Friday

Camilla's dad remained ornery all week, especially on Friday when he was officially terminated. Camilla wanted to do something nice for him so she got his friends' numbers from his phone and organized a poker night at their house without Dad knowing. She even put her own plans that week on hold to make the house presentable for their guests.

After consoling her dad as much as she could, she broke the evening’s plans to him.  He frowned at first, but she saw him warm up to the idea slowly. Better than just drinking his sorrows away at a bar like he sometimes does.

* * *

Despite the rough day, Mark was reasonably content as he and four of his best friends sat around the table in the basement playing No Limit Texas Hold'em.  They sat around shooting the shit for a while until everyone had arrived.  The kids were all upstairs sleeping or doing their own thing, and Camilla promised they wouldn’t be disturbed.  Which sounded great to him.

They commiserated with him on his lost job briefly, but moved on quickly, as guys do.  Then they laughed and joked just like old times, like nothing had changed.  They were all on their second beer when Mark pulled the cards out and started dealing.  “So, what’s the buy-in?” he asked.

“It’s your house,” Ray said.  “Your call.”

“Hold up,” Nestor cut in, “the man just lost his job.  Maybe he wants to play for peanuts.  Or maybe candy wrappers.”

The guys all snorted and laughed.  “Fuck you,” Mark joked.  He didn’t mean it at all.  This kind of dry humor was just what he needed.  “10 bucks?” he asked, on a more serious note.

Ray shrugged and nodded, but Alan, and even Phil, winced.  “Let’s go with 5,” Alan suggested, and Ray seemed amenable too.

“What, your wife’s tightening the purse strings on you?” Ray goaded.

Phil didn’t reply.  He just looked down and seemed … glum.

The mood in the room started to shift.  “My wife gave me a $20 spending limit tonight,” Phil said eventually.

Mark laughed – until he realized Phil was serious.  “Oh,” Mark said hastily.  “Sorry.  I … thought you were joking.”  He blinked a few times.  “But why would … I mean, don’t you make good money?”

Phil looked at him, then down again, then back to Mark.  “I, uh, quit my job.”

“What??  You quit voluntarily?  How come?”

Alan nudged Mark’s elbow and shook his head.  That surprised Mark most of all.  He looked around, and everyone in the room seemed to know something he didn’t.  “What?” he asked.  “What’s happening?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Alan smoothed over.  “I’m sure there’s better stuff we can talk about, eh?  And as long as Nestor doesn’t play like an idiot, that $20 should last him a while, huh?”

Phil forced a thin smile.  “Let’s play,” he agreed.

The mood gradually became less uncomfortable – but Mark remained perplexed.  What aren’t they telling me??

* * *

He forgot all about it as they got into the game.  Within less than an hour, Mark was up about $8 and feeling good – thanks to the beer, too, of which he’d had three now.  The others were keeping up with him, too.  Before long, the downstairs fridge was empty.

“Deal me out,” Mark told Ray.  “I’ll bring down some more six-packs.”

“I’ll help you,” Nestor offered, standing immediately.

“I should help, too…” Phil chimed in, with a sly grin.

“You guys are never that helpful,” Mark replied, confused.  “I—Oh.”  He put two and two together.  “Screw you guys,” he said with rolling eyes, waving them off.

Nestor and Phil sat back down, and they all laughed except Mark, who grumbled under his breath.  They were all hoping to get a peek at Camilla – well, Nestor and Phil were for sure.  Maybe the others too, for all Mark knew.  But those two in particular had been ribbing him about his ‘hot daughter’ in recent weeks.  It was getting kind of annoying, honestly.

Camilla must have heard him coming up the stairs, because she was already coming to meet him by the stairway door when he opened it – already holding four six-packs, one in each hand and one pressed against each hip.  “You guys run out?  I figured you would.  Hold the door for me?”  Her large frame glided toward him.

“Oh – I’ll get them,” he offered, but Camilla just laughed and brushed past him.  “You really don’t have to go down there,” he insisted.

Camilla stopped two steps down and grinned back at him.  “But what would be the fun in that?”  She winked and kept going.

Oh hell.  The only thing worse than his friends all having a crush on her, was that she already knew about it – and seemed to encourage it at every turn.  It may have been funny to her, but not to him.

“Hey, boys!” she announced at the bottom of the stairs, accompanied by cheers.  When he made it down there, his friends were all ogling her – even the three married ones, Ray, Phil, and Alan.  She smiled and made small talk with each of them – and contact, too; patting their backs, resting her hand on their arms, etc., as she served them beers.  She’s acting like a goddamned Hooters girl, Mark lamented.  Only … I’m not sure even Hooters would have a shirt big enough for her in the chest… Ugh!

