No! You're not going to apologize for checking her out.

“The issue isn’t that you’re dressing slutty, Jessie,” I explained, trying to be diplomatic but ending up probably saying too much. “I think you’ve got an absolutely incredible body, and I don’t blame you for wanting to show it off. I totally respect your right to enjoy your femininity without feeling like an exhibit at the zoo, even though, as I guess you picked up on, I find it hard not to check you out when you’re dressed so revealingly.”

Marisa snorted, and I didn’t even have to look at her to know she was rolling her eyes. This would be a good time to shut up, Mike, I knew she was thinking. But I pushed on, feeling an unexpected need to stick up for myself and be clear with Jessica.

“What I’m saying is, I don’t think there’s anything slutty about showing off your body in your own home like this. But it’s not fair to me to expect me to stop being a horny teenage guy just because you’re asserting yourself as an attractive woman.”

As soon as it was out of my mouth, I regretted using the word “horny.” It was just a little more explicit than I usually was around my stepsisters--talking about sex in general was fine, but talking about ourselves as sexual? That was still taboo between me and them.

The danger with being inappropriate around Jessica wasn’t that she’d get offended, it’s that she absolutely hated it whenever someone else was being more daring about defying social norms than she was. She felt like she was the edgiest boundary breaker in town, and she wasn’t about to let anyone break the rules more than she did. As soon as I saw her grin, I knew I was in trouble.

“So you’re saying that it’s not slutty for me to show off my breasts around you like I am in this shirt, Mike?” Jessie’s brown eyes were glittering with mischief, and I knew she was making fun of me. “What about if I took off my shirt and was only painting in a bra? Would it still be ok for me to ‘assert myself as an attractive woman,’ or would that be too slutty for my stepbrother?”

I know from the sarcasm in her voice that Jessica was taking control of the situation by trying to make me feel uncomfortable. It wasn’t working, of course, because she was (out of modesty?) underestimating what a hottie she was. I mean, Jessie painting in her bra, with those incredible mammaries on display? Hell yes! Except that wasn’t really the sort of thing I’d ever say to Jessie. Usually, when she tried to prove she was cooler and more daring than I was, I just backed down to let her feel good about herself.