Sweet the sting

Lynette leaned back into her oversized couch with her arms stretched out along the back, glass of white zinfandel in her right hand, and sighed. Why all the love songs? She wasn't sure she could stand another. No matter what she listened to, it all reminded her of...Bree. Not Tom. Lynette nodded. That was one thing at least. She wasn't pining over her loss of Tom. He had left a couple of days before; the kids had gone to his parents until they got everything sorted.

And now she sat here in her living room, her clean, quiet living room, alone. And she didn't miss him. She did miss Bree.

Who was out on a date with George.

Lynette growled and refilled her glass.

She flipped the station again. Stevie Nicks. Melissa Etheridge. Bonnie Raitt. What she wouldn't give right now for some Alice in Chains. She switched over to the CD player.

By now, she had finished three glasses and was more than a little relaxed. And then on came Tori Amos. The "Beekeeper" CD. The exact CD that always made her hormonal.

"What the hell," she thought, as she turned it up and drained her glass. Pretty soon she would be too inebriated to do anything about her hormones anyway.

The doorbell sounded. Lynette closed her eyes, opened them, and stood up from the couch. Bree's outline shone in the half-light on the porch. As if on cue, "Sweet the Sting" began playing through her living room. Lynette ran a hand through her hair and opened the door.

Bree looked beautiful, of course, all curls and alabaster skin and a slinky black dress.

Lynette smiled. "How did it go?"

Bree whispered, "I do not want...to date George. Or any other man."

And leaned in to kiss Lynette.