********************************

Tuesday

Camilla called Lynn the next morning.  “I got it!” she announced proudly.

“Oh?”

“There’s a basketball game tomorrow night – Duke versus North Carolina.  I guess it’s supposed to be a big game?  And my dad went to North Carolina.“

“Phil went to Duke.”

“Sweet!  I’m sure they’ll want to get together for it.  The game’s at 8:15, apparently.”

“Great.  Let’s have you over at 7, so we can eat first.  I’ll invite some of the other gals and guys too, if you don’t mind.”

“For sure!  The more, the better!”

“Alright – it’s decided.  See you tomorrow.”

“See you then!  Bye!”

Camilla felt a nervous, giddy sort of feeling, like she’d just done something naughty – which, technically, she had.  Dad would flip his shit if he knew I’d made plans on his behalf without him knowing.  I’ll have to be careful how I bring it up to him, haha…

* * *

She approached her father a bit nervously.  “Hey, Dad, I—“

“Sorry, Camilla, I’m real busy,” he said, not even looking up from his computer screen.

Camilla leaned in a bit closer.  He was on a job search website – and some of the filters he was using were downright ridiculous.  A desired salary of $50K and up??  Are you friggin’ serious???

“OK, sorry,” she said quickly, starting to leave.  But then she had a thought.  “Um … random question: there’s a big basketball game tomorrow, right?”

“Huh?”  He still didn’t look up.  He clicked a few more times before replying, “Uh … yeah.  Tomorrow.  Why?”

“I dunno … maybe it’d be fun if you went over to Phil’s house to watch?  He went to Duke, right?”

“… What?  Oh.  He did, yeah.  Now, if you don’t mind …”  He shooed her with his hand.

“So you’re OK with a get-together at Phil’s house tomorrow?”

“Huh?  Yeah, I guess.  Please, Camilla …”

“OK.  Sorry to bother you.”  She ducked out quickly and fist-pumped.  Perfect.

********************************

Wednesday

 “What do you mean, ‘you’re coming’??” Mark exclaimed, staring up at Camilla.

“You said we could have a get-together at Phil’s house – remember?”

“I didn’t mean you!!  I’m just going to watch the game!!”

“Well, Lynn and Phil are expecting both of us for dinner,” Camilla declared – rather too curtly, for Mark’s taste.  “So maybe dress up a bit?  And they’ve invited some other couples, too.”

Aye yai yai!   Mark frowned in consternation.  “Now, why’d you go and do that,” he complained.

“You were so busy yesterday, so I coordinated with Lynn myself.  Sorry, Dad … but we’re eating early enough that you and the guys can watch the whole game in peace.  We’ll stay out of your hair.”

He rolled his eyes.  She’s talking like she’s ‘one of the girls’ – Ha!!  She’s half the other women’s age, and has nothing in common with them.

He sighed.  “Fine.  Whatever.  But next time, let me do the coordinating.”

“Understood.”

* * *

He stepped out of his bedroom and his eyes nearly popped out when he saw what Camilla was wearing – a ruffled blouse with a verrrry low neckline, and a skirt that fit much too tightly around her caboose.  The goods she had on display were actually a little staggering.  He wavered a moment before dragging his eyes upwards and recovering quickly.  “Ohhhh, no.  Not a chance,” he said flatly.

Camilla was caught very much off-guard.  “Huh?  Oh … haha, very funny, Dad.”  She rolled her eyes at his bad joke and started toward the fridge.

Her dad put a hand on her arm and glared up at her.  “It wasn’t a joke,” he said firmly.

Camilla blinked in surprise.  “What, you’re serious??  Good grief, Dad – I’m 20 years old!”

“Sure, but—“

“And what’s the big deal?  It’s not like your friends will stare at me, with their wives in the room.”

He grimaced.  That may be true, but her VERY large breasts are practically hanging out of her top!!  It’s extremely distracting – ahem, not for me, just for everyone else …

“Camilla, I’m asking you—“

“And I’m saying no!”  She flicked his hand off her arm and scowled down at him.  She had to work hard to keep her temper down.  This is ridiculous!!  “I’m sorry, Dad, but I have to draw a line here!  I’m too old for you to be dictating these things.”  Yet another thing I can’t believe I have to explain to him.

He shot a hard glare up at her, but she didn’t bat an eye.  Maybe it’s a silly time for me to make a stand, she thought, but I will not budge on this – it’s simply absurd!

Dad seemed to be mentally running through his options.  Finally, he gave an exasperated sigh.  “Fine.  It’s not worth arguing.”  He started to turn, then smiled impishly.  “However, as you said, you’re 20 – and not 21 – so I’m afraid I can’t allow you to drink alcohol tonight.  Sorry, honey …”

He saw her temper really flare for a few moments, then slowly settle back down.  Ohhh, she does not like that one bit!  Haha … well, too bad.

