Life sometimes throws complexities at us all, and as stressful as it may seem, if we are patient the majority of situations will resolve themselves, provided we are prepared to go that little bit further than we thought possible.
Oh, and I'm Sharon by the way. Please don't call me Shaz...because I hate the reminders it brings of the lazy and obnoxious oaf I was married too, and how I came to find myself now at twenty-two years of age divorced after four years of marriage, and living in a small tower block. The kind where voices and shouts echo up through piss stinking concrete stairwells during the night, and the neon sprayed graffiti is welcome, to break up the drab dirty greyness of it all.
In the small flat I was happy, well, reasonably contented. As soon as that front door closed I had my own world, although occasionally it would be invaded by music coming through the thin walls or the very amorous exercise of the couple upstairs playing out their love-making through my ceiling.
Still, I'm not complaining about that last part because if the mood took me I'd slip my fingers into my panties and massage my clitoris to their rhythm - some nights the three of us all managed to cum at the same time.
It was one evening whilst I was stood at the front door of the flat, having a cigarette, peering through the deluge of rain at the rooftops, which glistened beneath the streetlights of the town that a familiar voice called to me.
Turning, I saw tall and somewhat rather sodden and bedraggled figure in black waterproof clothing carrying a black and silver motorbike crash helmet.
The laughter burst from my mouth with such energy, my cigarette spat forth, hissing briefly as it landed in a small puddle.
"Look at the state of you, Stefan," I said as I stepped back into the hallway, motioning for him to follow me.
"Thanks, Sharon," he replied, shaking as much moisture from himself as possible before stepping in.
"Leave your stuff here in the hallway," I said pointing to the shoes by the door.
"I can't stay," he replied, before ruffling his short dark brown hair, then slipping the small rucksack from his back.
"Oh," I replied, as a small feeling of emptiness some how filled me, and my hands slipped in the back pockets of my jeans, holding my arms tightly and defensively against the sides of my body.
He pulled a package from the backpack, wrapped in a carrier bag, handing it to me.
"Here are two carton's of cigarettes. Just a small thank you for helping me out last week," he said.
"You shouldn't have, honestly," I replied freeing a hand from the back pocket, and blushing as I accepted it.
The truth was that I was extremely grateful, as money was far tighter than anybody knew since my hours had been reduced at the local supermarket.
"I'll hear nothing of the sort," he acknowledged, "you really did me a great favour," he added, with his wonderful warm smile, "it's the least I can do, although I really wish you had accepted the cash."
I waved a hand dismissively, blushing heavily as I looked into his beautiful green eyes.
"It's absolutely fine," I lied.
He held a hand up to stop me.
"You are far too modest Sharon, replacing that jumper would have cost me quite a bit of money, and the fact you didn't even want to charge me for the repair, well...," he said before adding, "you should treat yourself as well as you do others."
As he slipped the rucksack back on he leant forward and kissed me on the cheek.
Once more I longed for his own lips to touch mine. Not tonight I told myself, I would wait until the time was right I thought to myself...again.
It was becoming a very cowardly habit.
Thankfully, the dimness of the bare hallway bulb hid my blush at his touch.
It wasn't easy having a major crush on one of your friends ex-boyfriends. I had only gotten to know Stefan over the past couple of years through one of my friends. Sure I'd seen him around prior, but you see lots of people repeatedly in a small town.
My concern, albeit a weak one, was the fallout within the social dynamics of the friendship between Sarah, Stefan's ex-girlfriend, and myself although our closeness had somewhat cooled recently.
Sarah seemed a little indifferent about everything, although if I were to be completely honest with myself, the fact remained she had cheated on such a lovely guy and that hurt me too, because many were the times I would have the opportunities to impose myself upon him, I had denied myself this out of respect for their relationship and our friendship.
When you're close to a friend, there are multiple social situations in which you spend time in physical proximity to their partner, and not once had I used the occasions, such as christmases, birthdays, evenings out, to kiss him other than on the cheek. But my god, so often I had craved to feel his lips pressed uptight against on my own and to grab his lovely firm bum and grind our pelvises together.
I had thought about trying to generate situations for rebound sex since their break-up but alas Stefan still treated me with such consideration, despite only getting to know me through Sarah.