He sat down and freely rolled his eyes.  Not that anyone noticed; they were all looking her way still, as she laughed and joked.  I remember when she was a shy, timid book worm, he thought glumly.  And that was just 6 months ago!

She put the remaining beers in the fridge and started up the stairs.  “Wait!” Nestor beseeched.  “Stay for a few hands!”

“Yeah,” added Phil.  “You know how to play?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty good,” she replied matter-of-factly.  “But I dunno …”

“Stay!” Nestor coaxed again.  “See, there’s an extra chair for you.”  He walked over and brought the chair up next to him.  So very helpful of him, Mark thought dryly.

Camilla’s eyes caught Mark’s briefly, but she just grinned.  “Heck, why not.  Just a few hands.”

The mood instantly improved even more as she sat down.  And when she tossed her cardigan off, revealing a tight tank top and a lot of cleavage, the room fairly buzzed with excitement, from everyone but Mark.

Nestor in particular couldn’t stop beaming.  “Here, have some,” he offered almost immediately, holding out his beer to her.

“What a gentleman!” Camilla laughed, patting him on the back.  “But Nestor,” she chided playfully, “I’m only twenty, remember?”

“That’s, um, old enough for me,” Nestor replied, his grin turning almost blatantly suggestive.

Oh, Christ, Mark bemoaned.  Someone needs to cut him off.

No one else even rolled their eyes, though.  “I think you’d better ask your dad for permission,” Ray cut in, laughing at his own joke.  The others all joined in.

Odd, Mark thought.  Shouldn’t she?

With a playful glint in her eye, Camilla took the offered bottle, looked to Mark and asked, “Well, Daddy?  May I?”

His friends were still chuckling.  Why would her asking permission be this funny?  He rolled his eyes for the umpteenth time and said, “Hell, why not.  Go for it.”

Camilla beamed.  She did have a beautiful smile, he had to give her that.  Tossing her long, blonde hair over her shoulder, she tossed her head back and drank.  And drank.  And drank.

“Ahhh…!” she exclaimed, slamming the empty bottle down on the table.  The others loved it; they hooped and hollered and slapped her on the back like she was one of the guys now.  Mark was semi-speechless; to his knowledge, she’d never even drunk a drop of alcohol before in her life.  Well… had she?  She certainly could have, in college – but knowing how introverted and shy she used to be, I guess I had assumed not.  Yet here she was, chugging a nearly-full bottle in one swig, without even batting an eye.  Mark wasn’t sure he could even do that. 

“Well, we all better drink to that!” Phil cheered, and the rest of them immediately assented.  Soon Mark was the only guy without a beer in his hand.  They all goaded him verbally, but it was Camilla’s smirk, mostly – almost like she was playfully challenging him or something – which egged him on.

As they all chugged, she watched him the entire time – and laughed when he gargled a bit toward the end, nearly spitting it all out.  He’d drunk it too fast – for him, anyway.  Camilla seemed amused.

“Want another, babe?” Nestor asked, rising up.  Mark wanted to sock him in the jaw; he was getting more and more annoying.

But suddenly Camilla’s hand fell on Nestor’s shoulder, and he dropped like a rock.  Mark thought he even heard a ‘thud’ when he hit the chair … It happened so fast that Mark didn’t really know what happened.  But he couldn’t have just imagined it, since Nestor’s head whirled toward her and his eyebrows shot way up.  He seemed breathless, but in a very odd way.

Camilla, hand still on his shoulder, said, “I’ll get it,” then leaned in and whispered something in his ear which made his smile widen and eyebrows rise even higher.  Mark swore he saw Camilla’s fingertips swiftly trace up the side of Nestor’s neck, all the way past his ear, as she rose from her seat.

“Anyone else want something?” she asked cheerfully.  The others were either as stunned as Mark was, or maybe just imagining themselves in Nestor’s shoes, because no one answered.  Camilla laughed like she knew why, and answered, “Another round for everyone, it is!  And you S-O-B’s better drink it, too – haha!  All the easier to take your money, that way.”

This brought chuckles and smiles all around, save Mark.  As she passed the new brews around, they all thanked her warmly and continued to smile as she sat back down.  When she realized she didn’t have the money, three of them offered to cover her buy-in all in unison – even Phil, with his wife-imposed spending limit!  Camilla smiled and demurely declined, but Mark grumbled then forked up the money himself and put an end to that.

Camilla folded at least the first dozen hands, either right away or a few times on the flop.  She didn’t seem to care, and appeared less interested in the game than in shooting the breeze and joking around with the guys (and she did fit right in with that, surprisingly).  She hardly seemed to be paying attention at all, really.