He turned and sported a victorious grin as he walked to the car, with his daughter staring daggers at his back.  Ha!

* * *

A few minutes later, Mark started to put on his North Carolina Tar Heels jersey, but he remembered Lynn was a bit on the prim and proper side, and with the dinner beforehand she just might object.  Just to be polite, he changed into a nice pair of jeans and a button-down shirt.

He was glad he changed, though, because Phil answered the door dressed even nicer: black slacks and a dark shirt with … pink floral patterns.

“Wow, you look good, Phil!” Camilla complimented.

Mark almost lost his mind.  What the fuck is he wearing?? Mark thought.  Phil always wears jerseys to watch games, and he’d be the last one to be caught dead in something like that!

Phil blushed at Camilla’s compliment, and his eyes widened when he saw her low-cut blouse.  “N-Nice to see you,” he said quickly, coughing and lifting his gaze.  “Come in and make yourself comfortable.  I—oh, drat!!”  The kitchen timer had just started going off, and Phil rushed off.  “Come in, come in,” he called over his shoulder, as he disappeared.

Mark and Camilla exchanged bemused glances and followed him inside.  In the kitchen, Phil was a flurry of activity, trying to man the stove, oven, and cutting board all at once.

“Need help?” Camilla generously suggested.

“Nonsense!” Lynn called out, stepping into the room.  She was looking fabulous, wearing a dinner dress that looked just right on her.  And heels.  Man, those make her look tall, Mark noted, gulping slightly.

“There’s drinks for us in the study,” she told Camilla.  “I’m sure the boys can handle things in here, eh?”

This tickled Camilla.  “Oh, I’m sure they can!” she replied, following Lynn out.  She saw her dad start to follow her.  She and Lynn exchanged an amused smile, and Camilla turned and told her dad playfully, “I think you’d better stay and help with the cooking, bud!”

Mark listened to his daughter’s chuckles echo down the hall.  He was stunned.  “Help with cooking??  The hell I will!!  Phil, did you hear—”

“Damn it!” Phil cursed, burning his hand on the pan of roasted chicken as he pulled it out of the oven.  “Mark, would you mind slicing some vegetables??” he said in a harried voice, kicking the oven closed with his foot as he carried the pan to the counter.

Mark scoffed.  “Haha, very funny.  The day I come over to your house and help you cook dinner while your wife sits around, is the day I—“

“Please, Mark!?!  Lynn’s gonna be pissed if dinner’s not done by the time everyone arrives!!”

The near-panic in Phil’s voice froze Mark in his tracks.  “I … I’m sure it’ll be OK, buddy,” he replied quietly, if less confidently.

He was just deciding what to do, when two surprisingly strong hands attacked his ribs.  He yelped and convulsed.

“Surprise!!  Hey, Mark – long time no see!!”

Ugh – of course.  “Hi, Carly,“ he replied, fending the fingers away.  He turned around … and his jaw dropped.  Alan’s wife – once a super petite, tiny little red-haired sparkplug of a woman who had been almost a foot shorter than him – was not so tiny anymore.  Now tall and lanky, her shoulders cleared Mark’s head by a good two inches, at least!! It took him a second to realize she was wearing heels – but still, she was at least as tall as Camilla now!!

“Holy …”  He inhaled sharply.  “H-H … How tall are … uh …??”

“6 foot 7!” the spunky redhead declared down to him proudly.  “Actually, 6 foot 7 and a half, as of this morning!   The doctors say everyone grows at different rates, and I guess I happen to grow faster than most, so … hahaha, you should see your face!!”

Gathering his wits was difficult.  He’d always secretly found his friend’s young wife quite attractive – she was only 26, Mark believed; about a decade younger than Alan and almost 20 years younger than Mark – but had always considered that her one flaw was being too short.  Well, that was certainly not the case now.  Her long, supple body could easily grace the cover of a fashion magazine and would steal the show on a runway, if you asked Mark.  But the new perspective was downright unsettling.

“Hi, Phil,” Carly added casually.  “Hope you don’t mind us letting ourselves in!”

“Of course!” Phil replied quickly.  “No problem.  Welcome.”  The juices from the pan were starting to run, drawing his attention away.

“Looks tasty!”  Carly turned back to smile down at Mark.  “What’ve you been up to, stud?” she asked, shifting her weight to one insanely long leg.

Mark shuddered.  They had always had a totally non-serious, just-for-pretend flirtatious relationship, and ‘stud’ was how Carly always started it off.  It had started a year ago as a joke about how Alan could have managed to land such a ‘hot babe’ ten years younger than him.  It had evolved into them joking that Mark would steal her from Alan if he wasn’t careful.  It had always been something easily laughed off before – but now …

Phil saved him by saying, “Hi, Carly – sorry to interrupt, but could I borrow Alan for a minute??”

