Here is the first story in the “Last Stand at Discoland” series of short stories based on songs about dancing, clubs, and music. This story is unedited and part of a WIP, as well as 52/52 Challange.
“Alguien contó que en Nueva York, Disco Sally ha dejado de bailar”
(Someone said that in New York, Disco Sally has stopped dancing.)
- Fangoria’s Disco Sally
In the height of the disco era, nightclubs popped up on every corner, giving music lovers a place to dance and let loose. Sally had been to all of them in New York. All she wanted was to escape the mundane life that had numbed her spirit.
She danced. She drank.
None of them felt like home.
Each new club looked like the last. Gay men in either drag or leather. Straight men in leisure suits. It wasn’t like she was looking for a fling, though each night she was propositioned. And every time, she rejected the offers of a good time.
Sally danced.
Loved to dance. Loved to get lost in the music and entranced by the lights above and below her feet. Yet over the past year, her attitude about it was lackluster. But still she showed her face every Friday and Saturday night with her faithful and best friend, Stephen.
It was late spring of ’77 on a Saturday night when the proposition for something new presented its self. A man name Joseph Springer entered the club Sally and Stephen frequented. They were on the dance floor, grooving to the popular tracks, in their untraditional peacock—feathered masks, boas, and sequins that caught the light just right.
Both were tapped on the shoulder by a man they had never met, who wiggled his finger and directed them off the floor. He handed them a golden ticket to Discoland.
Lights. Glamour. Glitz. That’s what Discoland promised.
“We’ve done them all before,” Stephen said, almost yelling over the music. “What’s so special about your club?”
“Besides the fact that ninety-eight percent of this crowd wouldn’t get in?” Joseph said, leaning in to talk directly into his ear. He took Stephen’s hand to shake then walked away. “I’ll see you there.”
When Stephen opened his hand, inside his palm was a little baggy filled with white pills. “Shit. We just scored.”
A turned up nose was all Sally could muster, not one to change her mental state by taking drugs. She’d rather just be high on the music, though it was becoming more and more difficult for that to happen in the sea of polyester and floral prints around them.
“Want some?” Stephen asked, holding up the baggy like dangling a carrot in front of a horse.
“Pass,” she said. “But if you want to check out that club, let’s grab a cab and blow this popsicle stand.”
“I’d rather blow that sexy beast of a man walking this way.” Stephen had turned his attention to dance floor where a man wearing a a sky blue leisure suit and white shirt opened at the neck, unbuttoned down to his hairy chest with a gold necklace with pendent in the shape of an Italian twisted horn dangling in the bush.
Sally rolled her eyes as the man joined them.
“Aren’t you a vision of divineness,” he said, staring at Stephen.
“Thank you,” Sally answered in a condescending tone. “And this is my Stephen.” She wasn’t always such a bitch, but this night had already begun to wear on her.
“Georgie.” He held out his hand to Stephen, who was giddier than a school girl with a crush.
“Hi, handsome.” Stephen didn’t even confer before asking, “We’re heading to a new club downtown. Want to come with us, see what’s the vibe?”
“I’ll cum with you anywhere.” He emphasized the wrong connotation of the word, though for him it was correct.
Again, Sally rolled her eyes as she pulled Stephen’s hand and dragged him out of the club and onto the busy streets of Saturday night in New York City. She hailed a cab while Stephen and Georgie gave googly eyes to each other. The three of them piled in the backseat when it arrived, though there wasn’t much room when the two men began pawing each other.
If it had only been Sally and Stephen, the two would have been laughing over the shaggy rug on top of the cabby’s head but since she was the third wheel, she peered out the window instead of watching the male porn next to her.
The cab stopped in front of a laundry mat on the corner of 52nd and 9th, which made Sally furrow her brow. “Are you sure this is the place?”
“Address you gave me,” the cab said.
Sally looked at the flyer then back at the washateria then to Stephen. She nudged them. “Hey. I think we got played. There’s no club here.”
The guys came up for air long enough to pile out of the cab, not listening to anything she said.
“There’s nothing here.” Sally huffed as she stepped from the cab with them. Just as the door shut, the cab drove away.
“Where’s the club?” Georgie asked.
“That’s what I was saying. There’s nothing here except a very busy laundry mat. That guy gave us the wrong address.” Sally held the flyer in her hand.
George took it from her, giving it a look then directing his eyes to the building. He shrugged. “A laundry mat? Well, let’s take a look. If anything, we can find a stall in the John.”