She got lucky and won the first time she didn’t fold.  “Oh, that’s me!” she exclaimed, sounding surprised as she raked in the modest pile of chips.  Mark heard the chatter suddenly die down, and realized they were all looking down her cleavage as she bent forward.  Those freaking pigs!  Dammit, guys! 

“Well played, Camilla!” Ray complimented.  He was the one she beat on that hand.  “I’ll drink to that.”

Camilla grinned.  “You’d better!  You know, where I’m from, every time a girl beats you, you gotta drink!”

Ray laughed.  “Sure.  I’m down for that.”  The others shrugged and nodded too – even Mark, for the hell of it.  He doubted it would happen often, the way she plays.

* * *

Oddly, Camilla started playing a lot more after that – and winning.  Much more than she lost.  With the guys taking a swig every time she beat them, they soon seemed too buzzed – and generally distracted by her – to really notice how well she was doing.  In short order, she had the biggest stack of chips at the table.

But Mark saw a pattern: she was bluffing constantly.  Or at least it seemed so.  The other guys didn’t seem to notice – but Mark was watching.  Next time it was down to just him and her, he looked up from his cards and saw Camilla grinning at him confidently.  “What?” he asked.

“Oh … nothin’.  I think I have you beat, is all.”

“Ooooh …” the others joked.

Mark peered into her overconfident eyes and scoffed.  “Well, I think you’re bluffing.  I’ll see your dollar fifty, and raise you two.”  He slid half his remaining pile into the pot.

She was beaming now.  She did seem really confident.  “All in,” she said, with barely a moment’s hesitation.

Her smile widened as he faltered.  Is she bluffing??  He frowned slightly.  I have a pretty good hand, though …

He stuck to his guns.  “You’re gonna regret that,” he said, pushing his remaining three dollars and change into the middle.  Then he slapped down his cards.  “Jack-high straight.  Someone had to call your crap.”

She laughed even louder.  “Oh, did you think I was bluffing?”  She tossed her cards onto his.  “Full house!  Sorry, pops.”  She winked at him as she casually pulled in her winnings – certainly the biggest pot of the evening so far.

He scowled, and ended up focusing his annoyance on her generously-cut top, which really was showing WAYYY too much cleavage, especially with guests over.  And she clearly got lucky with that hand.  And—

“Hey—drink up!” she reminded playfully, pointing to his beer.

He irritably took a sip.

“Hey, you gotta drink the whole beer for that,” Ray chided.  “She cleaned you out, man!”

“Don’t remind me,” Mark grumbled under his breath, as he downed the nearly-full bottle and got up to get himself another.  He sat back down resolutely and slapped another fiver on the table.  “Deal me in – I’m winning my money back.”

He was pretty serious about it, but the guys all cheered flippantly.  Camilla still had that annoying grin on her face.  That pretty grin.  Why was she so pretty?  She used to be sorta plain.  But now she’s … I mean …

He shook that thought out of his head just in time.  Christ, I’m not nearly drunk enough for that!

* * *

Camilla’s pile kept slowly growing.  To her credit, it wasn’t just because she was making everyone else drunk – she was at least keeping up with the drinking, and then some, perhaps.  She’s big, though, Mark thought.  Very big.  Very big, indeed.  He realized too late that he was staring down her shirt again.  Probably the biggest chest I’ve ever—

He shook his head and looked away.  He was bordering on drunk now.  Well, I wouldn’t be, if she didn’t keep cleaning me out!!  The other guys at least had occasional success against her – although she never seemed to lose big, always knowing when to fold.  At least sometimes she did lose.  But against Mark, surely by just dumb, horrible chance, she seemed to beat him every time.  It was getting ridiculous.  He’d gone bankrupt a total of four times now, and each time it was from losing to her.  And that damned smile of hers when she beat him – still so pretty, but still really annoying …

He looked at his few dollars remaining, and at similar stacks among his friends.  They’d all bought in at least a second time by now – Phil a third – but none seemed to mind.  Even though Camilla was sitting over there with almost double what the rest of them had combined; probably close to $50 now.  Never at any previous poker night had one player been so far in the lead.

She was even playing loose with it now, tossing a few extra coins their way here and there, whenever someone beat her or just for the heck of it.  They all found her generosity amusing, and were tickled pink by her increasingly apparent skill in poker, complimenting her endlessly – which she graciously accepted, often with another coin tossed their way for grins.

Well, Mark took no handouts from her.  This is ridiculous! he thought, when she beat him again.  She’s not even supposed to be down here!  And – no offense – but she just a freaking girl!!