“Oh – for sure!  I think that’s my cue, haha – I’ll go chat with the girls.  Living room?”

“No – study.”

“Got it.”  She waved Alan past her, then winked at Mark.  “Don’t burn the house down,” she teased, then strode off.

Mark’s head was spinning, and not just from the sight of Carly’s legs (though, that was part of it).  He hoped Alan at least could help him make sense of all this – but Alan was already at the counter, working intently with Phil to lift the chicken onto a serving platter and arrange the presentation.

“Uh … hey, guys,” Mark tried.

“Not now,” Phil and Alan said in unison, still focusing.

Mark was dumbfounded.  Never in a thousand years did I expect to find Phil running a kitchen – or Alan helping him!

The doorbell rang just a minute later.  “Damn!” Phil hissed, kicking into overdrive.  “Alan, would you chop some vegetables for the salad and help set the table??”

Alan didn’t hesitate.  “You got it.”  He started chopping away, as Phil made brief eye contact with Mark before rushing to the front door.

Moments later, Phil was politely directing Ray’s wife, Hana, to the study, as Ray stepped up to the kitchen counter.  “How can I help?” he asked straight away, without any prompting.

“Transfer the dressing to a bowl and carry things to the table?” Phil requested.

Ray nodded and got to work.  “Hi, Mark,” he added, along the way.  Mark’s stillness puzzled him.  “What’s Mark helping with?” he heard Ray mutter to Phil.  Phil just shrugged and kept working.

Mark suddenly felt like a jerk for dawdling – but his mind was still trying to catch up, frankly.  He started to offer to carry something, but the guys worked so fast they had it all done in no time.

“Thanks, guys,” Phil said to the group, then went to the study.

Mark awkwardly approached the other two.  “Sorry I didn’t help.  I just, uh …”

“Don’t worry about it,” Alan dismissed quietly.  “It’s fine.”

“But what is going on with—“

Boisterous female laughter flooded the hallway, then the kitchen, as the four towering ladies stepped through.  Someone must have said something extremely funny, as Camilla and Carly in particular were in the middle of side-splitting laughter.

“What’s the joke?” he asked up at his daughter.

Camilla exchanged glances with Carly and laughed some more.  “Just an inside thing,” she dismissed, waving it off.

“Please, sit where you like,” Phil cut in, gesturing graciously to the table.  The women nodded to him in appreciation and went to the table – which had been set in record time, by the way.  You would never know it had been bare a minute ago.

Mark noticed all four women sat first, each leaving an empty space beside them.  Then the men all trailed in and took their appointed seats.  Mark was slowest on the draw, and found his daughter smiling at him and nodding to the chair next to her, after the rest had already sat down.

The strange, surreal feeling persisted as Mark took his seat.  That’s when he noticed the half-empty glass of wine in Camilla’s hand – as with the other women – and he rather peevishly leaned toward her and reminded in a low voice, “You promised you wouldn’t drink tonight.”

His daughter leaned closer, too.  “Please don’t embarrass me, Dad,” she countered, unexpectedly.  “Things operate differently around here.  Just go with the flow.”

“Do WHAT!?!” he hissed, still keeping his voice down.  “So I’m just supposed to accept all this bizarre behavior as normal???”

“Please, Dad,” Camilla whispered, with supplicating eyes.  “It’s just for the dinner part.  Afterwards, you guys can go watch your game on your own.”

Camilla watched her father's jaw drop open, but she didn't have time to keep explaining the obvious to him.  "Mmm ... the chicken's fabulous, Phil!" Hana praised, and Camilla tried it too.

"Yeah!" she agreed. "Very tasty!  To be honest, I didn't think Phil had it in him!"

Lynn beamed and rubbed the back of her husband's neck affectionately. "Phil's come a long way already.  He's making me proud."

Mark watched Lynn stroke Phil's neck almost like some kind of cherished pet – and Phil almost seemed to like it!  This is fucking impossible …

"Long way toward what?" Mark just had to ask.

Lynn exchanged a sly grin with Camilla and the other women. "You don't have to answer that," Camilla told Lynn gently, placing a hand on her father’s forearm.  Mark almost yanked it away furiously. She's being goddamned condescending again! 

"No, I don't mind," Lynn said.  She leaned over the table and smiled at Mark, like how one might smile when explaining something to a child. "Phil's duties have changed a lot, sweetie, since he lost his job. Since then, I've become the breadwinner and Phil's been learning how to run a household. It's been a learning process for both of us."

Mark never liked Lynn that much - always too high strung and demanding, even back then. Now, though, she was a goddamned monster in disguise. That phony smile infuriated him to no end.  What is she putting Phil through??  What goes on between them when guests aren't around??

