▲ My Vampire Best Friends ▲

Chapter Two: June is the Masochistic One

  "Excuse me," I asked the burly man, "Can we go into the VIP section?"

  The burly man cackled at us, looking down on us. To be honest, he was looking right down into our tits. Silvia flinched back, but I held still, just glaring at him and letting him get a good look at it.

  "Please," I said, pointing forward, "We know them."

  "Know who?" the burly man asks, turning around.

  That's when I shoved past him, sloshing my drink forward. Silvia ran behind me, gasping out a happy drunk scream.

  "Hey!" the burly man yelled out, rushing out behind us.

   But I wasn't looking. My golden heels slapped along the stairwell as I circled my way downward, even deeper, into the basement. With every spiral, the music upstairs grew softer. The thick, thumping dubstep music was replaced by a... Violin? What?

  It was true. As we circled our way to the bottom of the Labyrinth, a violin was playing, clear and true. From somewhere, a flute trilled. What kind of a club played classical music?

  As we reached the bottom of the stairwell, the world was filled with light. Real light- not the crappy strobe lights of before.

  Basement windows let in the moonlight. Couples waltzed around the room, in tight embraces. The ladies wore silky gowns which whirled out in the air. Strangers ate soft, buttery pastries with swirling icing. The violins trilled and squeaked and screeeeeeched. The whole place glinted with glitter and light and jewels off of people's dresses. I stayed pressed against the wall. Strangers were staring at us. As I stayed there, the chandelier's light seemed to almost spin and send shadows all over the steps, on strange places. Like this was a fairytale and I was in dreamland.

  "Did I just enter the 17th century?" Silvia cackled, right next to me. "Are we princesses?"

  "What is this place doing in a club?" I whispered. "I'm so confused. This place doesn't belong in this time period."

  "Cool!" Silvia said, "Maybe it's a Victorian costume party!"

  "I don't know," I said, looking forward. Some of the costumes didn't match up. Some people wore traditional Nigerian dashikis or Indian saris. One woman wore a Japanese kimono with a pale white face. Other outfits didn't make sense at all, like wearing a white shroud like a ghost. Another man wore a spiky suit of armor. 

  The next song started to play, and a strange drum beat started tapping out. Everyone's dances changed. The couples all parted and then people were slapping the floor and throwing their legs up to the beat of the drum. Nobody seemed to even notice us.

  "Excuse me, you really can't be here," the burly guy said, panting, as he reached us.

  The burly man threw his head down, slapping against his knees to take a rest. His face was sweaty and slick with sweat. He looked like a wet pig, like he hadn't exercised in ages. Who made him a bouncer? He really was a bad one.

  "Yeah, all right, I know we didn't get the costumes right," I said, looking down at myself, with my tight, black dress where my boobs spilled out of the top. My glittery skirt hugged my butt, and let's just say that it left nothing to the imagination.

  "Oh, come on," Silvia protested, looking at the bouncer again. "Just let us stay! We'll be good!"

  "You don't want to," the bouncer said, face quivering, twitching like he had Tourette's. His eyelid also twitched in and out, and his right eye grew small and then big again. As it pulsed, the light seemed to drain from the room.

  "What's going on?" a soft voice murmured, stepping on over.

  Still quivering, the bouncer looked up. His face was filtering from bright red to purple. His shoulders were having spasms.

  "Please don't go in there, girls. I don't want to do this again."

  "Do what?" I said.

  "He doesn't want to kick you out," a soft voice said. Even softer hands curled along my shoulder.

  I turned around. There stood a doe-eyed man with a baggy white shirt, like a pirate. The shirt was mostly open, exposing his hairy chest, like he was in a Spanish telenovela. The man had long, black, luscious hair, like he was in a shampoo commercial. I almost laughed when I saw him. What kind of ridiculous man actually exists in real life?

  "I don't want to kick you out," the bouncer whimpered, eyes brimming with tears.

  "That's right," said Telenovela Pirate. "Now, shoo, m'dear."

  "Okay, bye now," the bouncer cried out, before tearing back up the stairs again, like a smoker who was just forced to run a marathon. The stairwell above us was filled with his hacking coughs.

  As he disappeared, Telenovela Pirate gave us a once-over. His eyes glided up Silvia's bare legs, and rested on my bare arms.

  "Welcome to the VIP section, girls!" he said, throwing up his arms. "I always welcome guests."