“Drink up!” she reminded him yet again.

He almost threw the beer in her face.  He didn’t, but he was still ticked.  “God … such beginner’s luck!!” he exclaimed.  “Unbelievable!”

“Ha – I’m no beginner, Dad.  I play all the time at college.  I told you I’m good, didn’t I?”

“She’s clearly got skill, Mark,” Phil supported.

Oh, shut up, Phil.

“Thanks, Phil,” Camilla praised, patting his back.  She’d done that god knows how many times that night – but nothing compared to with Nestor, though.  Mark swore he saw her hand reach under the table more than a few times; Mark only prayed she was only patting Nestor’s leg and nothing more…

“But how are you this good?” Ray chimed in, genuinely curious.

Camilla beamed, as they started the next hand. “It’s really about reading your opponent,” she explained.  “And picking up on ‘tells’ doesn’t hurt, either.”  The others listened and nodded like she was some goddamned poker pro.

Mark rolled his eyes again.  “What ‘tells’?” he asked, before eyeing his cards.

Camilla smiled.  “For example, Dad, you wrinkle your nose just a little, when you have a bad hand.  On that note … you should probably fold, Daddy.”

His eyes shot up to hers.  He was supremely annoyed; but she was right.  He irritably tossed his cards into the middle, amidst clapping and praise from the guys.  “Damn, that’s impressive!” they complimented.  “I never noticed!”

Mark’s face turned red as he sat back and stewed.  “What’s my tell?” Nestor asked, beside her.  Christ … he was looking at her with almost full-on adoration now.

She laughed.  “You have a bunch, hon.  But I’m not gonna tell you.”  Her eyes sparkled.  “But I’ll tell you one of Phil’s, though …”

“Hey!” Phil protested playfully, as she draped her arm across Nestor’s shoulders and whispered in his ear again.

“Really?” Nestor asked, and Camilla nodded and pulled back.  Her arm remained, though.

Mark’s face reddened, on multiple accounts.  If only she was under 18 again, then he could forbid her from getting so cozy with his friend.  But now, if he tried to forbid it, it’d probably only push her into Nestor’s arms more.  Umm … or him into her arms.  Did I mention she’s big?  Geez, if I were next to her, she could probably drape her arms around me just as easily.  He made the mistake of imagining himself in Nestor’s seat, and picturing the remarkable view down her low-cut blouse …

For God’s sake!! he thought, regretting the alcohol even more now.  Grumpily, he refocused himself and at least made sure not to wrinkle his nose anymore.

It still didn’t help.  His funds slowly dwindled away – and a few rounds later, he found himself facing off against Phil – and Camilla, again.  He watched her casually throw in a few more $1 chips off her stack, to push them both all-in.  “Oh, no honey,” she said kindly, pushing Phil’s chips back toward him as he started to call.  “You’re chasing a straight, right?  The odds are way against you, sweetie.  Here, I’ll refund all your money back if you fold.”

“Wow – thanks!” Phil said, happily tossing his cards in and neatening his stack again.

That idiot!  He didn’t even question it!  Now that it was Mark’s turn, he confidently pushed in his remaining chips – but Camilla likewise told him, “Dad, you have just a 13.7% chance that your full house will hit.”

He was startled.  “How the hell did you—Ack!  It doesn’t matter.  I’m all in.”

“But why?” she asked calmly.

“You bought off Phil, hoping I’d fall for it too.”

“I really just felt bad,” she told him.  “I swear!  Look, I’ll make you the same offer, OK?”  She started divvying out what he’d bet in earlier rounds, to return to him free of charge.

“No!” he exclaimed, pushing back and spilling all his chips into the middle.  “All in.  Show ‘em.”  He revealed his two pair – just as she predicted.

She sighed and showed her ace-high flush.  Ray turned over the river card, but it didn’t help him at all.

He slumped back in his chair, annoyed and thoroughly demoralized.  “You ALWAYS have the best cards,” he complained.  “It’s no fair!”

“No, it only seems that way,” Alan chimed in ‘helpfully’.

“Yeah, Mark,” Phil added, “she just knows when to play and when to fold.”

This only made Mark madder.  “Yeah, well, she’s lucky too.  She’s gotten lucky so many times tonight.”

“But that’s—“

“She’s lucky!” Mark insisted, raising his voice.  “Even if she has some skill, it’s still just, like, 30% skill and 70% luck.  I’m sick of it!”

Camilla’s jaw tightened.  Frankly, she was getting a little sick of him, too.  I know he’s just been laid off, and I guess I should go easy on him, but … heck, does he always have to think he’s better at everything??  He’s been like this my whole life.

