record, Danielle," began Nicole Silver, a stunning 5'8" fit but Rubenesque redhead who also fueled the libidos of many a Davidsonville male, "I was a high school cheerleader myself so . . ."

But before Mrs. Silver was able to utter her next word, the preening Mrs. Parnell sharply interjected, "having a big girl at the bottom of the pyramid is a necessary evil Nicole. I wouldn't go so far to call that cheer leading. In any event, before I get stuck at this circus for the duration I'm going to have a word with Dr. Bloom that will end this idea before it takes root."

And with that, the spectacularly fit but equally arrogant beauty turned on her high heeled leather boots and headed in the direction of Dr. Eric Bloom, the kind and diminutive superintendent of the Davidsonville School System who also happened to be the Commissioner of the Davidsonville Gators Youth Athletic League.

"Oh I simply can't abide that woman," seethed Rachel Miras. "Do you know she calls me the Hobbit behind my back?"

"You -- what about me, big girl at the bottom of the pyramid . . . just once I'd like to see that little show-off get hers - captain indeed."

"Me too," proclaimed a smiling Katherine Wray gleefully, imagining any number of scenarios in which Danielle might come undone.

"Ditto," chimed in Emma Duncan. "That arrogant little tease has been the bane of my existence for years. The way she all but mocks me on those occasions where she sits as a judge at the Davidsonville Municipal Courthouse drives me crazy - making snide comments about my legal skills, my clothing, my clients . . . All the while flirting with Adam Hess, Rebecca Ross' husband who on occasion volunteers as the courthouse bailiff. Ooh -- what I wouldn't give to see the tables turned on her."

"Dream on," lamented Mrs. Miras, "it looks like she's already beating poor Eric Bloom into submission over there. This cheer-leading experiment is no doubt DOA. In any event, let's finish up here so that everything is ready for the league's kick-off game tomorrow night. Everyone will be there and it should be a great time despite Ms. Fancy Pants' efforts to the contrary."

Or, unbeknownst to any of the gathered moms, perhaps because of them!

Across the room Danielle was in the final throes of cowing Dr. Bloom into submission.

"Of course you're correct Mrs. Parnell, as usual," the bedraggled administrator lied with a penitent look on his face knowing that to do otherwise would only subject him to more of this shrill woman's abuse. "We weren't properly taking into account the propriety of the young women of our community when we came up with this idea. In retrospect, as you so capably suggest, we would be better served putting our efforts into the girls' teams rather than suggesting that they can succeed only by supporting the boys."

And then with a sigh, Dr. Bloom practically pleaded to the now triumphant lawyer, "but it's going to so disappoint them, Mrs. Parnell. How will I ever even break the news?"

With a scowl on her otherwise beautiful face the now victorious Danielle Parnell decided to put the properly vanquished Eric Bloom out of his misery -- but not without completely humiliating him in the process.

"You pathetic little weakling," Danielle began imperiously, "you call yourself a leader but you're afraid of your own shadow."

And then, so that there was no doubt about who was in charge she loudly continued, "one doesn't prove that he's a man Dr. Bloom by leering at a woman while she is addressing him."

While the now subjugated and physically cowering Eric Bloom began to stammer something in response, Danielle leaned in closely to him -- towering over the diminutive commissioner in her heels -- and out of the earshot of anyone around informed him, "I have no problem doing your dirty work for you Bloom. Unlike you I don't shrink from my responsibilities or get all weepy at the prospect of telling a bunch of entitled children that they're not getting everything that they want. All you need to do is introduce me tomorrow night before this so-called "season kick-off game" and I'll be glad to tell these losers that the cheer-leading program is done. Do you think you can manage that?"

"Um . . . ah . . . I mean . . . I mean yes Mrs. Parnell, of course, I'll introduce you and . . . um . . . let you do my . . . well . . . you know . . . inform the parents and children about your . . . I mean our . . . I mean the league's decision to discontinue the cheer-leading program. And thank you, as always, for your help" finished the demoralized Dr. Bloom in his head kicking himself for thanking a woman who had again made an idiot of him in public.

