The sound from the enormous speakers made the fabric of his shirt push against the skin of his chest, and jarred the teeth in his skull. The chains and zippers on his black trousers felt like they were jingling in the blast waves. He stood leaning on a railing overlooking the main dance floor, watching the dancers. Particularly one dancer. That girl from the party.
She was dancing in a loose group of what he assumed were her friends, four or five other girls who had been at his co-worker's party. They were all a couple of years younger than him, and appeared to have met at college. They were all wearing various shades of black, but the girl who he was watching was perhaps the classiest of the group.
She wore a calf-length, straight black skirt, a semi-transparent spiderweb long sleeve top and a plain black overbust corset. Coupled with her understated makeup and her long, straight black hair it gave her a sleek look that only further accentuated her fine-limbed body and her delicate face. She was beautiful - and she knew it. Stephen smiled wickedly.
*******
At the party she had behaved with a smug disdain for just about everyone around her, including the other girls in her little coterie. Stephen had overheard her making snide comments about the other guests at the party when he had gone to get a drink at the "bar" (simply a table piled high with lots of booze), and promptly labeled her as "not worth the effort". Half an hour later, though, his co-worker who owned the flat and hosted the party dragged him over to introduce him to the gaggle of goth girls. Apparently some of them were old friends of the hosts fiancee, or something like that.
Stephen had merely shook their hands and said hi, fully intending to make the encounter brief, when the "queen" of the gang (whose name was "Louise" or something) said:
"Is that Snakebite you're drinking? I think that stuff tastes like it's had a previous owner. But I guess some people like it that way."
She sneered at him, making the other girls snicker slightly. Stephen raised an eyebrow at her and replied:
"Well, I guess you'd know all about that, since that purse of yours looks like it's had several. Dumpster diving isn't the same as 'vintage', you know."
He winked at her and walked off before she had a chance to pull her jaw up from the floor.
A little while later, when Stephen was discussing the finer points of EBM lyrics with Tez (an old friend and self-professed "rivethead and raging bull-dyke") he caught "Louise" and a couple of her friends glaring at him as they were nursing their wine coolers by the bay window. Tez caught his amused smirk and looked up.
"Damn, look at miss Prissy-pants and her friends, the Living Dead Dolls (tm)," Tez chuckled. "What did you do, pee in her drink?" She planted her clunky army boot on the table, belched and crushed her empty beer can in a meaty fist.
"Not quite, but close. I told her that her purse looked like it came from a dust bin", Stephen chuckled. Tez roared with laughter.
"Better be careful then, or we'll find you in a dark alley some night, drained of blood and smelling of patchouli!" Tez guffawed. "Tell you what though, little bitch like that, I wouldn't mind teaching her a few lessons in humility... in private, if you get my meaning!" She winked broadly and guffawed again, and then it was time to amble off to the club.
*******
The Belltower was one of the city's most famous rock clubs. Housed in what once used to be an actual church, it made a striking impression even on those who had been there many times before.
It was one of those churches that had been put up in the trailing end of the Carpenter Gothic architectural style during the 30's, built from brown brick to look a bit like something from an older era. The windows had originally been clear, but were now painted with faux lead glass imagery depicting the saints of rock 'n roll (including Elvis, Joan Jett and Marilyn Manson).
The entrance held the usual wardrobe and toilets, with a ticket booth installed for the club, but the interior was rather different from what a church goer might expect. The pews were all gone, along with just about every other piece of church furniture. The walls everywhere were painted black and covered by many layers of rock posters.
The first ting a visitor encountered was a massive bar, lit in red from beneath giving it a hellish cast. Immediately beyond it was the dance floor, cordoned off by a waist-high fence. At the furthest end, where the altar once stood, was now the DJ booth on a platform.
Along the walls were stools for people to sit, and on either side of the room were walkways where one could get to the lounge area on a suspended platform above the DJ booth. Despite the massive speakers on the dance floor it was actually possible to carry a conversation in the lounge, more or less.
This particular night the club had its Goth Night, playing host to a throbbing sea of corpse-pale faces and lots of black clothes. The swirling lights glinted off numerous body piercings, and Bauhaus competed with Combichrist and the Crüxshadows for space on the DJ's turntable.
After a couple of rounds on the dance floor, Stephen got another beer and went up on the walkway to cool down a bit. As he stood there looking out on the dancing goths his eye was caught by "Louise" and her gaggle of friends. They were dancing in a cluster, all carefully posing as best they could, mirroring each other. They seemed to be more concerned with looking good than actually enjoying the music. Stephen sneered at them and sipped his beer.
Just then "her majesty" looked up and met his eye. He smiled maliciously at her, and waggled his beer bottle with the label visible. Her aloof expression turned to a glare, but he just winked at her again and walked into the lounge.