He was too uncomfortable to ask, though. Conveniently, Hana changed the subject to women's favorite subject, clothes – nothing would ever change that – and Camilla's hand withdrew from his arm as the conversation bounced among the four women, leaving the men entirely silent.  Over the next ten minutes of this, Mark made eye contact with the other guys, but at most they just shrugged.  They seemed used to being left out of the conversation now.

The two wine bottles at the table were being depleted quickly. When Carly refilled her second – or third? – glass, she tilted the bottle toward Alan's empty glass. He covered it with his hand, and Mark overheard him whisper, "Can I have beer instead?"

"Um, not at dinner, sweetie. Maybe later, during your game."  She offered the wine again, but Alan glumly shook his head.  They both noticed Mark staring at them at the same time; Alan winced, but Carly giggled at him and wrinkled her nose. 

Mark felt like beer too, but he decided not to ask, out of concern that Camilla might turn him down too, as crazy as that might sound. He just wasn't sure what would happen.  He chose to keep quiet and get through this awful dinner as easily as possible.

The women gabbed on and on, which meant they ate slowly. Phil tried to get up at one point, but Lynn touched her hand to his shoulder and broke off her conversation to ask, "Where are you off to, sweetie?"

Phil glanced anxiously at the clock – just ten minutes to tip off – and Lynn noticed. "Just thought I'd get the dessert ready," he replied politely.

"Not everyone's done eating yet," Lynn scolded gently. "We don't want to rush them."

"I can speed up," Camilla offered. She was one of two women with food still on their plate.

"No, no, I insist!" Lynn said emphatically. "Take all the time you like."

Camilla grinned.  "OK, I will."  She certainly did not eat any faster from then on. 

Mark couldn't believe how rude his daughter was being.  Lynn is Lynn ... but no daughter of mine can act like that! But again, he worried how him complaining would play out. 

Phil sat back down but seemed increasingly anxious as the minutes ticked away.  Phil was an absolute diehard sports fan and couldn't bear to miss a single minute.  At least that hasn't changed.

But it was over a minute after the last set of silverware was put down, before Lynn casually sat back and announced, "Well ... who saved room for dessert?"

"Bring it on!" Hana cheered, and the other women expressed interest too. 

"Desserts all around!" Lynn declared. Phil knew that was his cue, and he got up without being asked. 

"I'll help," Alan offered, getting up as well. Mark was just as antsy to end dinner as them, but he didn't think to offer – or want to. 

The guys returned with two plates each, passing them out to the four women – the only ones who'd shown interest. "Can we go now?" Mark barely heard Phil whisper to Lynn. The clock showed three minutes past tipoff. 

"Don't be rude, dear!" she whispered back. "See if the boys want any."

Phil asked; they all said no.

"OK, then have a seat and keep us company," Lynn declared.

Phil did so – as did the other guys – but Phil could hardly sit still in his seat, literally squirming with impatience as the women took their time. Finally, Phil couldn't help it anymore and he begged, "Can I at least go record the game so we don't miss it??"

Lynn darkened and seemed to consider a tongue lashing, but perhaps for the sake of guests she said more calmly, "I really think that'd be rude. You're the host.  But ... if you want to ask Mia, I'm sure she'll do it.  Quickly, though."

Phil gave a strained nod and hurried off.  Mark hadn't seen Phil's 16-year-old today, but she must have been off in her room or something, avoiding the adults.

Moments later, Phil returned with a reassuring nod to the guys, then sat back down, more relaxed.

"Won't you try a slice of your own pie, honey?” his wife asked him.  “It's delicious. You did great."  She planted a big kiss on his cheek. 

"Yeah, it's fantastic," Carly complimented.

"OK, I'll try it," Phil conceded.

Alan asked for a slice, and Mark figured he might as well too. Camilla and Hana, meanwhile, requested seconds. 

It was another 15 minutes of eating and chatting before Lynn suggested the girls retire to the study – and only because the wine at the table had run out, it seemed.  The four of them sauntered off, Mark’s eyes instinctively following their rear ends – even Camilla’s, by accident.  He sighed.

"Finally!" Phil muttered, the moment they were out of earshot. "Oh, thank god."  He popped up to his feet. 

"For real!" Mark commiserated. "Let's get this started!"

"Oh – no, we have to take care of the dishes first," Phil explained. "No TV until then."

Mark blinked. "You serious?"

"That's the rule."

Phil and the other guys worked with incredible efficiency, like a goddamned Nascar pit crew.  He could tell they didn't like him not helping … but frankly he would have only gotten in their way.