She let it slide though, and kept doing what she’d been doing – methodically picking them apart.

Before long, Mark had run through all the cash in his wallet - about six buy-ins worth - and found himself with a decent stack but he was facing Camilla yet again. His attempts to find a pattern in her play had failed repeatedly - every time he thought he had her figured out, she did the exact opposite of what he expected. And 4 times out of 5, it worked out for her.

This time, though, he'd slow played it perfectly and didn't let anyone know he was holding a high pair. He showed just enough hesitation on the turn before placing a bet, and on the river he made it look like he had hit big by grinning and raising right away.

He was totally confident ... until he saw his daughter's smile. "Pocket queens?" she asked slyly.  "That, or pocket kings. I'm guessing queens."

The color drained from his face.  He looked around, trying to see who was watching his cards or where the hidden camera was.  He honestly suspected it. But there was nothing.

He realized she was giggling.  Too late to deny it now. "How could you POSSIBLY have known that?" he demanded. 

She grinned and explained everything. Mark just shook his head. Damn.  "Well, OK, but that doesn't mean YOU have anything. I think ... um ..."

She excitedly leaned forward – holy fuck, that cleavage!!  He actually had trouble focusing now.  "Can you guess?" she taunted. "How's this: if you guess exactly what I have, I'll give you my whole stack."  She spread her hands over the 50-some dollars in front of her.  He was still being a bit of a jerk, so she didn’t mind taunting him like this – he kinda deserved it.  "I'll at least give you the pot if you get close..." she added.

Mark opened his mouth, closed it.  His brain thought furiously, trying to find any visual cues or patterns of play that could help him.

In the end, he threw his hands up.  "I have no fucking idea!" he admitted in exasperation, drawing boisterous laughter from his friends.  "You don't play with any pattern.  You're totally random!"

"It's only SUPPOSED to appear random," Ray identified, looking to her with admiration. "That's how the pros play."

Can it, Ray!!  He ignored that and focused on Camilla.  She stared right back, brimming with confidence.  Her easy smile really made it seem like she was in total control. Such a bizarre feeling, considering this was his little girl.  Well, not so little …

"What'll it be?" she asked, leaning forward more. Somehow, her gaze intensified even further. "Think you got what it takes – hmm??"

He felt like his insides were boiling.  She'd burned him so many times already, always with the upper hand, always in charge.  It was all so confusing – her having the upper hand, always one step ahead, always in control.  And sooo goddamned beautiful!!  Arghh!!!

Mark couldn't take it anymore. He folded his pocket queens in defeat and watched her gleefully rake in the pot, which included over half his remaining chips.

Ray brazenly flipped over Mark's cards.  Mark didn’t even bother stopping him.  "Yep, Camilla, you were right!" Ray announced.

She laughed.  "I already knew that."

To her surprise, Nestor did the same with her cards, revealing a 2 and a 7.  She'd had nothing, not even a pair.

"Hey!" Camilla protested, catching Nestor's wrist.  Nestor was the smallest guy at the table and his arm looked pretty puny next to hers.  "Tsk!  Naughty boy!" she teased.  "Drop it."  He did so, and she whispered something in his ear that REALLY set him aflame.  Her left hand disappeared behind his chair, and suddenly he yelped. Did she just slap his bottom?  What the hell!?

The strange moment was broken when Phil looked at the clock. "Oh – shit!  Shit shit SHIT!!!"

"What?" Alan asked.

"I was supposed to be home ten minutes ago."

Alan's eyes widened slightly. He muttered something that sounded like a curse, under his breath.  To Mark's surprise, the other guys looked just as solemn. 

Mark shrugged.  "Hell, who cares?  Lynn can wait – we're having boys night!"

Phil remained silent.

"What, did you leave your cajones at the door?" Mark joked. 

None of the guys laughed or even smiled.  Camilla broke the silence with a sense of urgency, saying, "We'd better get you home, then.  I'm the soberest here, so I'll drive."

She was barely more sober than Mark or Ray, but she spoke with such authority that no one questioned it. Before Mark could offer his services, Camilla was already standing up and telling Phil, "I've got money in my wallet; I'll cash you out on the way there."  With one quick gesture from her, Phil rose to his feet and followed her to the stairs. 

"Wait!" Ray called out.  "I'd better go home too."

"Oh, did Sarah give you a curfew too?" Camilla asked matter-of-factly. 

"Um, not precisely, but ... she doesn't like when I'm out too late."

