<div class="floatleft">(http://i1177.photobucket.com/albums/x359/Briar_Rose_Thorne/Gabrielle-small.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Character name: </strong>Gabrielle Cavanaugh<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Cashier's Booth<br/><br/><strong>With:</strong>Alone<br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><hr/><br/>After she had been given clearance to go inside, Gabrielle did so, walking with no particular hurry but also showing no uncertainty or doubt.  For all the hype, it was just another club with a gimmick, after all, and probably -- judging from the look of the cashier -- a little too young for her anyway.  Still, she had come looking for something different, and this certainly qualified.<br/><br/>Open came the clutch purse again, and she fished out the folded bills that she'd put there for just that purpose.  It felt odd to pay with cash, but ... well ... it felt somehow more illicit, more dangerous, not to leave record of her passing on credit card receipts, which was, in some ways, a little tracking device that followed you around, a perfect companion to the ever-present cellphone.<br/><br/>While she waited her turn, she glanced over at the security guard.  The presence of security was reassuring, as if promising that the excitement offered by the club wasn't so exciting that it would show up to haunt her later, in divorce proceedings or ... whatever.<br/><br/>One night's admission would be plenty.   Most of her was pretty sure that this wasn't going to become one of her escapes, not on a regular basis, anyway.