Regardless, the kitchen was near spotless inside of ten minutes. The guys then paraded into the living room, where Mia was watching a sitcom – one Mark hadn't seen before, featuring particularly tall women and especially short men (like, more than a foot and a half shorter) in comical romantic situations. Mark didn't really find it funny at all, at least what little he saw of it.

"Mia, it's time for us to watch our game," Phil said, with surprising patience.

Mia turned her head.  Like almost all girls her age, she had not yet been touched by a growth spurt; she was still slender and several inches shorter than her dad.  "Just a couple minutes?" she asked.  "It's almost over."

"You can watch the rest in our bedroom."

"But that screen's so tiny!"  She made no move to get up. 

Phil came around to her and said, rather less patiently, "NOW, Mia."

"Ugh!  Is Mom OK with this!?"

"Yes, Mia.  You can ask her yourself."

Mark watched in shock as Phil's teenage daughter shot her dad a hard glare then stormed past him toward the study – without any rebuke from Phil!  She'd just openly disrespected him, and he'd let it happen!

Phil noticed Mark's surprised look. "Not worth it," he shrugged. "You gotta pick your battles.  And Lynn keeps her in line pretty good."

That’s not good enough! Mark thought.  Yeesh!

Phil settled into his favorite armchair, as the other guys took seats around the room. Phil opened the menu and flipped through the recordings, and—

"What the hell!?!" he shrieked, now flipping through like a madman. "It's not recording! It never was!!"  He switched to the live feed and almost fainted when he saw the game clock.

"You mean, we missed the whole first half??" Alan blurted.

Near enough - there were just 48 seconds left till halftime.

Mark and Ray were distraught, too – but none as much as Phil. His whole body was trembling with frustration, even rage.  For the biggest sports fan Mark had ever met, to have missed almost an entire half of one of the biggest games of the year … Phil was understandably mad.

"Hey, it's OK, buddy," Ray consoled. "At least we—"

Phil’s daughter had just reemerged from the study, and Phil leapt to his feet.  "MIA!" he yelled sharply,  evading Ray's outstretched hands and storming up to his daughter furiously.

She jerked back in surprise -- and some real fear – as her bigger, stronger father came up to her. 

"You didn't set the recording!?" Phil demanded.

"Yeah, I did!"

"No, you didn't!  Did you forget to hit 'confirm' again??"

"I ... oh.  Uh, maybe."

"Go to your room!" Phil roared, pointing across the house.

"You said I could finish my show in—"

"NOW!!  And don't come out until I say so!!"

Mia seemed too stunned to react at first. Eventually reality sunk in and she puttered down the hall, slamming the door behind her. 

A heavy silence filled the living room, except for the quiet cheers of the crowd on screen. Mark was pretty surprised – but a bit relieved, honestly.  'bout time one of my friends showed some balls again! But the other guys seemed downright horrified.

Phil silently went to the armchair, sat down, popped open his beer, took a long drink, then somberly fixated on the game and nothing else.  Slowly, the others did the same, with no one speaking a word until five minutes into halftime.  Mark wanted to congratulate him/reassure him - but the oppressive silence from the others worried him.  What are they expecting to happen now??

The mood started to lighten again when the second half began. Ray, Mark, and Alan began to joke around and cheer for their respective teams, and finally Phil joined in.  Midway through the second half, when the game was getting good, they were laughing and yelling and high fiving each other just like old times.

“Another damned turnover!?” Phil exclaimed, pulling his hair out.

“So careless with the ball…” Ray chimed in.

North Carolina ran the fast break but missed a wide-open jumper.  His friends hooted and hollered, as Mark complained, "Come on!  Make a shot, you son of a bitch!" Mark shouted at the screen. "Man!  That jackass couldn't hit a three if his life depen--"

It struck him that all his friends had fallen silent. He turned his head to see them all looking toward the hallway, where Mia had appeared out of her bedroom. She was standing with red, puffy eyes – she'd been crying! – but a vicious, vindictive look on her face. 

She suddenly started forward, crossed the room behind them and making a direct line for the opposite hallway and the study beyond.  Alan and Ray rose half to their feet in alarm.  Phil, however, leapt all the way to his feet and cried out, "No!" in a strangled voice, running after her with arm outstretched. "Mia!" he pleaded.

But his daughter rushed out of sight.  Female voices rose and then fell silent as the door to the study opened and closed.  Standing at the end of the living room, Phil's shoulders slumped despondently.  He looked almost ready to puke. 

A minute later, the door opened again and Mia stepped into view. She looked at her father blankly for several long seconds, then said, "Mom wants to see you … in your room."  A flicker of satisfaction whisked across her face as she stepped past him in the direction of her room and disappeared.

Mark's heart pounded as Phil plodded slowly, heavily down the hallway past the study, not looking back.

"What's going to happen?" Mark asked.  "Is she gonna yell at him?" 

