Around the table, all women, all friends, several drinks into a proper evening. Scattered around the city, their boyfriends and husbands, blissfully unaware of the trouble that was being hatched. On lipsticked lips, a question, manifested out of shared frustration with the shortcomings of men:
How long could they hold out if we all withheld sex?
They laughed and cackled and slapped the table, smearing makeup as they wiped away tears. Then another question, a single thought simultaneously imagined in every mind present:
What could we make them do?
Each one of them, stirring at a different time the next morning, all equally hungover but each with the same sly smile on their faces.