Red Garter +18

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Trying to close the buckle, the young girl let out her breath in distress and muttered to herself.

"What a hard job this is, mate."

She breathed a sigh of relief when she barely got the buckle in place with her fingernails and looked at her messy self in the mirror. No, I mean, was it worth it to look sexy? She was happy in her beautiful cotton underwear with floral patterns on it. Where had this garter come from?

Of course, it was her best friend Demre who made her wear these difficult things. The words she had said casually the other day when they were tipsy had really exploded in her head now. When she came home today, the young girl, who planned to take a shower and then go to bed with the tiredness of working, opened the door of her room and saw a red underwear set hanging on the hanger. Thinking that one of Demre's stylists had brought it to the wrong room, she had taken the garter to Demre's room with strange looks, but the message sent by her best friend as if she had seen it was enough to remind her why she found it in her room.

From whom? Demre

- Do you like the present I got you?

It was written in the message. Such a gift was expected from Demre that the young woman was not surprised when she saw the gift.

Sender: Hamra

- I think you bought it for yourself, but you're giving it to me because it's not for you.

Sent by Demre

- I had it flown in from France just for you. That's why it took so long. I won't be home today. Put it on and send me a sexy photo.

Hamra thought about not wearing it at first, of course, but then, under the influence of the threats she had received, she found herself in front of the mirror struggling with the clasp of her garter belt. She let out her breath and tried to run her fingers through her dark red hair, which was beginning to flush, but in vain. Meanwhile, her eyes fell on the red, pure lace suit she was wearing. He was looking at the dark red underwear that seemed designed to show rather than hide the intimate details of her body. The bra covered only as much area as the lace could. It slid gracefully up her shoulders and crossed diagonally behind her back. Her panties might have been the most uncomfortable looking, useless panties she had ever worn in her life. It was a piece of lace-embroidered fabric in the style of a thong, but with a minimum of fabric used and a V-shaped cleavage in the front. The garter she wore around her waist was stretched with strings that she had barely threaded through and tied inside her stockings.

Admittedly, it was the first time she had seen herself so feminine in the mirror. Her long legs seemed longer and her body more shapely with a few scraps of fabric. For a moment she couldn't help feeling angry with herself for wearing plain underwear every time. So what, she didn't need to show someone she was wearing them. After all, it felt good to see herself like this in the mirror. "Demre knows how to do this," he thought. It was nice that her friend, who had done so much, was now an expert in these matters, but it felt strange for a moment that she herself was so unfamiliar with this subject.

Hamra did not know much about men or dressing for them. Dressing for herself wasn't much of a problem for her either. A plain t-shirt and jeans were always enough to save her. Her best friend Demre was very different from her. Although they had been inseparable for sixteen years, their lifestyles and perspectives had never been on the same line. The more active Demre was in her social life, the more asocial Hamra became. The more Demre was involved with men, the more Hamra wanted to be alone. Maybe this was what pushed them to live under the same roof for years. The fact that they complemented each other was enough for them to survive in this lonely life.

Demre had lost his family in a traffic accident when he was only thirteen years old. His older brother, whom he had never seen before and who was eight years older than him, took custody of him and tried to raise him with carers. Although it was difficult for Demre to be raised by his older brother whom he had never met, he could not always be angry with his parents who gave their son to another family because they could not take care of him in time. Although it was hard for him to be a stranger to his brother in this period of time when he was alone, after a while he got used to this loneliness thanks to Hamra, because the two friends learned to hold on to each other at a young age and started to act together. Hamra was not as lucky as Demre. Although they were family friends, the young girl did not have a wealthy older brother to support her at that time. When her parents divorced, Hamra's custody was given to her mother, who easily forgot that she had a daughter and left the little girl to her own devices. The two little girls somehow grew up together during this time.

Hamra learnt the difficulties of working and earning money at a young age, Demre socialised with the easy life given by his older brother, but they always told each other what they did in the evening, they shared their lives. When they turned eighteen, Hamra's mother threw him out of the house and Demre started to live alone. The two friends started to live under the same roof, but nothing much changed in their lives; Hamra studied hard and got a full scholarship to a good university, while Demre studied at a school of his brother's choice. After school, Hamra worked part-time jobs to earn pocket money, while Demre made a name for himself in the nightlife and drifted from place to place. They were now twenty-one years old. There was no difference in their lives, which had progressed in the same way for years. Hamra would come home from work and go to bed to relieve her tiredness, while Demre would spend the night at someone else's house and never intend to return home. The young girl, who thought that she would die from the boredom of her monotonous life without Demre's craziness, examined herself in the mirror for a long time.

Yes, she liked it. She could not deny it. The suit she was wearing made her feel so daring and brave that every woman would want to see herself in front of the mirror, but she still didn't expect it to happen for a long time, let alone wear it in front of someone. She went to the dressing table to collect her unruly hair and took her comb and started combing it. While she was working on her hair, she couldn't help being surprised at the knocking door for a moment.

  "I thought this girl wasn't coming?" she couldn't help laughing. "Of course she was curious," the woman said, "Come!" 

The young girl was combing her hair with her back to the door when the door opened and she heard footsteps coming in. 

"You couldn't resist, could you? I was combing my hair so you wouldn't say anything." Having said that, she put her comb back on the table and turned round with a smile and asked cheerfully "How do I look?" but her voice trailed off towards the end because the person she saw in front of her was definitely not her petite best friend.

Standing in front of the young girl was a tall, burly man. The emerald greens that caught her eye even from the distance between them made her shudder in surprise.

Who was this man and why was he still looking at her?