Alan gave a nervous shrug, but otherwise both he and Ray turned their eyes to the TV and watched silently.

Mark tried to lighten the mood. "Oh, c'mon, a bit of tongue lashing isn't THAT bad ..."

Neither of them said a word.  They seemed worried for their friend.

* * *                         

45 minutes earlier

The ladies filed into the study, giggling and bubbling with wine – of which there was plenty more.

“Dinner really was good,” Camilla praised.  “I still can’t believe Phil did all that!”

“I know,” Lynn acknowledged.  “A few months ago, Phil couldn’t have toasted his own bread … and that’s hardly an exaggeration.”

“So how did you teach him?”

“Teach him – to cook?  Oh, no, sweetie, I didn’t teach him one lick about cooking.  I never was that great of a cook myself.”

“Then how’d he learn?”

“Watching cooking shows, reading books … who knows?  I don’t follow all the details in his life.”  She grinned devilishly.  “I just supply the motivation.”

“That you do, Lynn!” Hana laughed.  “Lynn’s probably the toughest among us.  But the rest of us are learnin’.”

Camilla shifted excitedly. "Can I ask how exactly you made that happen? I mean, you've changed him so much!"

The other women all chuckled.

"What?" Camilla asked.

"Looking to make similar changes in your father, eh?" Hana said slyly. 

Camilla did a double take. "You, too!?  Lynn said that the other day, but … I mean, you can’t really be serious, right?"

"It's not a big deal," Carly cut in.  "Every family should be led by women – regardless of circumstances."  The other two nodded in agreement. 

Camilla gaped at them. If anyone would object, she would have thought it'd be Carly. But she was as sure about this as the others. 

"Maybe," she whispered thoughtfully. "Maybe."

Lynn laughed. "Great! All we gotta do is help make up her mind."  The three of them clinked glasses. Camilla still wasn't convinced, but she slowly clinked her glass with theirs too - not ready to agree with them yet, but at least ready to hear them out. 

"Alright," she said giddily, nervously, "how WOULD I, hypothetically, get Dad to behave like Phil?"

* * *

Some time later, Camilla sat back in her chair, putting a palm to her forehead dizzily. 

"You alright?" Carly asked in a friendly way. 

Camilla nodded. "I'm great. There's just SO much to process.  Honestly, I'm not sure I believe half the things you've told me – you girls seriously did all that to your husbands?  I can't decide if you're just playing a practical joke or not."

The others laughed uproariously.  Lynn slapped her on the back. "Once you start trying these ideas yourself, you'll see how fun – and effective – it can be."

"But I haven't said I'd actually do any of it!" Camilla protested. 

Lynn looked at her appraisingly. "You will,” she concluded firmly.  “I have no doubt."

Camilla got chills again, for the umpteenth time that evening. She didn't respond, but she didn't deny it either. 

Hana grinned impishly. "Just promise us you won't try some of those tricks on him that we taught you for the bedroom!"

"Oh god!!  NOOO!!!" Camilla exclaimed. The others broke into side splitting laughter, and Camilla did too.  The three of them had divulged some VERY private and VERY juicy details of their new love lives with their husbands. Camilla knew a tremendous amount about each of them now. For example, Phil was STILL skittish about relinquishing control to Lynn in the bedroom – which Lynn found adorable, fortunately for Phil – and he hated going down on her, but Lynn liked it so much that that's almost all they did anymore.  And he'd gotten so good at it that Carly and Hana had since told their men to ask Phil for pointers – and they’d apparently done it, too, given no choice in the matter.

Hana still allowed Ray to have sex with her – but only once a week, and only if he did all his chores and other tasks that week!  She let him be on top too, as a reward, since that's what Ray liked. 

But Camilla had been most surprised to learn that Alan was a submissive at heart and was still incredibly excited by his wife's new size and power. The tales of their sexual activities in recent months still made Camilla's jaw drop when she thought about it. Everything she'd done with Nestor and others didn't even scratch the surface.

Of course, they'd practically rolled on the floor laughing when they learned that Camilla and Nestor had hooked up.  Apparently none of their husbands had mentioned it to them.  The teasing and encouragement from them was endless, despite her insistence that it was likely just a one time fling.

As the laughter died down, they heard more roars from the living room.  The women all rolled their eyes at each other. "Boys …" Hana joked.

"Think they're wondering what we're talking about in here?" Carly snorted.

"I doubt it," Lynn replied. "I think sports already occupies their simple little minds!"

That brought one of the biggest laughs all night. They joked about boys for the next few minutes, until they heard a knock on the door. 

They eyed each other quizzically.  "Who is it?" Lynn called out.

"It's Mia."

"Mia?  Come on in."

Lynn’s daughter folded her hands in front of her politely.  “Sorry to bother you …”

“Not at all – what is it, dear?”

