Chapter One - The Kiss

Gabrielle Solis tasted like sin. Sweet, sticky lipgloss, a breath of red wine, and pure, unfiltered sin.

Tom Scavo stared at his ceiling fan, watching each blade spin lazily in succession, trying to will himself back to sleep. It was impossible. Despite the four beers he'd thrown back at the Van de Kamp's, Tom was wide awake.

His wife, Lynette, slept next to him soundly, her breathing labored, back turned toward him, unaware of her husband's racing mind. Tom preferred it to stay that way. If Lynette knew he was thinking about his kiss with Gabrielle, she'd be furious. That's not to say she wasn't already furious about what happened, but Tom would wait for that argument to surface in the morning.

He knew it was wrong, but as hard as he tried he couldn't stop thinking of how Gaby tasted. How her lips felt against his own, how her hands felt against his face, passionate and eager. How she tilted her head upwards to kiss him deeper, and he found himself so lost in her that he returned the favor.

They broke apart with a pop, and he could feel all the blood in his body rush to his face, relieved it hadn't traveled to another part of his body. He tried to play it off, like a silly joke between friends but when he looked at his wife a moment later, he knew she'd seen it too.

The kiss revealed something he'd been fighting back for a long time. He was attracted to Gaby. What warm-blooded man wasn't?

He wanted to feel bad. He wanted to feel guilty. He wanted to forget any of this ever happened, but based on how he was feeling tonight, he knew wishing it away wouldn't be so easy.

Tom sat up in bed, careful not to disturb Lynette as he swung his legs over the side. The digital clock read 12:58, and he groaned knowing how tired he would be for the rest of the day.

Tom made his way down the stairs, careful to miss the creaky step in the middle so as not to wake the kids, and headed into his office. The office in the Scavo household was small, but it was his. A space where he could be alone, lock the door, and never worry about being walked in on. A space where there were no toys, no bottles, no spit-up rags, bibs, or dirty diapers. Sure, it was also crammed full of unread mail and golf magazines, but Lynette probably wouldn't give him shit for that for at least another few weeks.

On the side table near the door, he had compiled some of the finer liquor he and Lynette had gotten as gifts or splurged on for special occasions. He chose a Macallan 15 and poured a generous amount of the amber liquid into a glass positioned nearby for just this occasion. A nightcap was bound to help him sleep a little better.

He sat in his chair and took a long swig. The whiskey burned traveling down his throat, but he enjoyed the flavor nonetheless. For years Tom had pretended to like whiskey, a show he'd needed to put on at work, always wishing he had a cold beer instead. But in the past few years, he'd truly come to appreciate whiskey. An acquired taste, much like everything else that came along with being an adult. The kids. The house. Being married. Being with one woman for the rest of his life.

That was why he was getting so damn worked up about this whole thing with Gaby. Admiring another woman from afar was one thing, but after all these years, feeling another woman's touch, her lips, the way she smelled...it was driving him wild. The simplicity of it made him feel silly, yet he continued to dwell over every excruciatingly glorious second of their interaction.

He was suddenly very glad nobody was around to see the excitement that stirred beneath his pajama bottoms. Quickly, he took another sip of his whiskey.

The night on Wisteria Lane was so dark, that when a light turned on at the far end of the street, it caught Tom's attention immediately. The thin curtains that hung over the wide window distorted the houses he knew were there, but there was no mistaking where the light came from. The large yellow house at the end of the street was easily definable.

Tom stood before he even realized what he was doing. From the window, he could see most of the street, a view he had normally come to appreciate from his porch, usually in the daytime, in full view of others. Doing it now, in the dark, felt mischievous. A little wrong, but not entirely unpleasant. The peeping Tom reference was not lost on him and he stifled a giggle.

Still, he was entranced by the fact that someone, most likely Gaby, was also awake at this time of night at the Solis house. He toyed with the possibility that Gaby was awake, at this very moment thinking about their kiss.

And although he didn't know it yet, he was absolutely right.