He just was not the kind of guy who would use me for his own gratification, despite me secretly relishing this idea.
His voice brought me back from my mindful meanderings.
"How about we catch-up in town Saturday, tomorrow morning at the cafe in the square, my treat, another thank you".
"That'd be lovely," I smiled.
"Are you sure I couldn't offer you a drink, now" I asked, trying to hide the desperation in my tone.
My heart lifted as he slipped the sleeve of his jacket up, glancing at his watch.
"I'm really sorry, I'm already running late," he replied softly.
"That's okay," I accepted through a forced smile.
At that, he tenderly patted me on the shoulder and we arranged to meet at nine 'o' clock in the morning.
As he went back out into the rain, I stood on the balcony of the flats, lighting another cigarette, and watching him climb on his motorbike and head home through the dark night, as my shoulders sagged under the weight of my own cowardice.
* * *
After a tumultuous nights sleep, I finally awoke to the alarm.
A beautiful Saturday morning.
The sun was out.
I felt rested, just about.
And I was meeting Stefan in just over an hour.
Perfect.
A quick cup of coffee and a shower woke me fully, and I stood before the wardrobe wondering what too wear.
After much rifling, I settled on a shoulder strapped bottle green sheath dress which stopped just above my knees.
In front of the mirror I added a little rouge and pink lipstick.
There would be no need for much more I told myself, as Sarah had once informed me Stefan always preferred it when she wore little or no make-up.
Thanks to the natural shagginess of my blonde hair, it required little maintenance, and running a brush through it a few times had it fanning outwardly at the end.
The nude high-heels I had chosen echoed in the concrete stairwell, as I picked my way past cigarette ends and a couple of suspicious looking pools of liquid.
A condom, with its swollen milky end lay in the middle on the steps leading down from the sixth floor to the fifth. I grimaced, then smirked briefly, wondering if the couple in the flat above my own had been unable to wait until they arrived home last night, as it had been very quiet.
Once out of the stairwell the fresh air of the streets gave instant respite from the domestic claustrophobia in which I was spending so much of my life. Each deep breath woke my inner being further still, as I walked purposely to The Square and the café.
Pausing before a shop window I adjusted the dress straps in my reflection and smoothed the material over my hips. I felt good.
With it being relatively early, the town was not too busy, and as I crossed the square with its myriad of shop's courting the edges I could see there would be no issue in finding a table in the sunshine to enjoy my coffee with Stefan.
The aroma of freshly ground beans in the light and airy shop was intensely uplifting, and I stood patiently awaiting for my americano.
This didn't happen too often and was a nice little treat to myself.
A quick glance at my watch told me it was exactly nine 'o' clock.
Expectantly I glanced around hoping too see Stefan, and found myself a little disappointed to see the only company I had was two bearded young hipsters and there respective girls.
Stepping outside, I took a seat and enjoyed the warmth the of the sun on my pale skin. After the rain last night, the day felt so much cleaner.
I took several enjoyable sips of the coffee, then looked to my watch again.
Stefan was normally very punctual, or early.
It was most unusual for him, and so I tried to sit patiently, but the expectation was beginning to stir angst within, as I began to drum my fingers on the table before lighting a cigarette, which I finished far too quickly.
Scooping up my drink I went back inside and approached the counter, reassuring the girl working there that my drink was fine.
"Hi, I'm Sharon, I'm meant to be meeting somebody here this morning at nine 'o' clock," I began, "he's a tall good-looking guy, with short dark brown hair, green eyes and rides a motorbike. If he turns up can you tell him I'll be back by nine forty five."
"Sure," she said, smiling.
I thanked her, and checking the lid was secure on the cup set off on the twenty minute walk to where Stefan lived.
As I passed numerous shoppers in my haste, I knew I had to slow my pace down, the back of one of my shoes began to gnaw painfully against my heel.
Inwardly I cursed it.
Finally, and with the merest of limps I left the town centre followed the main road to the quaint housing estate where Stefan lived.
Consciously, I made the decision to slow down, lest I arrive at the front door out of breath and sweating - for all the wrong reasons.
So, as I reduced my walking pace I rounded the first corner onto the estate with its clean red-brick detached houses, driveways and manicured lawns.
This was a world away from my own tiny flat, and a location I had been on my way too, until the divorce had financially cleaned me out.