“Did you tell Dad he can have the TV now?  He said I have to watch my show in your room instead.”

“He said you have to?” Lynn asked, pricking her ears up.  “Hopefully he asked you nicely?”

Mia shrugged.  “I guess so.”

Lynn relaxed.  “Yes, I said he and his friends could have the TV now.  Sorry, I didn’t realize you were still watching your show, honey.  If you don’t mind watching in our room …”

“OK,” Mia nodded, politely walking out and shutting the door gently.

The women exchanged smiles, with Camilla and Carly complimenting her politeness. “Well, she probably won’t stay meek for long,” Hana commented smugly.  “She’s gonna grow sooner or later.”

The others nodded.  Camilla took another glug of wine and nodded too.  It’s just the way of things now, she acknowledged.

They chatted a bit more – until Mia burst into the room again.  This time, she seemed greatly shaken and her eyes were puffy and on the verge of tears.

"What happened?!?" Lynn asked, jumping to her feet and rushing forward to console her cherished daughter. 

"Dad yelled at me!" Mia replied bitterly.

"He WHAT!?!"  Surprise quickly gave way to anger.  "What did he say?” Lynn asked hotly.  “Tell me EXACTLY."

As Mia recounted what happened, Camilla watched Lynn's normally composed expression turn incredibly hostile.  She seethed for several seconds after Mia finished, before saying in clear, icy tones, "Tell your father to meet me in our room."  And that was all. 

Even Camilla felt a chill as Mia left the room. The three of them waited silently, as Lynn's angry expression remained. "The ONE thing I asked of him, above everything else, is to never, ever raise his voice to our daughter.  She's the most important thing in the world ... And to break this rule over some stupid, childish sports game!!"

The glass in Lynn's hand began to creak.  Carly rushed forward and coaxed it from her before it shattered to pieces.  Gritting her teeth and locking her gaze dead ahead, Lynn stepped out the door and didn't look back.

Hana shut the door and winced, along with Carly and Camilla.  "It has to be done," Hana conceded, and Carly murmured agreement.

Now that Camilla had a sense of what exactly Lynn would do to Phil, she almost felt a little bad for him.  But she also remembered what they all had told her numerous times that evening: to enact REAL, lasting change, you could not under any circumstances let a thing like this slide.  You had to react to it instantly, without hesitation.  And doing this once up front would avoid the need to do it three times later on – it was ultimately in his own interest, really.

Camilla had not believed this in the slightest when they first told her - but when they all insisted on it adamantly, and gave examples, she began to think they might know what they're talking about after all. Still, it was all so new to Camilla and continued to make her head swim.

* * *

From the living room a little while later, Mark thought he heard something – a strange sound, coming from the direction where Phil had gone.  "I'm going to check on him," he decided, standing up.

Alan and Ray all but threw themselves in his way. "Don't do it!" they both insisted frantically.

"Why not??  He's been gone for almost 10 minutes."

"They don't want you going there," Alan explained more bluntly.

His tone put Mark's hackles up.  "Why!?  Just tell me!"

They both refused.  No matter how he asked, neither would tell him another word.

Did Lynn put her husband in timeout or something? The thought made his stomach turn.

He sat back down – but despite it being a thrilling finish to the game, one of the best he’d ever seen, he could hardly focus on it at all. His thoughts kept turning to Phil, and he couldn’t stop worrying.

* * *

The post game show had been playing for almost fifteen minutes before Mark gestured toward the study and asked, "Should we ...?"

Alan and Ray shook their heads.  "They'll come out when they're ready," Ray replied mechanically, as if this reply had been drilled into him before.

Mark didn't know what to say. All he knew is he wanted to know how Phil was doing and then get the fuck out of this looney bin and back home where things made sense. 

The game had ended half an hour ago by the time the women emerged.  Lynn was with them.  "How was your game, boys?" she asked civilly.

"Good," Alan and Ray replied in unison.

Mark stirred.  "Where is Phil?" he demanded, with more than a little edge in his voice.  

Lynn's eyebrows rose in surprise at his boldness. "He's not feeling well and he's gone to bed for the evening."

Mark didn't believe her.  "Can I see him?" he demanded.

This caused quite a stir among the women – and men, for that matter.  Before anyone else could say anything, Camilla hastily stepped in front of him.  "Maybe we should be going," she suggested quickly.  She could tell sticking around would only make things worse.

He stood up and tried to step around her, no doubt to accost Lynn again, but Camilla shadowed him at every turn and made it impossible to get by without actually shoving her aside.  Which, she was glad to see, it didn't come to.

"Oh, now YOU'RE telling me what to do – just like them!?" he muttered angrily.

"It's not like that," she told him softly – but he didn't listen.  He spun around ostentatiously and marched to the front door.

