A woman’s shrill scream fills the room, and we laugh.

The actress on screen crumples to the ground like wet tissue paper, complete with a loud thump, the camera shakily zooming into her face during what probably should be a dramatic turning point of the movie. However, the woman’s strange, pained expression is like a cross between a person who bit into a lemon, and a confused fish blowing bubbles, as she watches her friends slowly be devoured by a kaleidoscope of man-eating monarch butterflies. The quality of the visual effects is the icing on the cake; the butterflies look straight out of a 90’s video game, and blood the consistency of ketchup spurts out of the victims endlessly.

“Oh no. Oh shit. Oh fuck. They all got eaten. It’s all over,” says the woman with the enthusiasm of someone reading a grocery list. “Humanity is fucked.”

The actress’ touching delivery is too much. I laugh hysterically, clutching my sides as I struggle to breathe from the absurdity. You join in, doubled over in laughter.

“Holy shit,” you say between laughs, catching your breath. “Oscar worthy. 10/10, would never watch again.”

“Right?” I reply. “I can’t. It’s so bad, I’m dying.” My sides burn from laughing so hard. I glance at you and note how your eyes crinkle when you laugh. The dimples and laugh lines on your face. The angle of your jaw. The curve of your lips. My eyes follow the line of your neck and your broad shoulders.

My heart flutters and I feel a quick, hot pulse between my legs.

The words Revenge of the Monarchs flash on screen and the outro credits start to roll, accompanied by Eurobeat style dance music.

You raise your eyebrows and your expression looks caught between grinning and wincing at the screen. “How do you always convince me to watch this shit?”

I must not register the question fast enough. I snap my gaze back up to your face and our eyes meet. We’re closer than I remember.

“You good?”, you ask, smiling.

My cheeks burn. “Oh, yeah. Sorry,” I say, sliding down the couch to put some distance between us. “Movie just fried my brain, y’know?” I laugh and pray it doesn’t sound too awkward before standing up and walking toward the nearby kitchenette. “Want something to drink?” I open up the fridge and scan for some mixers, grateful for the distraction.

“After that actual trainwreck? You best believe it.”

I smile and pull out a bottle of Coke, then rummage through the cabinets for some rum and a couple glasses. As I’m mixing the drinks, I glance over at you and watch you hold your head in your hands and sigh dramatically. A laugh bursts out of me at your reaction. “Sorry, sorry. I didn’t know it was gonna be that bad.” I bring the drink over to you with an apologetic smile.

You take the drink and smirk. “You’re lucky you’re my best friend. I wouldn’t put up with this shit for just anyone.” You hold up your glass in a mock toast before you start on your drink.

My heart flutters at the statement.

“Yeah, I guess I am pretty lucky,” I reply, unable to contain a smile. I plop back down on the couch and take a few gulps from my own glass, feeling the heat from the drink ease its way through me. I let out a sigh of contentment. It’s almost enough to calm my growing excitement. Almost.

“So what’s the plan now?” you ask, raising your eyebrows at me. “Not sure I have the mental fortitude for another... “masterpiece”, but anything else you wanna do?”

“Well...” I trail off, pressing my lips together for a moment. My heart starts drumming in my chest again. I take another sip of my drink, silently praying for the liquid courage to kick in. “I– I had an idea, but not sure how you’d feel about it,” I manage to blurt out.

“Yeah? You know I’m down for pretty much whatever. Hit me,” you lean in and smile at me like you do when you’re trying to encourage me, giving me your full attention.

Thoughts about the plan I had in store flood my thoughts. I feel heat rush to my face again, followed quickly by a thread of doubt that starts to knot in my stomach. Do you even feel the same way? I eye my now-mostly-empty drink, swirling it around gently.

It’s now or never. I take a few breaths before responding.

“It’s kind of a surprise,” I reply and shyly lift my eyes to meet yours. “C-could you close your eyes and wait here a minute?”

