A short mulit-chapter fic AU with Maura and Jane set in the late 70s disco scene. Because Sometimes all it takes is one magical night on the dancefloor to change everything. Normal legal stuff applies. Always open to honest feedback.

"It's never gonna happen," Tommy said for the umpteenth time.

"Never say never," Maura replied, shifting in her tight Jordache jeans. It had cost her almost a month of tips but she finally had gotten what (she thought) would be the perfect pair to go with her best outfit.

"Come on ," Tommy rolled his eyes and brushed his long hair back with his hand, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Maura felt the bottom of his jeans smack her leg. "How many nights are we gonna waste standing outside of this place. There's plenty of action over at New York, New York. It's more of our kind of crowd too."

"What's that supposed to mean? Just last week Marc let Patty in. And she said there were plenty of regular people in there."

"Whatever," Tommy shook his head and watched as another limo pulled up. He loved his friend like a sister but sometimes she was too much. "That's who's getting in," he pointed at Vitas Gerulaitis and his date for the evening. "Stars, Maura, stars. Only the big wigs get into Studio 54."

The crowd shouted and waved as Marc, the lord of the velvet rope, pulled it back to let Vitas and entourage in.

"Barry said he'd talk to Marc," Maura said confidently. "And that he'd get us in for sure."

"Well I'm not wasting any more time here," Tommy replied. "Frankie said that he and Vince will be at New York, New York and that we'll get in there. You should come down and meet us."

"Have fun," Maura mumbled, not turning to see her friend and roommate push through the throng of people waiting for their chance to mingle with the social elite of the city.

"It has to be tonight," Maura said to herself as the crowd shouted again for Marc's attention or at each other, desperate to get in. She stood her ground as the group around her jostled for position. After doing this for months, three to four nights a week, the petite college senior had learned a few things about getting into the hottest club in New York.

One, that it didn't really matter who you were or where you were from, as long as you had a certain look you could get in. She often thought of Disco Sally who was now a legend at almost 70, and a Studio 54 regular.

Two, that you could stand out here all night and watch hundreds of people get in or watch dozens of people get in. There was no way to tell what could happen on any given evening.

Third, and most importantly, the keeper of the gate Marc Beneke could not be swayed by anything or anyone to let you into the club. Maura had seen it all-money, drugs, sex-you name it. She knew if it wasn't for Barry, her friend on the inside, the only other way she might get in is when the owner, Steve Rubell, came out to pick his 'cast' for the night.

The crowd swelled with excitement as another limo pulled up. Maura felt her heart race just a little as she watched Halston exit from the far side and walk quickly around to the opening car door. He reached down and offered his hand to who many in the crowd assumed would be Liz or Liza. Maura knew that both were out of town at the moment thanks to the Post and the designer never came to Studio 54 without a lady on his arm.

"Oh my," Maura's breath caught as Wilhelmina's hottest model exited the car. Born just across the bridge in Brooklyn, the only daughter of a plumber and a homemaker, Jane Rizzoli's name was on everyone's lips in the fashion world as the top model in the industry. It was said that Wilhelmina Cooper herself has spotted Jane at a pizzeria in the Village one day and offered her a contract on the spot.

Maura, currently a fashion design student at NYU, had found herself drawn to the dark beauty who seemed to wear her glamour with an air of indifference. Almost as if Jane would have been happier walking the streets of New York than the runways of Paris.

"She sure is something," a male voice startled Maura out of her daze as Jane swept by on Halston's arm.

"Yes. Yes she is." Maura turned to smiled at the man and gasped.

"You know, I see you out here all the time. You're not like the others, begging to get in."

"But I so do want to get in, if only for one night." Maura replied, trying to keep the nerves out of her voice. "Most of all tonight."

Maura held her breath as the frumpy looking man paused, running his hand through a greasy mess of hair. "What do you think Marc?"

The silent doorman nodded and gave her a wink.

"Welcome to Studio 54," the man said with a smile and pulled back the velvet rope. "Have a good time."

"I will," Maura squealed with delight. "Thank you so much Mr. Rubell."

"Steve," he called as Maura hurried towards the door. "My dad is Mr. Rubell."

Maura turned to offer a small wave but Steve had moved on to the next pretty face in the crowd. Taking a deep breath she opened the large gold doors that led into the club.

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Maura didn't pay much attention to who or what she was walking past as she made her way further inside so she didn't notice a pair of dark brown eyes openly appraise her as she walked past.

"Do you know her Jane?" Halston asked.

"No I don't think so," Jane trailed off. She had met so many people over the past few years that they'd all began to blur in her mind.

The fashion designer's eyes tracked the shorter woman as she disappeared further into the club. "She certain walks like she's trained."

"Too short," Jane replied, smirking.

"Well don't feel like you have to be stuck to my side this evening. I'm supposed to meet Truman downstairs later."

"Ok," Jane replied as she began to hurry after the Maura.

"Be good," Halston called with a smile.

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Maura stopped on the edge of the dance floor and took it all in. The pictures in the New Yorker didn't do this place justice was the first though that came to mind. The room was huge and pulsed with raw energy that came off the crowd in waves. Floor to ceiling light columns were scattered throughout the room, casting a reddish glow into the darkness. Above it all a giant half moon, complete with the glamour accessory of the 70s poised under its nose, seemed to take everything in with disinterest.

Smiling broadly, Maura made her way to the bar closest to her for a drink and to see if she could find her friend Barry.

Before she could order, she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Gin and Tonic I presume?" Barry shouted, smiling broadly.

"Barry!" Maura pulled her friend into a hug. Stepping back she couldn't help but give him a once over. In the standard Studio 54 male uniform of gold shorts and sneakers, her friend looked very different for the one that she saw in class every day.

"I can see why you're so popular here," Maura said, taking her drink. "I bet you have a long waiting list of boys ready for a date."

"Very funny," Barry said, embarrassed. "So Marc finally let you in?"

"Yes," Maura replied. Technically Marc Beneke was who gave final approval.

"Great. Hey I'll have a break in an hour or so. I'll come find you."

"Sounds good," Maura smiled and sipped her drink, watching Barry head back to wherever he'd appeared from.

People came to the clubs for many reasons, Maura thought as she watched the growing crowd dance and mingle in front of her. Some came for the spectacle, some for the drugs. Others still for the chance to mix with celebrity and for a moment to feel famous.

Those reasons were well and good for others, but not for her. There was one reason Maura had been so desperate to get into Studio 54, the music. Finishing her drink quickly and depositing the empty class on a nearby table she headed out onto the floor. If this was to be her solitary night in the club there was only one place she wanted to spend it.

In the middle of the dance floor.

Many of the people mentioned in the story were well know devotees of Studio 54. There's an excellent book about the late 70s/early 80s New York club scene called The Last Party if you're interested in knowing more.