This is their dangerous game

No promises were ever made. They never made proclamations of love or committment. There were no candlelit dinners or walks in the park in the fall, wrapped in each other's arms. She never dressed up in lingerie or fluttered her eyelashes over morning coffee. They never woke up together.

But all Lynette knew was that when Bree looked at her in that way, as if no other person existed apart from her, she didn't need hearts or flowers. And that was just fine.

There was always that part of her that wanted more. That wanted a life outside of children, the suburbs and domesticity. Her business life had been an adrenaline rush, had made people see her as being someone other than a woman or a daughter or a sister, and saw her as competent and competitive. Then Tom had decided upon a family, and suddenly it had all dissipated. Her energy had been transferred from the boardroom to a nursery and that was her life. When Bree touched her, or spoke to her in the dead of night as they sat in her kitchen, filled with colourful squeaky toys, she felt a shiver down her spine. Often they sat in silence, their hands joined over the table, and Lynette wondered what the hell she was doing, and why the job she'd loved for years never felt as good as that moment when all she could see was Bree.

Of course, it was all too good to last. Because in Wisteria Lane, there were no such things as secrets. You knew your next door neighbours, and their children and their extended family, their cousins twice removed. Yet Lynette was still surprised when during their weekly poker game, Susan cornered her in the kitchen as Gabrielle and Bree sat in the living room, drinking gin and dealing the cards again.

"Are you going to help me with this or are you just going to stand there?" Lynette winced as she touched the hot plate from the microwave, tranferring the pizza from the appliance to a decorative plate, minus several chips of porcelain around the edges.

"What are you doing?"

"Trying to make some edible food. Without your help, evidently." Lynette answered, running her reddened finger under the cold water. Susan continued to stare at her, stony faced, "What?"

"You and Bree," She edged closer, her voice quietening, "I know."

Lynette's blood ran cold in her veins, her heart pumping so loudly in her chest that she was convinced the whole neighbourhood would be at her front door to complain. "What about us?"

"Don't play that game with me. You think I'm blind?"

"Susan, I have no idea wha-.."

"I hope you know what you're doing," Her friend interrupted, "Because whatever is happening between you two has the potential to hurt a lot of people. But I'm guessing you already know that."

Silence. She could hear the dim sound of the television in her front room, and the voice of Gabrielle revealing some suburban gossip to Bree, her voice cutting in with the expected interest at the appropriate places.

"I have no idea what I'm doing." Lynette uttered quietly, holding the dish towel in her hands, picking at the loose thread like a guilty child being reprimanded by her mother and she looked up through her glasses, "All I know is I can't stop."

"Then you have to work out what you want. Whether this is worth risking your marriage, worth risking everythng you have, for." Susan paused, turning towards the kitchen door to rejoin their friends, "And...if it is, then...I hope you're happy." She sighed, "I really do."

"You're not....?"

"Shocked? Appalled?" Susan offered, "No, its funny but I'm really not."

*

And so it is. It's getting more dangerous. Seconds, minutes, and days pass. And she's still there. In her kitchen in the dead of night, they sit. And wait for the day that this won't be a secret anymore.

[Even out of view, still I love all of you]