Normally, any of this would lead to endless ribbing and teasing from the other guys – but tonight, for some reason, no one even questioned it. "Come with me, too," Camilla instructed – and Alan complied without hesitation. 

Why is everyone treating her like she’s in charge here? Mark wondered. This is NOT normal!  And … curfews!?  What the HELL are they talking about??

"Alan?" Camilla asked next.

Alan shrugged. "I'm OK," he said softly. 

"You sure?"  She suddenly frowned. "Wait - you're not planning to walk home, are you?  It's not safe, at this hour."

Oh, brother! Mark groaned. Not this again. There were a couple reports in the news lately about men being supposedly mugged – or raped! – late at night. By women, if you can believe it. Which Mark frankly didn't. They say some women have surprising strength now, and can overpower men 'easily' ... but I'll believe it when I see it.

"He's only a couple blocks away, Camilla," Mark intoned. "And it's a safe neighborhood."

"That's what all the victims have said.  Hmm ... I don't have room in the car for you."  She clucked her tongue. "Wait here."

She went upstairs. Not a one of them - not even Mark - failed to watch her wide, firm caboose as she ascended. After thirty seconds of strange silence, Camilla returned. "Alan – Carly is on her way now to pick you up.  Dad, could you invite her inside for a drink?"

Mark was starting to lose it.  OK, just what the hell is going on??  She's half everyone's age, but giving all the orders – even to me!!  And why on earth couldn't Alan call his wife by himself?? 

"Dang … I wanted to stay longer," Alan whispered to himself, glumly. Mark barely overheard. But to Camilla, Alan nodded and said, “OK, thanks Camilla.”

What ... the ... HELL!?!

She straightened her shirt by tugging down. All the guys’ eyes – yes, even Mark’s – widened.  "Alright, boys, head on up," she instructed, pointing to Phil and then Ray.  "Oh – and you, too," she added, pointing to Nestor – who, without being given a reason, stood up right away, eagerly.  Camilla shepherded them up the stairs past her, putting her hand on Phil's and then Ray's shoulder in turn - and then on Nestor's bottom, where it lingered.

Mark understood now, and he groaned unhappily. He'd never be able to think of Nestor the same way again. But again, at her age, he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

He looked at how small Nestor was compared to her. He tried not to visualize the two of them … together … in Nestor’s bedroom.  But it was impossible not to.  He even pictured himself as Nestor again, gaping up at her, as she would inevitably peel off her blouse and—

Fuuuuck …

Unexpectedly, once the 'boys' were headed up, she turned and walked across the basement, stepping behind Mark.  Is she getting something back there? She--

Large, long arms draped over his shoulders and encircled his chest. They DID seem really big, up close. Holy hell, he thought, as his ‘imagining’ seemed a lot more real at the moment…

"Sorry to take over your party," she told him sweetly, her cheek brushing against his as she hugged him.  Was it bad that he felt just a little disappointed her chest didn't press into him too?  I've had wayyy too many beers...

"I didn't mean to stay so long,” she added.  “Hope you still had fun, though!  I sure did."

Oh no.  His cock had been giving little twitches most of the night, but now it was really waking up.  Just a normal physiological reaction, he told himself, unconvincingly.

"That's... fine," he replied, trying not to shudder. "I had fun too. And thanks for putting all of this together."

Camilla was delighted that her dad wasn't still sulking. She'd worried that taking his money again that last hand would put him in a foul mood. "You bet, Daddy,” she said warmly.  Since he seemed to be taking things well, she figured now was as good a time as any to drop some more news.  “Hey,” she told him casually, “I forgot to tell you earlier – I got a job today!  It doesn’t pay that well, but it’s well above minimum wage, at least!  I start next week.”

He didn’t say anything.  She felt his body stiffen; he seemed unhappy.  Dang, she thought.  I pushed too far.  I’m eager to tell him more about it – it’s in sales, sorta … and he used to be in sales!  I feel like we could really bond over it … That is, if he doesn’t sulk too long about it.  I know he just lost his job and it’s a sensitive issue, so …

She sighed.  There was nothing more to do right now, so she planted a kiss atop his head and said, “Just wanted to let you know.  Love ya.”

Mark couldn’t stop scowling as she rose up again and walked toward the stairs.  Any other night, he’d probably challenge her on this – Why does she need a job already?  I thought she was taking a few months off to recuperate from college.  She shouldn’t be working yet!  But it was yet another in a series of sucker-punches to his ego tonight, and he wasn’t quite ready to confront this issue yet.  My head’s swimming enough as it is, he thought, as he tried and failed to look away from her large, curvy backside stuffed in those tight pants.

