A maid / bunnysuit double whammy

The next part felt like a bit of a blur. She remembered opening the package and seeing a label on the box, reading "Strip-a-thon." "Huh. Is this a sexy costume or like... mail-order lingerie? Sounds like some kinky shit," she remarked to herself quietly, taking a quick chug of her beer as if to fortify herself for what was going to be inside of such a box. She found herself becoming more dizzy than she thought she would from just a small drink-- not a good omen for the night to come.

It was as though someone else dressed her. She couldn't remember even seeing the clothes until she was standing, observing herself in the mirror. It looked like she'd dressed more for a porno shoot than a costume party, if she was being honest.

"Bunny-girl? Huh. Well now I'm glad I've been hitting the yoga mat," Julie grumbled, after examining the leotard-style suit and fishnet leggings, fresh out of the box and now adorning her body. Her exes had a lot of complaints about her, but her body wasn't genuinely one of them. She was maybe a bit lankier than guys liked their girls, but her curves were all on point and she cleaned up well. She loved the way she looked in anything that wasn't a barista apron.

Julie turned, admiring the sleek, black bunnysuit and the fluffy tail on the back. "Explains why all the guys were dressed up as sexy butlers. I thought they really were bouncers at first but, hey, now it makes more sense." She nearly tripped over the carpet as she noticed her new shoes. "High heels? That's going to be a pain. Now, the weird part is this..." It wasn't just a Playboy style bunny-suit hailing from Canada's neighbor down below-- it also took a touch of France. The outfit included a maid's hairband with bunny ears sticking out from behind the frills and a short apron, covering only just below the lap, with a bunny's head silhouette pattern in black over the white. "Kinky... Not bad. No way am I dusting shit, though. Figures I'd have to wear an apron, even to the party."

She turned once more and admired the look of her ass in fishnets. "If I'm single after tonight, I really might go over the balcony."

Julie felt like she'd managed to shake off her blurriness from earlier, though it was odd she couldn't remember dressing herself. "I guess what I'm wearing under this is a secret between me and, hopefully, some stud," she chuckled, shooting herself a sly grin at the mirror. She checked the top again, noting that it didn't really offer a place for bra straps... was there a band-bra underneath? Hard to say. "Is it gonna stay up around guests? Yikes. Not sure I wanna flash everyone. Should I get some tape...?"

"Hey bitch!"

"What the fuck did you just call me?!" she shouted out in response to the random guy's voice that had just hailed her from the living room.

"Sorry, didn't get your name. Party's started! You coming out or what?!"

"Shit!" Julie cursed, checking her phone. Two things jumped out at her. First: the time. It was already 20 minutes past the start time for her party. Fashionably late didn't apply when the party was in your own fucking flat! The other, even worse issue: the calls missed. It looked like Scott had tried to call her no fewer than five times since she hung up on him. He'd sent texts too. She wasn't opening those... she'd just read the previews.

JULIE, ABOUT THE P...

THE CAMERAS ARE G...

IF YOU GET SOMETHI...

JULIE PICK UP, YOU...

I'M NOT THE JERK H...

"You most certainly ARE the asshole. You're the gaping asshole from the memes, Scott," she growled, tempted to text him the picture in question. Unfortunately, there was no time. She had to go out and make an appearance.

The door burst open and Julie appeared, raising her hands wide and above her head while sticking out her tongue in a way she hoped was sexy. As her glasses started to slide down her nose, she adopted a more normal pose and pushed her glasses up. "Welcome to the party, party people! Tonight's theme is... uh..."

As Julie looked around, she got the sense something was wrong. For starters, nobody else was dressed as maids or Playboy bunnies. They seemed to be dressed in retro-style blazers and bowties for the guys, something like the Jeopardy woman for the girls. They were all looking at her with strange expressions too: mixed anticipation and excitement. A few people cheered while others watched her reaction, as if testing if they were okay to join in.

Suddenly, Julie felt self-conscious. This was the first time one of her costume parties had gone down with her so under-dressed, so to speak. It was a big difference to be dressed as a maid bunny-girl among others dressed the same way and to be the only one with half her tits out while everyone else is in sparkly dresses. Her eyes darted around behind her glasses, looking for something to explain the situation at hand.

A banner above her room read: "STRIP-A-THON."

"What the fuuuuck?" she questioned no one in particular, tipping her glasses off and rubbing her eyes with one fist. "That's tonight's theme?" When nobody objected, she placed her hands on her hips. "And uh... why is everybody looking at me like I'm the entertainment? Is it because... oooooh," she muttered, taking another look down at her outfit. "No, this is shit. No no. Somebody's gotta be shitting me. Everybody out. Why the fuck are there camera people here?"

"You're on Strip-a-thon! You're on TV, Julie Powers!" a man behind a standing camera called out to her.

"TV?! Get the fuck out!"

"This is the party network, Julie. If we tape here and use your footage, you are going to make a lot of money and be big in the party scene! People come out of this show celebrities. I thought that's what you wanted?"

"Get the fuck- hm? What was that about lots of money and being a celebrity?" Julie questioned, blinking a few times and leaning forward.

She took one more look around... No Scott Pilgrim in sight. One fucking party without Scott Pilgrim. This was a sign. She was meant to take the offer. "Alright, you know what? Fuck it! Tonight, I'm your stripper!" she announced, raising her fists in the air and throwing out a rocker pose. "You know, figuratively. For thematic purposes."

"Ha ha, actually, there's some strings attached. This all rolls back if you don't follow through on the Strip-a-thon requests."

"Wuh? Ugh. What do I have to do? You know, this is really the kind of thing I should be told before-hand, well before I walk out of my bedroom and start going uh um uh wuh huh like some fucking dumbass."