Worlds Collide

Sharon Andrews strode her long slim legs confidently down the carpeted central corridor. With her head held high, and her blonde shoulder length hair gently swaying, as she wore her power dressed formal weekday attire. Her firmly fitted black jacket, that hid the fact it was still last week's white blouse along with a below the knee black skirt. Her black lace slip gently swished against her black stocking covered thighs as she moved. She had to keep focused on the mission that was in front of her.

Sharon had to get all the way across the office from the lifts to her desk. It meant going between half a dozen waist high plain grey dividers that split the large bright and airy 4^th floor office space out into several open plan pods that was 'her office'. Her pod was the last one on the far right. With her stomach churning it was still quite a distance away. Some could say that her desk was in the most important corner, she had the advantage that she could see out over everyone. It was also the closest to the kitchen for the all-important and throughout the day the often-necessary coffee run. By two pm she would start yawning. The corner also had the advantage that she could hear all the gossip amongst the managers and subsequently laugh at them, when in the most sexist way possible called them all their 'clucking hens'. It was also in the corner, where she could slide down in her seat and technically hide from everyone, as she found that with her throbbing headache she often needed too.

It was eight fifty-eight and thirty seconds on Monday morning, she was almost always the last in, but no one seemed to care, as she was sitting at her desk bang on time. Sharon almost always got everything anyone needed done as she was willing to stay on late. Especially on a Friday night. It was easier to stay out if she worked later. She was the best at what she did, and management knew it. Sharon taking deep regular breaths carried her takeaway cup of double espresso shot in her right hand, it was her third coffee of the morning, and it was still not enough, she was contemplating a fourth. Her black handbag was on her left. She was polite and said morning to everyone, keeping one eye on the management offices whilst forcing a grin and raising her cup as a means of saying hello, asking how everyone's weekends went. Hoping to get to her seat as quickly as possible.

With a deep breath of preparation, she quickly settled down in her black off chair as the clock clicked nine. Now hiding from everyone and sighed a relief as she kicked her black 2" heeled shoes off under the desk. Annoyed with herself that her big toe was poking through the fabric. Then stretched her neck hoping to remove the crick in her back from sleeping awkwardly again. Falling asleep on the sofa was never a good idea. She then wiggled her black stocking covered, pink painted toes, noticing she really needed to cut and paint them again. Then opened her drawer and amongst the stash of chocolate bars and emergency sweets, and two if desperate cigarettes she pulled out her pack of paracetamol popped two tablets through the silver foil into the palm of her hand, shoved them in her mouth and then swallowed them down with the remains drips of her strong caffeine wincing in the process. She really hoped both the caffeine and the tablets would kick in soon.

Her almost eternal weekend headache was still banging its large bass drum, along with untuned untimed warming up orchestra hitting missing every note inside her still tired very weary and rather delicate skull. She dug into her purse, pushed the black cotton fabric further down and then found her lipstick and compact mirror focused on her face. It was scrubbed clean again this morning in a desperate attempt to feel alive, she had failed at that and also, she hadn't time to put any makeup on. The large, tired bags under her eyes showed exactly how she was feeling. Shattered. Nothing could hide it now. Normally she would have covered it all up with foundation, but this morning she had been inevitably running slightly late. She had hit the snooze button on her phone three times too many. Sharon pouted her lips and applied the glossy red lip covering. She did this believing that alone it would help her appearance and by magic remove her headache and of course make her day go better. Then through her thick rimmed glasses briefly focused on her computer screen and the weekend emails.

Her brief focus on the screen was soon interrupted with a "Ah Sharon!" Coming from Adam, her manager. His voice boomed out from his doorway, out over the top of the clattering of fingers on keyboards, and in the style of a meerkat she quickly raised her head above the parapet of the divider and peered back over and nervously smiled in acknowledgement. Smiling hello. "Great you're finally in, sorry to bother you, could you help me with something, nothing major I promise?" He practically shouted down the length of the room. Everyone now knew that she was required. A double-edged sword. With a deep breath she enthusiastically nodded and then instantly regretted doing so, as her brain sloshed within her skull as if it had disconnected itself from its anchors. She politely smiled whilst looking at him and forced a big grin as a smile back at him in agreement.