Stephen pulled the glass door open, allowing Sally and Georgie to enter before him. Washing machines sprawled out in the middle of the room, creating two aisles. Dyers flanked each of the walls. It was popular without a doubt, though none of the machines were running. A man pushed by them in in huff, mumbling under his breath.
Their confused gazes cast toward the back of the room, where a gaggle of costumed people were huddled. What looked like an old-time theatre ticket booth containing a husky drag queen was center stage with lights similar to that on Broadway. A door opened and closed along next to it with man dressed in his leather fatigues, almost if he were directing traffic. Some people entered, others were turned away—some disappointed looking while others appeared angry.
Above that door was a flashing neon sign that read: Discoland
“Guess the laundry is a front?” Georgie asked, though it came out more like a comment. “Let’s go party.”
The three of them lined up, behind the rest. More people can in behind them. They waiting their turn with Sally handing Stephen his ticket. There were only two, one for both her a Stephen. “I’ll just tell them you’re with us. I bet it won’t be a problem. I’ll pay the cover if there is one,” Stephen stated to Georgie.
When it came for their turn to the ticket booth, Stephen presented his to the large woman with blue curly hair and eye lashes that sparkled when she blinked. “Hi. Uhm... Any way I can get a ticket for him?” Stephen pointed to Georgie, who flashed a brilliant smile like a toothpaste model.
“He’s out. Sorry. Too plain James for my taste. You can on in, but he stays out,” she said, her voice deeper than Barry White’s?
Stephen tried again. “Oh, come on. He’s not plain, he’s sexy.”
The man at the door stepped forward, as if a referee. “If Dixie says no, it’s a no. Now move along.”
Both Stephen and Georgie stepped aside, tossing a glance at Sally to see what she wanted to do. She only shrugged and gave her ticket to Dixie inside the booth.
“Ooo, child. I love your peacock feathers. Go on in, but no funky chicken. Okay, baby girl?” Dixie stated as she took the ticket.
As the man opened the door for Sally, she pointed to the entrance. “As that guy said, only two percent get it.”
The music was loud. Glitter and confetti rained down onto the guests on the dance floor. Brilliant flashes of strobe lights danced to the rhythm. It was an overload to the senses. Sally became instantly entranced by the spectacle. It was as if inside this disco club was some sort of Mardi Gras carnival with dancers on floating stages, dropping little presents instead of colored bead necklaces.
Dixie was correct when she assessed Stephen’s new man-toy for the night. He was plain compared to the costumes out on the dance floor. A leisure suit might have been fine for a standard night club but here, he was out of place next to a woman wearing nothing but angel wings or the man who had a rotating disco ball over his head. Even Sally felt a little under eccentric in her blue peacock-feathered dress and mask.
She glanced behind her to see others coming in but Stephen hadn’t came through the door. Possibly still arguing about admission for his newfound fuck stick. She shook her head, not giving it another thought. He’d probably choose the guy over the club that night which was fine with her. It wasn’t the first time he left her side for a big cock or pretty face. Sadly, it was never both.
Just as she took a step forward, two white dove flew over her hand. Startled by the flapping of wings, she ducked. Behind her, a woman laughed. “Love birds. They were kissing up in the tree,” she said then pointed to the wall art behind them. It was an installation piece of a large oak tree painting with branches extending from it. “I guess found a pretty girl to harass.”
Sally blushed. The woman was attractive, wearing a dark green jumpsuit with similar leaves pinned in all the appropriate places. That was something Sally had trouble locating in the dance clubs in New York, someone of the same sex who wasn’t just experimenting or swinging with her husband or boyfriend.
Dykes were few and far between in the clubs. They usually frequented bars for a night of drinking, or visited the female-only speak easies. That wasn’t Sally’s scene. She’d rather be on the dance floor, getting lost in the music.
The woman nodded, pointing her head toward the bar where shirtless bartenders poured drinks. “Can I grab you something from the bar?”
“I’d rather just dance,” Sally said.
Again, the doves flew over head. This time, Sally only dipped as they swooped. One landed on the woman’s shoulder. “I’m Marcia, and I’d love to dance.”
It wasn’t that Sally had asked her to dance but she wasn’t about to say no to the forward woman, who reached for her hand and lead her to the dance floor with a sway to her stride.
