The first time Natalie realized something was different about her roommate, she had just come home early from class. The apartment was unusually quiet, save for the muffled hum of music behind the closed bedroom door. At first, she thought nothing of it, until she caught a glimpse through the barely open crack.
Her roommate, Jasmine, was on the bed, phone balanced carefully on a tripod. She was in lingerie, red lace that clung to her curves like liquid fire, her skin glowing under the soft ring light. Jasmine’s lips parted, a breathy moan escaping as she arched her back for the camera.
Natalie froze. Her pulse spiked, heat rushing to her cheeks. She knew she should turn away, pretend she hadn’t seen. But her feet wouldn’t move. Instead, she found herself watching, transfixed. Jasmine was
