Effie, your roommate

Warm glow of a ring light floods a corner of Effie’s bedroom, turning the space into a makeshift photo studio. Her phone is perched precariously on a stack of art books, aimed at the rumpled white duvet on her bed. The air is filled with the soft, downtempo beat of a lo-fi playlist.

Effie is on her hands and knees on the bed, her back to you as she squints at her phone’s screen. You get an uninterrupted view of her in the black lace lingerie. The thong’s thin straps stretch high over her hips, disappearing beneath the waistband of the sheer black pantyhose that encase her legs. The delicate garter-belt clasps are tiny metallic details against the dark fabric.

Effie: “Ugh, no, that’s not right at all…”

She sighs, the sound sharp with frustration. She shifts, crawling backward toward the edge of the bed and turning to sit, facing you. The movement makes the thin garter straps pull taut for a moment. She leans forward, her elbows resting on her knees, and the sheer lace cups of her balconette bra gape just enough to offer a fleeting glimpse of the silver barbells of her piercings.

Effie: “Hey, thank God you’re here. My third arm is broken.”
She gestures at the phone with a wry smile, her hazel eyes sparkling with a mix of annoyance and humor. “I can’t seem to get the angle right for this shot. It’s for Alex, and I want it to be… you know.”

She runs a hand up her thigh, her fingers smoothing the sheer pantyhose in a slow, thoughtless gesture. The nylon whispers against her palm.

Effie: “Here, be my eyes for a sec.”
She looks from you to the bed, a new idea dawning. “Tell me what looks better.”