As soon as they walked over the intricate parquet floor which had a shine brighter than the stars and celebrities packing the second level of the club, dusty glitter drenched Sally from head to toe like rain. A layer of fog covered the dance floor. Even though she couldn’t see her feet, she could feel the slipperiness of the confetti under them. Next to her were others like her—guests losing their inhibitions under the lights.
The dancers overhead tossed another round of presents. Little colored baggies tied with curling ribbon dropped from the sky. People around her reach up, trying to catch what they could. Marcia even caught one with her hand then proceeded to open it while in the midst of swaying to the music.
Pastel colored pills spilled out into her hand. She popped them like candy into her mouth. She offered the left overs to Sally, though Sally shook her head, lifting it to the ceiling to feel the dust particles on her face. Catching the light, it felt as if she were in the middle of a fairy dust storm. Magical. Memorable.
The other dove joined them, landing on Sally’s shoulder. She laughed, along with Marcia, who leaned in. “They want us to fall in love.”
Sally said nothing, only inwardly smiling because that was what she had wanted ever since moving to the city. All see seemed to have found over the years had been one-night stands. Lesbians were as out in the open as gay men were, and the ones who were out and proud were activists and protesters. She was neither—just a girl who loved the nightlife.
Across from her, Marcia looked as if she were floating. So peaceful. No worries in life—or at least in that moment. Another torrent of gifts dropped around them. And again, Marcia reached out her hand and grabbed one. She opened it to reveal a baggy of white powder. Even the dove on her shoulder caught one in its beak, who then dropped it.
Sally caught it.
“Open it. Let’s see what you got,” Marcia said.
She peeled back the layers, opening it like a present but careful to not drop it. It was a baggy with little colored squares, almost like paper confetti. Sally furrowed her brow, all the while style dancing.
“LSD. Wow. I can’t believe they are handing out drugs like it’s halloween,” Marcia tore a little hole in the bag and pulled out one of the squares, dropping it on her tongue. “I’m going to pee. I’ll be back.”
Sally nodded. When Marcia turned away, Sally popped one into her mouth. If Marcia seemed to be walking on air, she wanted to be right there with her. When it came to drugs, Sally was a novice. She barely took a hit of marijuana when offered, so she didn’t know what to expect. And well, she felt nothing.
Giving herself a twirl, she placed another square onto her tongue.
Nothing.
The guy next her had seen her little baggy of LSD and asked for a hit. She offered him some. He took three and placed them in his mouth. Sally shrugged, popping one more in her mouth. If he did three squares, she certainly could feel something with the same.
The overhead lights projected flairs of streaming colors, all melding together in a kaleidoscope of gradients. As she turned to marvel in its majesty, she noticed a beautiful erotic goddess galloping across the dance floor on a white unicorn. It was beautiful.
Everything was light. Airy. The weight of the world was off her shoulders. People around her gazed at her like she was a queen. They pawed her as if she sparkled, trying to catch her star-like being. There was a strange sensation over her body. Good. Wonderful was more like it.
When she glanced down at her body, she saw the head of a woman. Her face was attached to her chest, her mouth suckling her nipple like a child searching for sustenance. Sally didn’t remember stripping her dress away but there she stood, naked and free. Light as a peacock feather.
Marcia returned with her two lovebirds, one on each shoulder. “Are you sure you don’t want some?”
A little baggy dangled in front of her like a pendulum, tick-toking from side to side. Marcia popped a few into her mouth. If Marcia could handle colorful candy, so could Sally because she still felt nothing—so she thought.
She nodded. Marcia leaned close, placing her lips on to Sally’s. With a warm, velvet tongue, their lips spread open. Wide. It was as if Marcia blew air into her mouth, filling her up like a balloon. Little pebbles dropped down her throat. Sally swallowed, taking Marcia’s tongue with them.
The kiss was marvelous. Powerful. And full of lust. Dancing. Grinding.
Sex. So much sexual tension. It was as if her whole entire body was in the midst of an orgasmic rush. Her body shook. Spasms. Uncontrollable spasms. A rush for warmth came from the dance floor, as if her body was on fire. She opened her eyes to see Marcia glowing. Maybe she, too, was in bliss.
Sally could stay like this forever. If this is what heaven felt like, she wanted to be as good as possible to get there.
A white light illuminated, taking over all the other colors. It was blinding. She closed her eyes to shield herself from its harshness. The light took over all her senses.
Weightless. Floating in peace.
Great story but I do feel sad for Sally!