He was a mess now, staring just as naughtily as Alan was, as she walked away.  He wondered how HE would have handled sitting next to her all night – the constant touching, the incredible view...

"Oh, and don't wait up," she told Dad, over her shoulder. He blinked and looked up at her just in time to see her wink.  "But i think you knew that."  

He knew she wasn’t trying to be sexy – not for him – but the combination of that wink, that suggestive smile, her curvy backside … the visuals of her overly developed body descending on scrawny little Nestor …

His dick was raging hard now.  He wished he could make it stop …

Camilla disappeared up the stairs.  Mark turned to Alan – and at least Mark snapped out of it quicker than his friend.  Alan suddenly blinked and looked at him.  "Sorry," he said.

"For what?" Mark replied, feigning ignorance.

"Nothing."

Mark drank another sip, hastily changing the subject.  "OK," he asked, "what the hell was all that about??  Curfews and such??"

Alan winced.  "It's nothing."

"It's not nothing!"

"Don't ask."

"What?"

"Seriously – don't ask."

"Why not??  You don't think I'll like what I hear?"

They heard a knock upstairs. Alan took another big swig. "That’s not why," he said, not looking Mark in the eye.  After another swig, he admitted in a low voice, "I'm not supposed to tell."

Mark did a double take, as his friend - possibly his best friend - got up to leave. Mark's head swam as he trailed Alan to the front door, where his tall wife was waiting.

"Hi, Alan," Carly greeted curtly, patting her husband's shoulder – rather like Camilla had, but not as friendly.  Carly seemed put off with him, probably about some dispute earlier that day, Mark guessed.  Odd, since Alan and his wife almost never fought, in the time Mark had known him.

Mark got a strange chill as Carly lifted her gaze to him.  Something in her demeanor troubled him.  He and Carly usually got along well, but …

"Hello, Mark," she said blandly, looking a good ways down at him.  He frowned.  She has high heels on – at this hour??  It made Mark feel even smaller and contributed to the odd feeling in his gut.

 He gulped without meaning to. "Hi, Carly," he croaked.  "Um ... can I get you a drink?"  He told himself he only asked this out of courtesy - not because Camilla asked him to.

"No, thank you.  We'll be going now."

Alan started to open his mouth and wave a farewell, but his wife was already steering him around and leading him away, not even giving him a chance to say goodbye. Carly is taller than Alan – but surely not stronger than him, right?  At least, they seem to have about the same build and muscle, at a glance.  Why would Alan let her lead him around like that?

This was all so confusing.  Alone now, he went down to finish his beer, then back up to get ready for bed. None of this made any sense at all.

* * *

Camilla noticed Phil's hands fretting nervously in the passenger's seat.  "Don’t worry," she consoled, patting his shoulder. "I'll talk to Lynn and explain that it's my fault you’re coming home late."

"But—"

"I think she'll listen to me. Just try to relax, honey."

"Yes, Camilla," he replied meekly. 

Camilla sighed sympathetically and increased the car's speed. A little faster won't hurt – I’m not sure how forgiving actually his wife is…

She heard Ray and Nestor murmuring to each other in the back seat. "No talking, please," she requested bluntly, making eye contact through the mirror.

They straightened up right away.  "Yes, Camilla," Ray replied.

"Sorry, Camilla," Nestor added.

"It's fine.  I just prefer silence while I drive."

Camilla smiled pleasantly, seeing the four grown men sitting quietly, all with their hands politely folded in their lap.  Ever since she’d switched to a more serious demeanor in the last few minutes, they had all responded beautifully.  None of them had to be told to stop joking anymore, or to listen closely, or any of that.  They simply sensed her change of tone and knew to adapt, without needing coaching.

It was only recently that she'd been privy to some of the inner workings of the new family and social structures that were developing all around them, and she VERY much liked what she'd seen so far.  The new way of doing things made so much sense to her, on a deep, intrinsic level.  She still had much to learn, and she couldn't wait!

When they reached Lynn's house, Camilla was delighted when Lynn granted her request for a private audience, pulling Camilla aside out of her husband’s hearing.  And Lynn, despite being twice Camilla’s age, seemed to treat her like an equal!  "Yes, Camilla?" she asked warmly.  "What did you want to speak about?"

"I'm entirely to blame for Phil being late. Between encouraging them to keep drinking, to causing distractions, and so on – it's my fault."

Lynn chuckled. "We both know you're NOT entirely to blame – barely at all, really.  But it's sweet of you to say so."

Camilla couldn't help but smile.  She likes Lynn a lot, and admired her greatly.  They'd interacted a few times lately, and Camilla hoped that trend continued.

