Bonnie is too good and Clara is too bad

With two similarly sized and shaped women, both similarly pure servants of the church, with similar demeanor and levels of experience, their chemistry ought to be heaven-made, right? Wrong, as it turned out. Earlier on, Broomi had gotten some glimpses that her mom was weirdly primed and ready for this kind of experience, as much as it bothered her. She continued to be so, now raising one leg and climbing the pole easily, then flipping so that she hung down, threatening to simply pop out of her bra as her over-sized boobs made a critical swing. Broomi couldn't believe her eyes and didn't want to either... she wasn't even sure if she could do that move without falling over. "Moooom! Why do you know how to do that?!" she questioned, clutching at the sides of her robe self-consciously.

"Well, I had to meet your dad somehow, didn't I?" Bonnie laughed, while hanging upside down at the top of the tall, angel-tipped pole.

"Ah. She met my dad at a strip club. In hindsight, it would have been pretty weird if he'd stuck around, with a relationship like that," Broomi thought to herself without saying it out loud. That was all the more reason she needed to protect her mom from those who would take advantage from her unreal naivete.

On the other side was Clara who... was desperately trying to push herself up the pole to copy Bonnie's movements, only to slide down on her butt every time. Broomi had wanted to see her fall on her ass, but not eight times in a row! The high priestess' butt-cheeks were now dirty with garden mud. It looked like she was about to start crying. "U-Uh, Miss Fauxbright, don't worry if you can't do it! Humans don't have wings, it's not that easy for us to get up there with the angels," the confessor joked, wringing her hands and feeling as though the roles had been oddly distributed, seeing that she'd been **** to console the head of the church. Oddly, that comment only seemed to make Clara more upset. "Okay, this is what they call a 'teachable moment.' Go towel your bum and I'll show you what you have to do. And mom, you may as well get upright, or all the blood is going to rush to your head..."

"It's fine, Broomi! I can hold it!" the older woman giggled, her brown pigtails and breasts both dangling as she maintained that odd position, with one egg up in the air and the rest of her smothered upside down against the pole.

"... That may be the power of an airhead," Broomi nodded, before rolling up her sleeves further.