"On my way Adam." Her voice hoarsely crackled and croaked, the air from her lungs flowing over what could have been sandpaper. She screwed her face up and hacked a cough, having not spoken to anyone properly between saying good night to the taxi driver and waking up. She needed to clear the Shazza sized frog in her throat. Then with a deep sigh she almost crumpled in her chair as if her jacket shoulder pads were made with lead. Focusing intently on her legs annoyed with the confinement as she carefully put her feet back in her shoes. Pushed back her chair and steadily stood back up, briefly wobbling on her heels. Styling it out by adjusting her skirt. She had her mission, to head down the way she had just come. Before departing Sharon picked up some files off her desk before looking at Adam's office and heading that way.

***

The reason for her Monday morning headache is very simple, it's self-inflicted. From around six on Friday night to a certain group of friends Sharon is the party animal called Shazza. Shazza is the life and sole of the party, and to most of them if there is no Shazza, there isn't a party. A night out without Shazza is very much a bad one. She brought light and sparkle where there was darkness.

At eight fifty-eight on Friday, Saturday and more often than not, if the mood takes her on Sunday nights too, Shazza is more likely to be found at the seedy basement pub at the far end of town called FWB's. She is there from any time after six onwards with a collection of lone strays and acquaintances that would be attempting to drink the bar dry.

Within the group she was almost always the first to the bar, and almost always the last to leave.

On the previous Saturday night Shazza had knocked back yet another neat double vodka down her throat. She grinned triumphantly, licked her lips, then wiped her face with the back of her hand ignoring the burning feeling and focused on the alcohol hitting the bloodstream. Then gregariously waving the empty glass around in the air shouted over the background music to the poor bar man "Another round for my girls! I will pay whoop-whoop!" She accidentally banged the glass loudly on the counter as apologetically smiled at herself in the mirror behind the optics. Noticed her nipples were almost on show and tugged up her pink glittery boob tube that was already slipping back down her sweaty braless breasts. It was a reason to work late. Get undressed at her desk at work, celebrate removing the bra, and big panties and put on just a top and skirt. Then head out hunting for fun. Shazza again looked at herself in the mirror, three or four double vodkas' down and she looked fucking hot, her blonde locks tied back keeping her weary work face taught, her eyes were surrounded by her glittery blue mascara, her lips were glossed bright red, she felt and to her, looked amazing.

As the large, garish purple and green illuminated bar clock that very much fitted the decor ticked past nine, the cute dark haired, slim, and dark skinned, almost Spanish looking barman that she always called Pedro. Although he was actually called Steve, topped up six fresh glasses from the vodka bottle. Then predictably the girls all started banging their fists on the bar and chanting "down it, down it, down it." They all did and burst into a loud defining shrieking cacophony of giggles. The night was still very young. They were no longer sober. They were having fun.

With the glasses again empty, and music increased in level, this was the cue for Shazza to look to move. She then led the gaggle of girls to the empty dance floor, she swooped and on the second attempt grabbed hold of the shiny metal pole positioned in the middle of the room. With her left hand almost hugging it for stability. As the DJ clocked that she was now in position and as the music changed, and the tempo increased, her well lubricated hips gyrated to the beat. As her friends clapped and cheered, whilst holding on to the pole she squatted on the floor, her short green skirt riding up her slim white thighs as she tensed her pathetically small muscles. Her breasts practically fell out of her top as she stretched her arms, as her bare, waxed, glitter covered crotch was almost spot lit as for most of the next half hour she seductively slid up and down the polished metal tube in perfect syncopation to the music.

Sharon had always been a party animal, her mum and dad owned several pubs for over the years, as such alcohol was no stranger to her. Her brother now owned FWB which is why she loved spending her nights there. Most people would want to bar hop, but she saw it as she was helping her big brother out. Plus, his staff would ensure if on the rare occasions she was still there alone at closing time that she was safe in the back of the taxi. Craig was relieved that he could also keep an eye on his little sister. Ultimately, she felt safe getting very drunk there.