"Well," Camilla admitted, "all the same, I promised Phil I'd vouch for him."

"Did you, now?  Hahaha!  That's very thoughtful. I can't say it'll actually make a difference – he's an adult, and responsible for his own actions – but if you'd like, I'll tell him you talked me down from a steeper punishment."

"You will?"

"Hell, why not?"

"That's great!  He likes me already, but this could only help."

Lynn sling her arm around Camilla's shoulder and laughed.  "Girl, he ADORES you.  I can see it in his eyes."  Lynn chuckled.  “He’s quite taken with you, I think …”

Camilla grimaced.  "You're not mad?  That he, you know, stares at me quite a bit...?"  She subconsciously pulled up on her neckline, worried that her questions had crossed a line.

But Lynn only laughed.  "He can stare all he wants!  Hell, even flirt with you, for all I care.  I know he'd never actually act on his little impulses.  And I know you certainly wouldn't do anything, either."

"Whew ... that's a relief!  And you're right – I certainly wouldn't!"  She smiled comfortably.  "So, can I ask: what ARE you going to do about your husband's tardiness? I'm just trying to learn how this all works."

"No problem!  I'll most likely just tell him I'll deal with him in the morning.  Make him sweat it out.  Honestly, that's often more effective than the actual punishment.  He'll generally assume it's worse than it actually is.  Ultimately, I'll just assign him some extra chores or revoke his next outing or something."

"Wow, cool!  I never would have thought of making him wait as a form of punishment in itself. I'll remember that."

"Sure.  It could be quite useful on Mark."

“Yeah, it—wait … WHAT!?!“  Camilla gasped.  "I... I just meant, I’d remember it for when I have a … a boyfriend someday – not my DAD!  Gosh!  I ... I..."

"You never thought of that?"

"Well, sure, I mean, it crossed my mind ... but I never actually considered it!  I mean, isn't that, like, over the line?"

Lynn just shrugged. She seemed surprisingly non-opposed to it.  "Men are men. You didn't expect him to remain head of the house forever, did you?"

Camilla went pale.  "I assumed he'd eventually find a woman to be with, and SHE'D be the one who ... Oh gosh ..."

Lynn laughed and patted her shoulder again. "Think it over.  You don't have to decide anything yet."

Camilla thanked her profusely but remained incredibly flustered as she headed out. "Bye, Phil," she said, but barely noticed when he did a terrible job of hiding his ogling.  She was too distracted.

The boys were still sitting silently when she got back in the car. For some reason, now, it made her ... wet ... just thinking about them being meek and submissive for her. She was attracted to little Nestor, in a strange, backwards way – I used to prefer tall, strong guys! – but even Ray, whom she wasn't physically attracted to, turned her on now, in his own way. Just the thought of being SUPERIOR to him, and him realizing that too...man, that's hot!!  It's like how I felt when squaring off against Dad in poker, and seeing him realize how helplessly outmatched he was against me ... that look of defeat in his eyes...

A car honked. Camilla swerved back into her lane just before hitting it. "Shit!" she exclaimed, correcting her course and breathing very hard – but not so much from the driving...

Oh God, she realized, I'm turned on by my dad. ... Well, not by HIM directly, just by what I DID to him.

She had no idea how to react to that information. But one look back at Nestor settled her mind. She permitted her hand to rub her crotch just briefly as she pressed the gas pedal and accelerated to borderline dangerous speeds.

"Umm ... C-Camilla?" Ray ventured, appearing nervous.

Camilla shot a glare at him and felt goosebumps when he fell immediately, obediently silent.  SO ... FUCKING ... HOT!!

They got to Ray’s house in no time.  She hardly waited for Ray to close the door as she pulled out of his driveway.  "Where do you live?" she asked Nestor hoarsely.

"W ... White Avenue and Melrose," her little passenger replied, oh so meekly.  He seemed frightened by her behavior as well. Excellent …

She did a mental calculation - his house was at least five miles away.  I can’t last that long.  She screeched the car to a halt on the shoulder.  "Front seat – NOW," she commanded, with fire in her eyes. She'd never seen anyone run so quickly or frightenedly as little Nestor.

As she peeled out, she took his hand and guided it to the button of her jeans. "Don't be afraid," she instructed. "Show me what your hand can do..." 

She heard the zipper coming down, then felt his tiny little hand slide past her pubes, finding his target immediately. Good, she thought. He knows his way around.  Good ... good ... HOLY FUCK, that's good...

She moaned and bucked and kept just enough attention on the road as she drove to his home. Once inside, she ripped his shirt to shreds and gave the soft, slender little man a night he wouldn't soon forget.