The Bigger They Are

Rolling the wheeled table into her suite, Tracy Olie lifted Mrs. Parnell, soaked and wearing only her sky high heels and leopard print thong, from the shower floor onto the white linen covered surface of the table laying her on her back to profile the large, tanned breasts she loved to flaunt so much while dressed. The resulting scene was completely ridiculous and Tracy loved it.

Danielle's toned arms and legs hung from each side of the cart, her black high heels and jewelry still on. The once domineering diva's head, makeup run amok and previously perfect hair drenched, was tilted to the side; her eyes were glazed over. The coup de grâce of course was that the formerly sex solicitor was still sporting the tiny leopard-print micro-thong that she had secretly worn to tease Joe Cardozi to distraction.

"Here's where the fun really begins," said Tracy to no one in particular as she changed out of her sneakers, jeans and t-shirt back into the suit and heels she had worn that morning to work.

As her semi-conscious law partner's eyes rolled once again back in her head, Tracy Olie threw a sheet over the disheveled diva's body and proceeded to roll the cart, with its clueless passenger now hidden from view, down the long luxurious hotel hallway and into a fortuitously open elevator. Smiling devilishly, Tracy pushed the "Lobby" button hoping she'd be able to descend the ten floors without interruption.

To her delight that hope was realized and, having quickly reached the lobby, the elevator's gilded doors opened to its bustling, marble covered and highly sophisticated environs. Men and women in business suits crowed the fancy hotel's cavernous first floor en route to lunch at its celebrated two Michelin star restaurant or to meet up for a midday cocktail at its swanky new rye bar. Many of them were members of Congress, business leaders and prominent lawyers, all of whom SmythKnight's imperious managing partner had rubbed elbows with in the past. The throng included women whom for her part Danielle had viciously demeaned and overshadowed as well as men who the faux-feminist fashionista had teased mercilessly or somehow otherwise manipulated. In fact, none of the lobby's visitors that day were particularly fond of Danielle Marie Parnell, although the male contingent couldn't help but be "attentive" whenever she was around, a fact that had always delighted the domineering diva.

"This is going to be better than I ever could have imagined," thought Tracy as, pulling the sheet from the still unaware Danielle, she splashed a glass of ice cold water on the woman's face and, with all her might, pushed the wheeled table from the now open doors of the elevator out into the center of the crowd. In an instant, the teeming lobby went from a cacophony of concurrent conversations to near absolute silence. As jaws dropped and trousers strained to their breaking points, the errant trolley and its nearly naked passenger rolled to a standstill at the epicenter of the magnificent, multistory marble atrium.

Before the crowd could react, Danielle Parnell, still groggy and completely disoriented but awakened somewhat by the water splashed by Tracy on her face, peered confused at the awestruck onlookers. As she panned the room she saw Lauren Butcher and Karen Manley and thought, "typical, these useless women are off to feed their fat faces instead of back at work." Was that her assistant, Linda Bertrand, standing alongside them? She can kiss her job goodbye. Among the men she spied Jerry Sarano, one of her male partners at SmythKnight, about whom she had grown increasingly less interested. What a loser. And was that Adam Hess, the hunky husband of that cow Rebecca Ross who was also in the crowd. I think my next e-mail will go to him.

To the right of her was... but before Danielle could register yet another familiar face in the throng before her, the still confused counselor realized that her jaw was quite sore and, reaching up to rub her face, she was taken aback by the fact that the previously silent crowd, each member of which appeared to be staring only at her, burst as one into hysterics. Danielle was completely confused. Why on earth were these ridiculous miscreants laughing? Come to think of it, where was she?

Only then, as the crowd continued to howl and point in her direction, did the event of the day begin slowly to return to her. As usual, to make sure that the temple that was her fabulous body remained flawless, she hit the gym at first light and got to the office early so that she could make note of those who straggled in after 8:30. Once behind her opulent desk she made a few very important phone calls for clients and then, stepping into her private dressing room, changed into the very sexy outfit she now was wearing...

"Oh my God," Danielle cried out as her recounted timeline crashed into the present, "my clothes... where are my clothes?!?"

As Mrs. Danielle Marie Parnell - powerful lawyer and sexy socialite - leapt from her prone position on the wheeled hotel table and landed nearly naked in her towering heels, she began instinctively to cover with one hand her fabulously tanned tits and with the other her there for all to see thong covered ass.

"Do you mean these clothes," replied a voice from a small, nondescript woman in the crowd that none but a very few present even recognized.

And that's when the full weight of what had only recently transpired hit Danielle Parnell like a ton of bricks.

"You," the dis-dressed diva shouted clearly terrified, "ya... ya... you stay away from me."

