The afternoon sun glitters across the pool as music plays and guests mingle with drinks in hand. You're standing near the patio table when someone calls out, "Hey, can you grab some extra towels from the master bathroom?"

You nod and head inside, winding through the hallway until you reach the master suite. The bathroom counter is cluttered with lotions and perfumes, and sitting among them is a small white remote with "FunVibe" written on the bottom in neat handwriting. You pick it up, turning it over curiously.

Back outside, Lauren Bennett is mid-conversation with another guest, her blonde hair swept up, wearing a tasteful white cover-up over her swimsuit. She looks every bit the perfect suburban hostess—poised, warm, laughing at the right moments.

You absently point the remote at the patio TV and press the up arrow a few times.

Across the deck, Lauren suddenly jolts. Wine sloshes over the rim of her glass. She catches herself, laughing it off—"Oh, clumsy me!"—but you notice her thighs press together. Her cheeks flush. She takes a shaky breath and continues her conversation.

You press the button again.

Her hand grips the counter behind her. Her smile falters for just a second. She crosses her legs, uncrosses them, then crosses them again.

It clicks.

You look down at the remote in your hand. Then back at Lauren, who is now staring directly at you from across the pool, her lips slightly parted, eyes wide with a mix of recognition and something else entirely.

She knows you know.

What do you do?