You tilt your head at me, curiosity in your gaze, “Oh alright. Not what I expected, but sure.” You set down your glass on the coffee table and lean back into the couch, closing your eyes as instructed, “Just no surprise butterflies, aight?”

We both laugh at that, and it helps set me at ease a bit, “You’re such a dork.” I smile and head over to my tote bag hanging by the front door. I reach into it, and my fingers meet with a bundle of cool satin and lace frills. I clutch it to my chest, whipping my head around to see if your eyes are still closed. Thankfully, they are. “No peeking!” I say and quickly make my way to the bathroom.

“I’m not!” you call from the living room, the sound muffled by the bathroom door.

I switch on the light and look at myself in the mirror. The skimpy maid outfit in my arms is cool to the touch, a stark contrast to the heat radiating through me thinking of you seeing me in it. The liquid courage seems to help, as it doesn’t take me long to strip out of my top and shorts, revealing a matching sheer, lacy white bra and thong underneath. My hard nipples poke through the fabric, and I feel a dampness between my legs as I shuffle around. I can’t help but blush at the fact that I’m already this excited just from being around you.

I slip on the costume, tie the sash of the mini white apron around my waist and start adjusting it in the mirror. The plunging neckline lined with white frills, combined with the fit of the bodice accentuates my full breasts. The flared black skirt, also accented with white lace and ribbons, hugs my waist and just barely covers my ass. My lacy white underwear pokes out even if I just bend over a few inches. Next I move on to the accessories, a pair of white thigh high stockings that highlight my curvy thighs, a lacy black and white choker around my neck, and the signature maid headband, with black and white frills attached.

It definitely does not leave much to the imagination, and heat creeps up to my cheeks as I size myself up in the mirror. But, that’s fine. I want you to know that I’d love to take care of you tonight, if you’ll let me. My heart starts racing again at the thought. I fix up my hair and make sure everything is in place before I step out of the bathroom and head out to the living room. Your eyes are still closed as I make my way over to you.

“Okay, sorry for the wait,” I say before softly clearing my throat. My gaze falls to the side. “You can open your eyes now.”

Silence envelops us. I risk a glance at your face, nerves weighing down on me at the lack of a response. I see you eyeing me up and down, brows raised.

“Damn,” you finally say. “You look amazing.”

The creeping dread I felt starts to melt away, and relief washes over me. “Really? I’m glad you think so.”

“Uh, yeah, you serious? Of course I do. I always think you look cute, but this–” you trail off suddenly, and I notice your face flush as if you said something embarrassing. You clear your throat quickly before smiling at me sheepishly, head tilted in curiosity, “So uh ... what’s all this about?”

Cute? I can’t help but smile at your response, and decide to make my intentions clear. “Isn’t it obvious, silly? I–” I pause a moment and step closer, then kneel on the floor before you. “I’ve really liked you for a long time and I’m so lucky to have you in my life,” I teasingly glide my fingers along your thigh, gazing up at you with longing. “I want to be a good girl for you tonight and show you how much you mean to me, if you’ll let me.”

You look into my eyes thoughtfully, and after a moment you reach out to cup my face under my chin. There’s a hazy look in your eyes, and I find myself lost in them. You scan my face as if searching for something, and your thumb gently brushes across my bottom lip. A shiver courses through me.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you reply. You lean down and slowly press your lips against mine. “I didn’t know you liked me, too.” You kiss me again, this time harder. A flash of heat surges between my legs. I respond in kind, nibbling on your bottom lip before lightly lapping at your mouth with my tongue, requesting entrance. You oblige me, and our tongues dance together with an insatiable hunger. I need more.

My hands move automatically, guided by the fever rapidly engulfing me. My fingers glide from your thighs to your crotch, and impatiently start to unzip your bottoms. I make a soft sound of protest against your lips as I’m met with resistance. We pull our mouths apart just enough for you to help me tug them down and out of the way. I glance down and the prize I was searching for greets me: your thick cock stands at attention and I can’t help but bite my lip in anticipation.