The late-night lock-ins at her parents' pub were infamous in the village where she lived. Her mum used to throw the most amazing parties, with plenty of drinks and food, and played music long into the night as people would dance away.

Shazza loved to dance too, as a child she had dreams of being a ballet dancer, and then a little older as a professional disco dancer, but with bills to pay, her parents suggested a real job during the day. So, dancing in bars and nightclubs was the next best thing. Who needed a gym when you danced at least three nights a week all night long? She thought she was amazing; people occasionally actually stopped to watch and enjoy their drinks when she was dancing. Then because they watched, she thought she was that good as she flung herself around, however drunk she was.

When Shazza drank she felt invincible, she felt on top of the world, right at the very pinnacle of the snow topped Everest. Drinking and dancing made the world feel right. Her body and the music entwined together into a very special place; the alcohol blocked off everything and she could lose herself from every worry in the real outside world.

Shazza drank a lot because it made her feel a better person. During the week Sharon would compensate for the weekend fun and sit there at her desk and finish work long after the others had left. Then as she slowly walked home past the pub at the end of the road. Shazza would then take her inside for a drink or two. Whether Sharon really wanted to or not. There was nothing to get home for.

After a couple or more shots in the bar, they would go home, there would then be a bottle of wine with the microwave meal bought from Tesco for dinner that would last the rest of the evening. Even Shazza tried to be good on weekday nights, it was a different matter at the weekends where she would often drink until she could no longer stand up. But as Sharon she still worked hard during the weekday and Shazza would celebrate that fact in the evenings. They survived in tandem over the years burning the candle at both ends, but she got her work done and done well. She was lucky, throughout the years, she never really got a 'can't move and need to spend the day in bed' hangover. She found that paracetamol and plenty of coffee, she could soon luckily glide through the following day.

Yet another round of downed double vodka drinks and Shazza was again dancing in the middle of her friends on the dance floor. When at a little after ten thirty a group of six well dressed, but obviously beer loaded guys stomped down the stone steps. She knew this was her time to shine. They congregated by the bar, ordered their pinks and Jack Daniels and cokes, and watched on.

The gaggle of girls and their gay friend Dave created their own little fortress in the middle of the dance floor as they bounced, laughed, and swayed to the music.

Sharon nodded her head in the direction of the bar lined with blurry handsome men and made the hand single for another drink, and the girls all soon agreed. They followed her like lemmings back to the bar, seeing their nights prey lined up.

It didn't take Tracey long in her low-cut glittery dress to get the dark-haired man called Chris to agree to buy the girls all a drink, and as ever it didn't take the girls long to down them. Then whilst they were all grinning and laughing to cheekily ask for another. They did this most weekends, it was what they did best. They tried to drink the bar dry and get someone else to pay.

The room was spinning with the lights, music, the movement of her friends and the hot men, and with the plenty of drinks in her bloodstream it was Shazza's perfect territory. She dragged the girls and the reluctant guys back on the dancefloor, she knew tonight was going to be fun. The twelve of them bobbed and bounced to the music swinging their arms and wiggling their hips, her bottom collided with a guy, she waggled her thighs, almost rutting against him in rhythm of the music whilst continuing to bounce against him, letting him know she was there and like a bee available.

With her glasses off, and the world swirling she just rode the wave, the lights flashing, her heart pumping, he spun around and put his firm hands on her bare hips and pulled her closer, they danced rhythmically almost twirling together, his hands grabbed her buttocks and pulled her closer to his hips as they danced. Neither of them now was hitting the rhythmic beat of the music as they moved their bodies together the best they could. His large firm hands squeezed her soft buttocks harder as she ran both her hands down his sweaty shirt covered back.

He smiled as he looked down at her and with his beery breath breathlessly said, "I need a piss; I will be right back!" Then dropped his hands from her body and wriggled free of her arms and disappeared into the darkness.

