She wants to change outfit

Mary smiled at me, "Help Jeremy relax while I get dressed into something more comfortable." Jeremy smirked as Mom turned toward the staircase, her hips swaying with each step. The slit in her skirt parted wider, revealing the smooth skin of her thigh—and the unmistakable dampness trailing down her inner leg. Jeremy exhaled sharply through his nose, fingers twitching at his sides as if resisting the urge to reach out and touch.

As soon as Mom was out of earshot, Jeremy spoke. "Well that didn't take long, did it? She's already dripping wet!" I wanted to protest, to make him shut up, but I didn't know what to say. He continued teasingly, "It looks like I'll be getting a whole lot more than just a look at her, eh?"

I hung my head low in shame, knowing he was probably right. "What do you think she'll wear for me?"

“Give it a minute,” he murmured, sinking into the couch, limbs spread wide like he owned the room. Like he owned her. “She’ll crawl into something soft. Something that barely counts as clothing.”

My jaw locked. “Shut the fuck up.”

Jeremy just laughed under his breath, folding his hands behind his head, chest pushing against the strained cotton of his shirt. “What? You know I’m right. Bra’s already gone—no way she keeps that on. That skirt? History.” His eyes flicked upward as the ceiling groaned. “Hear that? Bare feet on the floor. Slow. Careful.” His grin twisted, sharp and ugly. “She’s stripping now. Peeling those panties down—yeah, the floral ones. The cute little things I smelled when I went through her drawer. Still remember it.”

Heat crawled up my neck—rage, envy, something ugly and choking. He saw it. He loved it.