With that, and with a self-satisfied smile on her imperious but beautiful face, Mrs. Danielle Parnell strode purposefully from the room and while all male attention focused on her departing derriere she sneered at the women that she had engaged earlier and arrogantly proclaimed, "problem solved . . . as usual."

* * *

Walking into her house some thirty minutes later, and still infuriated by the humiliation she had again suffered at the hands of Danielle Parnell, Emma Duncan was confronted by her husband Callum, Sr. reading the riot act to their perennially mischievous son Callum. Jr.

"But dad," the teen pleaded.

"But dad nothing, kiddo," his father barked back, "how did you ever think that would be okay. You're just lucky I'm the one who caught you."

After joining the fray, Emma learned that Callum had substituted out some of the plain vanilla smoke detectors he sold to raise money for Gator basketball with smoke detectors that also functioned as remote -- but hidden -- cameras. His father discovered the ruse upon walking in on his son's open computer and seeing live surveillance footage of a host of his neighbors' empty homes. Thinking quickly on his feet, the elder Duncan had begun calling the effected families and telling them that the smoke detectors Callum had installed were defective but that he'd come by in the next few days to replace them. In the meantime, Duncan Sr. confiscated his son's computer and put it safely in the master bedroom where he and Emma would keep it until all the replacements had been made.

Once Callum Jr. went to his room Emma asked her husband, "who did he do this to and who have you called?"

"In terms of where he put them, it's the Silvers, the Ross family, Katherine and Michael, the Miras clan and the Parnells. I've gotten a hold of everyone but the latter."

"Of course the Parnells are on the list," sighed Emma. "Thank God you found this out before Mrs. "Appropriate" over there did or she'd be angling to ship Callum to juvenile detention. I'll go ahead and send them an e-mail tonight."

"Thanks," her husband responded, "if it makes it any easier on you I put Callum's computer over there on your nightstand. This way you don't need to go down to your office."

As her frustrated but relieved husband headed off to brush his teeth Emma Duncan picked up Callum's laptop to send the e-mail "cover story" to Mr. and Mrs. Parnell. As the screen came to life it showed a crisp, high-definition, color image of what she knew to be Nicole Silver's living room. After minimizing that file Emma began clicking on the other files in the same folder. In succession appeared flawless live pictures of the Ross family kitchen, the Wray's garage and Rachel Miras' laundry room.

"Thank God these rooms are empty," thought Emma to herself, "I'm clearly not cut out to be a spy . . . it's just so intrusive."

Squirming a bit at her own discomfort, Emma thought she was minimizing the folder containing the live video feed files -- so as to permit her to send the Parnells an e-mail and then get some sleep -- when she inadvertently clicked the one video feed she had not yet tried. The scene that confronted her took her quickly through a range of emotions -- from shock, to uproarious laughter, to unbridled glee . . . it was if Santa Claus just kept coming down the chimney with more gifts. Congratulating herself at having hit the virtual "record" button as soon as the show began, Emma Duncan, no longer planning to send the Parnells an e-mail, drifted off to what would be a blissful night's sleep.

* * *

Still flush with the joy that humiliating others -- particularly the likes of Davidsonville's homely moms and that eunuch Eric Bloom -- Danielle arrived home from the Davidsonville Community Center in very high spirits. After easing her white Range Rover Sport into its spot next to her garaged Mercedes convertible, the suburban sexpot checked in on her three kids and the Parnell family nanny, Alia and made her way to her bedroom for a quick shower and -- with her hapless husband out of town on business -- a blessedly undisturbed sleep. Closing her bedroom door behind her, Danielle spied on her bed the green-and-silver cheerleader pom poms that only yesterday she had taken from her daughter's hands as a first step in stamping out the latest of the Davidsonville Gators' bad ideas.