Camilla looked back at her new friends with embarrassment. She knew what each of them would tell her to do about this; but they at least seemed understanding and appreciative of her efforts to defuse things.  "I'm so sorry," she said. "Thank you so much for having us over."

"No problem, and you're welcome," Lynn said tenderly. "Come over anytime – I mean it."

"Bye, Camilla!" Carly chirped, waving.

"Hope to see you again soon!" Hana added.

Camilla returned the warm goodbyes and left with a smile on her face.  All three of them were really so nice, and witty, and funny, and everything else she could hope for in friends.  Despite being much younger than them – especially Lynn and Hana – she felt like they really treated her as an equal.  She couldn't wait to see them again.

She carefully hid her smile before coming in sight of her father, though. He was already waiting beside the car … the driver’s side.  He absolutely glowered at her as she approached.

"I suppose you're going to scold me for 'bad behavior,' right?" he snarled bitterly.

"What?  No!" she replied honestly. "Actually, I thought your reaction back there was totally understandable."

Mark blinked, nodded slowly, but still frowned.

"Let's go home," she suggested.  "I'm beat.  Oh, are you good to drive? I am."

He scoffed.  "I think you had WAY more to drink than me ... which I still don't appreciate, by the way!  We’re gonna need to have a talk about that."

Camilla wasn't sure about the soberness claim – she'd stopped drinking an hour ago, plus she simply had more body mass than him – but she didn't want to push him in his fragile state.  She let him take the driver’s side, and she didn't even argue about his silly notion of 'talking' about her alcohol consumption - which she had no intention of letting him do.

In the car, he turned to her and demanded, "What exactly did Lynn do with Phil tonight?  I want a straight answer.  And don't act ignorant – I know you know."

Camilla hesitated. "Maybe this isn't the best place.  Can we talk at home?"

"Hmph.  Fine."

* * *

Back home, Dad herded her right into his room and accosted her about Phil immediately, his tone even more demanding now.  Question after question rolled off his tongue.  Camilla sighed and led him to the foot of the bed.  "Please," she said, sitting down and pointing to the space beside her.

He crossed his arms and glared at her – but when that didn't work, he growled and sat next to her on the bed, but a little farther than she indicated, just to be difficult. 

Patiently, she collected her thoughts and began.  "Dad ... Lynn's in charge of that household.  And when I say 'in charge', I don't mean she just usually gets her way. I mean she is IN CHARGE.  As in, her word is law.  You see?  Same goes for Hana with Ray, and Carly with Alan – they're both in charge too, in their own ways."

Mark shifted uncomfortably. He'd already seen as much, or at least suspected it with Alan and Ray too.  "That’s freaking ridiculous,” he muttered dryly.  “But what's your point?"

"My point is that one of Lynn's biggest peeves is someone raising their voice to Mia, and she'd already told Phil that clearly. And Phil broke that rule, and there were consequences."

Mark breathed heavily. "You seriously don't see a problem with that?"

Camilla thought calmly. "It doesn't matter what I think.  That's simply how things are."

He scowled. "You've said that before ..."

His stubbornness began to rub her the wrong way.  "And I'll KEEP saying it - because it's true!" she replied, raising her voice a little.

He shook his head.  "I'll tell you one thing – we are NOT going over to any of their houses anymore, OR having them over.  That goes for you, too – I don't want them polluting your mind."

Camilla couldn’t take it anymore.  "POLLUTING my--!!  Ugh!!  Wake up, Dad!  Look around you!  Closing yourself off and pretending nothing's happening doesn't make it true!!"

"Ha! … HA!! …"  He laughed again, then again - short, derisive laughs that really got under her skin. Standing up, he loomed over her and told her snidely, "I'll only say this ONE time, so listen good: if you EVER bring up this kind of nonsense even one more time, I swear to God you won't step foot in this house again! You can keep spouting this bullshit all you want, but it'll have to be while living under someone else's roof – is that PERFECTLY clear!?"

Camilla was in disbelief. This was a new all-time low, even for him.  She shot him a well-deserved, furious glare, then brushed past him on her way out.

"Did you hear me??" he taunted after her – so fucking childishly!  "Hey,” he quipped, trying to be clever, “pretending I didn't say that doesn't make it true!!"

God ... if there was ever a time to hit my father, she thought, fists clenching so hard that her fingernails almost broke skin.  At the door, she VERY nearly turned around, as thoughts of her disabling that bully at the mall played once again in her head.  Only, Dad is a LOT weaker than that other man ... and he would cry SO much easier ... Oh, that would feel SOOO good right now …

He scoffed loudly when she paused, and he had no idea how close she came.  No freaking idea at all.  Reason barely won out, and she slammed the door behind her as she left.