We finally got the last piece down, her arms full of dripping clothes, and rushed back inside. She slammed the door shut against the wind and rain, locking it with shaking hands. We stood there in the kitchen doorway, both drenched, breathing hard, water pooling at our feet.
"God, we are both drenched," Melanie said, putting the soaked laundry into the basket and looking at us both with a small, breathless laugh. Rainwater still streamed down her face and neck, plastering dark strands of hair to her cheeks and shoulders.
Her sundress was completely transparent now, thin cotton turned sheer by the downpour, clinging to every curve like wet silk. The dark outline of her bra and panties showed clearly beneath, lace patterns visible against her skin, nipples stiff and dark, the faint shadow of her trimmed bush visible through the soaked panties.
"Yeah, Aunt," I said—right before a sudden sneeze escaped me, sharp and unexpected, from the cold shock of the rain.