*******
The lounge was not particularly crowded, as most people were still packed on the dance floor. A few of the booths were occupied, and here and there couples (and the occasional ménage a trois) were snogging sloppily on a few of the red vinyl recliners. the room was lit mostly by red lights, but when Stephen entered he saw a flash of purple in one of the white spotlights by the bar.
He recognised the bright purple sidecut as belonging to Sarah (whom an avid reader also might recognise from the story 'Secret Room'), so he sauntered over to give her a hug. She smiled brightly at him, her lips as purple as her hair and nails. The D-rings on her short black dress jingled against the ones on his trousers as she pushed herself against him.
Sarah introduced her friend Eric, a waify boy in skinny PVC pants and a mesh tank top who blinked shyly at Stephen in a way that made him suspect that Sarah had mentioned some of the fun and games he had played with her when they first met. Stephen shook Eric's hand, and gave Sarah's bum a playful squeeze that earned him a chuckle and a kiss on the cheek from her and an awed stare from the boy (who in all honesty was no younger than 25 at least).
Stephen brought another round in, and they carried on talking. It turned out that Eric was studying graphic design hoping to become a professional illustrator some day. Stephen produced a business card and told him to get in touch, since his company often accepted interns from different art schools. Eric goggled at him again and thanked him profusely.
"Don't thank me yet," Stephen replied. "I'll make no promises, but when you're looking for internships I can put your name up. If the art director likes your stuff, we're rolling. Not my call."
They spent a little while talking, but Sarah and Eric eventually had to leave. Stephen sat for a while, nursing the last of his beer, but finally decided to go home. Just as he put the bottle down and was about to rise, "Louise" pushed through the heavy vinyl curtains that served as a door to the Lounge. She stopped just inside the doorway, somewhat unsteadily, and looked around. On her heels followed two of her Goth Barbie cohorts; one tall icy blonde in a sleek black dress, a pierced nose and pale blue hair extensions, and a slightly shorter Punjabi girl, all natural black spiky hair and that creamy milk chocolate complexion. She wore a shorter black dress and a red satin corset. Stephen raised an eyebrow, brushed his fringe out of his eyes and regarded them with some curiosity.
The bitch queen seemed to be looking for someone, while the other two tried to talk her into coming with them. Finally her eyes fell on Stephen, and she came up to his table in what would probably have been a regal stride if she hadn't ruined the appearance by stumbling slightly. Her two friends trailed after her, looking slightly annoyed.
"Oh no," he thought ironically to himself. "Looks like I am to be chastised." He chuckled quietly.
The trio stopped in front of Stephen and made their best attempt at glaring at him. He just smiled sardonically at them, and just as the leader opened her mouth to say something he broke in loudly:
"Good evening, ladies. Have a seat!" When the girl sputtered but none of them made a move to comply, he sharpened his smirk to a glare, snapped his fingers and said: "Sit!" They sat.
"You're that guy from Charlie's party," the leading girl opened with. "Who do you think you are, to talk to me like that?" She slurred slightly, betraying that she was a bit drunk. She seemed coherent enough for conversation, though.
"I thought we were introduced before, but all right. I'm Stephen, I work with Charles. And you are...?" He thrust his hand at the girl, and reluctantly she took it.
"I'm Eloise, but that..." Stephen dropped her hand and turned to the blonde. Her name turned out to be Nathalie. Finally he grasped the Indian girls hand, and over Eloise's attempts to interrupt he introduced himself again:
"Hi, I'm Stephen, as I'm sure you know by now. And may I have the pleasure of your name?" The girl, slightly flustered by his overly polite approach, answered:
"Um, it's, I mean... I'm Nayana."
"A pleasure to meet you, Nayana. You look very lovely tonight. Would you like a drink?"
"Um, yes, yes please," the girl blushed. Stephen gently let go of her hand, dug out a few bills and thrust them at the icy blonde.
"Get a round in, love. One more beer for me, and whatever you ladies are drinking. Hurry now, before the bar closes." The pale girl gaped at him, but lured by the promise of a free drink she got up and stalked off to the bar. Stephen scooted just a bit closer to Nayana, and finally turned to the fuming Eloise.
"So, what brings me the dubious pleasure of your company, then?"
"How dare you speak to me the way you did? You said that my purse looked like..." She faltered, searching for the words.
"Like you found it in a dust bin?" Stephen supplied. When the girl opened her mouth in outrage he continued: "Well, that was perhaps a bit harsh. It really only looks like you mugged a granny for it." In the corner of his eye he saw Nayana trying to hide an amused snort, and gently, seemingly by accident placed his hand on hers as it rested on the seat next to him. She stiffened briefly, but didn't remove the hand.
Eloise cast a withering glance at the dusky girl, who winced slightly, but quickly returned her attention to her real enemy.
"There is nothing wrong with my purse! I got it in a vintage store in Berlin..."
"Oh, did you? So that's why it looks like a Bundeswehr surplus binocular case!"
"Oh! You bastard! You're being so rude! What gives you the right..."
