When Lynette comes, her voice is airy and light. When Bree hears the sighs and gasps, it sounds as though all the burdens have been lifted for that one moment of pure ecstasy, and she smiles. Wherever they are, be it Lynette's back garden wall as the trees cover their adultery or Bree's cramped utility room where the walls are slightly thicker, her breath quickens in rapid pants and her skin glows with coital pleasure. Bree's eyes trace over the woman shuddering beneath her, and she's not sure whether the heavy breathing is just Lynette's anymore. No-one has ever reacted to her like this, no-one has ever lost control under her touch like Lynette.
"Oh God," Lynette's breath is coming faster now, her eyes flutter shut and her body twists and turns like nothing Bree has seen, "Oh God," She repeats again, as Bree works her fingers with surprising precision, "Oh God, oh God..." Her hands reach to Bree's head, pulling her down to mash their lips together. Through her tongue, she can taste the carrots she had for dinner, and the spearmint toothpaste and the instant coffee that Lynette drinks like a drug. She tastes this amazing woman beneath her who has brought out something she never though possible. She continues to press down, to tease with quickly gained experience, and Lynette's breath is shallow. She desperately whispers to all the deities she can think of as a flood of pleasure washes over her like a wave, "Oh God," She sighs again, "God, I love you..." The words come almost as an afterthought as Lynette's body relaxes, her panting lungs regaining their usual rhythm. Her heavy lids snap open at the realisation of what the words she spoke at the peak of ecstasy, and in the darkness of the temporarily empty house, Bree's eyes glisten with something close to tears.
This has become too real. This is no longer a secret dalliance to be pushed away in their minds like the frustration with their lives or the urge to be something more than what they are, this has been brought to reality and the words can no longer be locked in a box in the back of their minds.
The facade of pretending their affair was only an escape from the suburban horrors of normality was shattered like glass, the remnants blown away by the harsh wind of truth. Before either could analyse the consequences of Lynette's inadvertent slip, honest or not, Bree backed away, pushing the strands of loose hair behind her ears.
"The kids will be home soon," She tells her lover, with a quick gaze to the moon which sees everything.
Lynette knows its a lie, but she accepts it with a nod, buttoning her trousers and walking from the room, careful to miss the propped up broom and dustpan that sit by the door, in case of any domestic emergencies. It wasn't supposed to be like this. She reaches the door, her eyes avoiding the painful family portraits on the wall. She unlocks the door without feeling for a light, she remembers how to tackle the lock in the dark. She has done it too many times, fleeing her neighbour's house before anyone can see her dash to her own home, rescuing the babysitter.
"I..." Lynette begins, but its no use. The door has closed behind her, and all that stares back at her is her own reflection in the perfectly polished glass. She wanders back home, and curses the world.
Inside Number 54 of Wisteria Lane, the home of the Van De Kamps where the perfect mother maintains a perfect life, tears fall down her ivory cheeks and her body crumples to the floor as she leans against the door for support. Mascara runs, and her lipstick is smeared, but for once she doesn't care.
It wasn't supposed to be like this.
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