The entrance is painted a cheerful Cambridge Blue (Cambridge of course are the Light Blues) but once inside until your eyes adjust, you're in a dark labyrinth, like the haunted house at the funfair but (hopefully) without the things going bump in the dark to scare you.  The music is loud, throbbing disco, it's 1978 and Donna Summer and the Commodores are both the order of the day, especially now with Thank God It's Friday playing locally, only six months after it was released in the USA.

Once your eyes are adjusted of course, it's dark enough for kisses and cuddles and it's dark enough to dance as though nobody's watching.

The Hurricane was closed tonight. Elissa had got all dressed up and had nowhere to go. Well nowhere except maybe Taboo. It had a cool name which she liked and she even liked the music. A bit. It wasn't like real music... but it was better than nothing

Heading to the bar "Bottle of Fosters, Bill" The cheapest lager. Tasted like piss, but at least it was wet piss. And she'd have to make it last... Turning round she propped up the bar, tapping her feet in time to the music, to see if there was anyone around she knew

A slow day in the shop would normally mean a night spent at the Hurricane, but with the Hurricane closed and all her work finished at the shop, Rhiannon instead found herself just sort of lurking around the edges of the crowd at the Taboo, standing out from the crowd like a sore thumb in her torn-jeans-and-leather-jacket ensemble.

It wasn't that she disliked the music; it was catchy enough, the volume was high, and she was generally appreciative of anything with a decent beat, but she always felt a little out of place with the dancing. Sure, she could bounce up and down in a wild, vaguely rhythmic fashion more or less synchronized to a driving beat when she got really into a song, but disco always seemed to her like it required skill. Proper disco dancing took finesse, and that was something the Welsh girl had never had in abundance, so dancing where other people might see was a nightmare scenario that Rhiannon would rather avoid.

Instead, she resigned herself to people watching for the evening and made her way to the bar, flagged down the bartender for a bottle of Guiness, offered a small wave to Elissa as she noticed the other girl, and cast her eyes over the crowd with a sort of detached disinterest, as if daring anything more interesting than the anticipated music-driven gyrations to happen.

"Hey Rhiannon" Elissa moved over and toasted the other girl with her bottle, then made an amused sound, cocking her head to show she was listening to the music  as 'Figaro' from the latest 'Brotherhood of Man' record started playing. "It's a guilty pleasure of mine. I actually like this. It's not Sid Vicious but it will do." she gave a little mock sigh of disappointment

"No mosh pit... I think this lot would scream and run a mile... I'm looking for the talent. Where's the talent...." she wasn't talking dancing talent. Where were the jocks? Where were the handsome filled out hunks with abs and gluts you could run your hands over under the excuse of the dance? "Maybe we need to draw them out. Do you dance girl? Disco I mean" she'd seen Rhiannon in the Hurricane, but that was a whole different world. A lot more violent world

Rhiannon toasted Elissa in return and nodded agreement with her assessment of the music. "Hi, El. Music's not bad, no. Reminds me a bit of my uncle Brian's records, actually. Not the worst music in the world, I guess," she allowed.

She smirked a little at the thought of a mosh pit in the middle of The Taboo, but the expression slipped away fast when Elissa asked if she danced. She took a long draw from her bottle to hide her face before answering, "Ehh... Disco? Me? Not unless you feel like watching a poor Welsh girl make a fool of herself, El. Suppose it'd work if you're looking for somethin' to distract your talent long enough for you to swoop in while they're paralyzed with laughter, but otherwise..."

She trailed off, shuddered a little at the thought, and took another sip of her beer before sighing and adding, with a vague gesture toward the dance floor and a sort of wistfully envious tone, "I'm not nearly graceful enough for all that. Not like you. Two left feet, me; all my talent's in my hands."

Julie was pleased to have found a bedsit. It meant arriving in Cambridge almost a month before her course started, but that gave her more time to settle in. And finding the local disco had been part of that.

She strolled in, already starting to sway to the thumping disco beat, having squeezed herself into a brand new pair of shiny gold disco pants. Julie didn't have much of a 'wild side', but they'd been love at first sight that afternoon. They made her feel daring, not least because her parents would never have approved!

Out on the dance floor, she got the feel for the rhythm and started to dance. She'd never had any training, but she was light on her feet even in platform sandals.