She momentarily frowned and continued to throw shapes with her hips to the beat of the music as she tugged her skirt back down her thighs a little and then swaying in time to the music as she then moved through the dance floor, she then grabbed Tracy's arm and pulled her away from her catch to take her to the bathroom too.

They took turns to look in the broken single mirror that someone had clearly punched back in time and adjusted their clothing and grinned at each other "Oh this is fun!" Shazza stated as she reapplied her lipstick and pouted her lips.

"Oh, babes it is, whose yours is called, mine is Pete?" Tracey asked as she ran her hand through her hair.

"I have no idea, and I don't care, he is gorgeous and fucking hot!" Shazza grinned whilst tugging and rearranging her boob tube yet again.

"Will you fuck him?"

"Hell yeah, if I can, I, fucking will!" She cackled her laugh and let go of the sink swaying whilst bopping to the music blaring through the thin walls. "He looks amazing!"

"Come one then, let's go in for the kill." Tracey replied, wiping her hands dry on her dress.

"Fuck it, let's get another drink, I am parched!" Shazza replied, as the door opened the sound of the deafening music increased and they headed back out again.

***

Sharon smiled as she quietly flicked her top with her nails and undid the top two buttons on her blouse, held her papers close to chest and with her heart thumping strode back down the carpeted path to Adam's office. She held her head high as everyone looked on, their eyebrows twitching slightly in concern as Adam almost never asked for help with anything.

***

Shazza looked around hunting through her fuzzy swirling view for her man as the lights flashed and the music beat thundered on, she eventually staggered and stumbled landing in right area of the bar and found her tall dark-haired man leaning against it, and with two huffs and a couple of uncoordinated attempts she hopped on to the bar stool beside him flashing a lot of smooth shiny legs as rested her elbow on the bar.

"Oh, you have returned, thought I'd lost you, what can I get you?" He asked politely.

She grinned "I found you, I'm Shazza and I drink large double vodkas, neat, not rocks!" she confidently, forwardly, and rather drunkenly slurred as she smiled at him trying to work out who he was. Even with the bright bar lights the world was blurry without her glasses or contacts, not helped by plenty of the drink, but she could tell he looked good.

"Sounds good, I will join you Shazza!" he replied, taking a good look at her, and then got Steve's attention and asked for two drinks.

"Thens we can dance!" She drunkenly replied informatively. "Togethers!" she slurred.

He smiled at the drunk Shazza "I guess that is not a problem." He replied not stating his name as he opened his wallet and touched his card against the machine.

She clocked no wedding ring on his finger, instantly necked her drink in one, licked her lips and then grinned at the success as the alcohol burned her throat. "Come on, let's dance." She purred.

Shazza slowly slid off the stool, the back of her short green skirt caught on the leather seat and rode up revealing her glitter covered bare crotch to the man, who smiled appreciatively as she slowly and seductively tugged and adjusted her skirt back down and protected what little was left of her modesty. Then with her arm outstretched grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the dance floor as swiftly as she drunkenly as she could. His eyes were fixated with her cute swaying bottom, the disco lights brightly flashing and highlighting the twisted skirt which was now not covering the lower quarter of her left buttock knowing what was under that incredibly short skirt.

***

Sharon knocked on the door, nervously adjusted her jacket, doing the second button up, then wiped the building sweat from her hands on her skirt and held the files close to her now loudly thumping chest as Adam called out "Enter".

***

As the town's church bells struck twelve, they fell into the back of the taxi together, he declared that they had to go to hers. She leaned then fell on him, her lips locked with his yet again as she passionately kissed him as his hand stroked her thigh, as the driver politely coughed, they both giggled as they stopped, and she quickly agreed giving the driver her address. His strong hands stayed firmly on her knee as she kissed him once more before resting her drunken head on his shoulder as the taxi drove through downtown the three blocks to her flat.

When they pulled up outside her place, once the driver turned on the almost sobering internal light, the realisation swirled around the cab and then hit her squarely on the forehead who her prey was when she finally saw his name embossed as he kindly offered to pay on his card.