When the bouncer issued Sarah a special VIP band that her roommate did not receive, Sarah debated walking out immediately. Ashley had approached first, beaming at him and thrusting out her breasts for maximum cleavage, in the way of young women accustomed to never having to pay to enter a club. It wasn't really necessary, of course, as Ashley was already gorgeous with her platinum blonde hair, tight skirt and low cut sliver top. She would never have to pay.
The bouncer checked Ashley's ID, placed a neon yellow wristband stating "ABOVE 21" on her wrist, and allowed her forward to a security guard waving a metal detector.
"ID?" He asked, gesturing Sarah to come forward. Sarah had already been rooting for her ID when they turned the corner, but when she turned to hand it to him, she looked him in the eye and froze, dead in her tracks. Her heart pounded in time with the bass from inside the club. He looked at her with indifference, looked down at the license, then back up again, taking in her little black dress, long dark hair, and a stunned expression on her cherry red lips.
He hummed to himself in a gravelly tone and asked for her arm.
For an Orc, he was surprisingly deft and gentle with the armband.
They'd arrived a little early so the line wasn't long. She hadn't noticed before in conversation with Ashley, but among the other humans were two fae women in animated conversation about seven people behind them. Their lithe bodies and facial markings gave them away, but no one else in line seemed to notice or care. Maybe they thought it was just makeup? thought Sarah, but since the Orc equally received no response, she knew that wasn't the case.
Sarah looked ahead to Ashley, ahead of her in the lobby, getting impatient. She received her yellow armband, plus an additional pink one that declared "VIP".
"VIP?"
"You know what I am, right?"
She nodded slowly.
"Well there you go," he shrugged.
"Come on," Ashley called out. "Don't hold up the line, Sarah. It's freezing out here." Sarah propelled forward to the guard who inspected her purse and asked her if she had any magical devices on her person. She shook her head. Although he looked human, she didn't yet trust her voice.
As a grad student with little time or energy to go clubbing, she had resisted the idea at first. But with mere weeks left to their final semester at Albany, her roommate Ashley convinced her to take a night off to celebrate. Club flier in hand, she pulled an anxious Sarah away from the blue-white glow of her word processor, telling Sarah to stop mulling over imagined faults in the thesis she had finally submitted. There was nothing else to be done until the oral defense, and that was still a week away. A night out would be restorative, and she had just heard of an elite club that had recently opened. Sarah knew her roommate liked these boutique clubs with silly names that belied the interior.
"If the name sounds fancy, you know they're trying too hard," Ashley would say. She often took the train down for a fun weekend away from college, but unilaterally avoided places with names like Heaven or Palladium, and opted for a place called the Grotto or for a larger scene, the Tunnel. So that's how they ended up at the Underground, a supposed bastion deep cuts, hot beats, and the bleeding edge of turntable-ism in spring of 95'.
There had been a surprisingly accurate depiction of a fairy on that club flier, Sarah recalled now, standing in the overly air-conditioned front room as people (and creatures) of all kinds continued to filter in. Kandie kids in rave wear, older adults in more sophisticated attire, and a steady flow of other-human creatures in fashions that obviously didn't originate on the NYC streets. And on the faces of normal people like Ashley: zero surprise. There must be some kind of glamour, Sarah assumed, preventing the masses from seeing these creatures as they really were.
An overzealous DJ wearing a Dracula costume warmed up the crowd in the front room. She worried he was an actual vampire and happily allowed Ashley to drag her up to the next floor. After years of sporadic contact with the Underground, Sarah had begun to take these little triggers for granted. Ghosts and goblins, peaches and fairies. After all, she'd won. And it was years ago. It would be silly to freak out or avoid very little thing that reminded her of the Labyrinth.
Yeah. Totally silly.
Sarah was a fucking idiot.