The juxtaposition of the ordinarily domineering alpha-lawyer - Danielle Marie Parnell, Esquire as she signed her name - cowering before the diminutive, if not downright frail, Tracy Olie - who somehow had clearly managed to relieve the tan, fit beauty of her clothes, was as delicious a scene as it was improbable. For the women in the crowd, so many of who had been looked down upon and insulted for years by the now trepid show-off, the tables could not have been more sweetly turned. How many times had Danielle flaunted her fabulous body, in the sexiest of professional clothing, in front of their husbands, boyfriends and sons? The crowd's male population on the other hand was aroused by the view of the hot little lawyer whose naked body they had so long imagined but whose scorn and ridicule they had instead so often encountered. Witnesses of both sexes were equally excited by how afraid the normally haughty women appeared to be of the small stranger now holding her clothes.

"Give me back my clothes," croaked Danielle weakly as she attempted unsuccessfully both to hide behind the wheeled table and interpose it between her and Tracy and as the humiliation of what Tracie Olie had done to her began further to set in.

"Why don't you come and get them tough-girl," smiled Tracy as the other women present stared in disbelief at their new hero, "or are you afraid I'll kick your ass again?"

As the titillated crowd imagined what this woman could mean, Danielle Parnell merely stood gob-smacked.

"Wait - I have a better idea," Tracy continued, "why don't you tell all of these people what brought you here today and then I'll give you your clothes back."

"But... I mean... what... what are you talking about," Danielle stammered her mind reeling with a mix of humiliation and fear.

"Oh... you know..," Tracy continued, "why don't you tell them how you sent my husband an e-mail telling him to meet you here for some 'afternoon fun without the midget'... and how you included a very sexy picture of yourself in that e-mail... and how you intimated that if he didn't come he, and I, might lose our jobs."

"She's lying," Danielle shouted, "that's not true... I... I came here for lunch and... well... she must have snuck up on me when I wasn't looking... and hit me with a bat or something... and stripped me..."

Most in the crowd, although still laughing, began to wonder whether the humiliated beauty might be telling the truth and Danielle... sensing it... decided to play one last desperate gamut.

"I mean, look at her," Danielle implored, "she's nothing... do you think that little twerp could ever have done this to me without sneaking up on me as part of some crazy jealous plan she hatched in her pea brain."

"Wrong answer," stormed Tracy Olie as, casting Danielle's clothes behind her she moved in like a panther on the unbelievably still arrogant MILF.

Danielle, growing in confidence by the second, reared back with her fantastically fit arm to slap the oncoming Tracy Olie and then unleashed what she hoped would be a knockout punch. Unfortunately for the tanned tease Tracy saw her feeble attempt coming from a mile away and, ducking under the errant swing, used Danielle's own momentum to put her quickly into a choke hold before lifting her off the ground and, standing on one leg, using her free foot to kick off the taller woman's heels. Now only barefoot and wearing only a thong, Danielle found herself staring up at Tracy Olie who in her own 5" heels was the slightly taller figure.

"Who's the midget now Danielle," Tracy taunted as, taking a seat in an open lobby chair, she proceeded to pull Danielle across her knees to administer a well-deserved spanking.

"I said who's the midget now... shorty," Tracy asked again as she slapped Danielle across her perfectly formed behind.

"I am," whispered Danielle.

"You're what," cried Tracy raining more spanks on the degraded diva's ass.

"I'm... I'm... I'm the... midget," Danielle croaked as tear formed in her eye.

"And why were you here today," Tracy continued.

"Because I'm a bad little girl who likes to show herself off to tease other women's husbands," Danielle confessed, now sobbing at the spanking being administered to her.

"That's right Dani," Tracy laughed tearing the thong from Danielle's body, "and I don't think little girls like you need such grown up panties do they?"

"No ma'am, they don't," blubbered Danielle as Tracy rolled her unceremoniously to the floor.

And then, as men and women alike cheered her on and laughed uproariously at Danielle, Tracy Olie issued one final warning.

"Now you get out of here you little tease. And if I ever see you as much as look at my husband again I'll punish you until that perfect ass and beautiful face of yours are completely unrecognizable."

Now completely naked, the humiliated Danielle ran for the door where the very valet in front of whom she had dropped the keys to her fancy new Mercedes smiled as he dropped them in front of her. The reason for the smile was two-fold. On the one hand it was karmic justice for the formerly arrogant MILF who had insulted him earlier and on the other, it was because her son had come by earlier and traded out his own old 1985 Ford Mustang convertible beater for his mother's fabulous ride. It was in that car that Danielle would be pulled over speeding by Lori Heilkamp a mere mile from her home.