Love's courage. Mokopi Shale

a long breath, releases it and then says, “I want it fast, all right . . . Okay, but I would also have to ask you some questions.”

      “No problem; whatever you need.”

      Lesego purses her lips and sucks her bottom lip into her mouth. His eyes seem to devour her and she suddenly feels the need to fan herself.

      “Right then, let’s begin,” he says.

      “Fine. Are you a serial killer?”

      He bursts out laughing. “Are you serious? If I were, would I tell you? Wouldn’t you just find yourself at the receiving end of my torture tools?”

      “You have torture tools?” she asks, widening her eyes in a mocking way.

      “Do I look like I have a need to torture women? No, I’m not a serial killer and I don’t have torture tools.”

      “Do you have your own place?”

      “What? This is ridiculous. Why are you asking these unrelated questions?” he asks, a little exasperated.

      In reply he gets another wide-eyed look, a slight shake of the head and a small shrug while the book is waved in his face.

      “Okay, fine – I own my own house.”

      “Good,” she says. “That means you’re gainfully employed, then?”

      He is about to argue that when she gives him the same mocking look.

      “Yes, I am gainfully employed . . . Your turn now. Is there a history of mental illness in your family?”

      She smiles charmingly and says, “No.”

      “Have you ever stalked a man?”

      She raises her eyebrows and gives him an amused look. “No, I’ve never had the time.”

      “Are you gainfully employed?”

      “Yes, I am gainfully employed.”

      “Are you looking to get married?”

      “No, not any time soon; I have too much to achieve and a husband might hold me back.”

      He cocks his head, surprised at her answer. “How old are you?”

      “I could be a typical female and lie, but I think the age thing is a lot of bull. I’m twenty-nine.”

      “You’re very interesting. Can I have your number?”

      “Sure. Give me your phone.”

      He hands it to her, and while putting in her details, she says, “I won’t ask for yours. So, I leave the ball in your court, sir. Then you have the opportunity to chicken out.”

      “Who says I’ll do that?”

      “You’re a man. You’re probably involved and you’re probably afraid of strong women. So, it computes.”

      “Wow, you’re quite cheeky.”

      “Said the kettle to the pot. What’s your name, by the way?”

      “Kenneth,” he says, extending his hand.

      When their hands clasp, they both gasp as an electric shock of excitement travels through their arms and settles firmly in their groins. They both swallow, they both lick their lips.

      “Kenny, did you find . . . Oh, sorry.” Their reverie is interrupted by a pretty woman who flashes a brittle smile at Lesego. “Who’s this?”

      “This is Lesego; Lesego, meet Thandi.”

      The women nod at each other.

      Then Lesego coos, “I have to go,” flashing a smug look at him that says, “Was I right, or was I right?” He gives her a confused look and is about to tell her that she is wrong, when Thandi’s red nails clasp his arm and she cuddles up close to him, batting her eyelashes.

      Lesego laughs at Kenneth, causing Thandi to clench her jaw in irritation, wondering if she is laughing at her. “Sorry, private joke. Your move,” Lesego says to Kenneth and gives him a wink. “Nice to meet you,” she bids Thandi farewell and walks off.

      She looks like a model on a runway, but it’s no affectation; that’s just the way Lesego moves. Kenneth can’t help but check out her rear and he looks mightily impressed. Thandi snorts. He glances down her bony figure and thinks: A girl needs to eat now and then. But out loud he says, “Shall we go?”

      Kenneth and Thandi head for the door. When they pass the counter, Lesego glances their way and exchanges another cheeky grin with him. She sighs and under her breath she sings to herself, “Pom-pom-pom . . . Another one bites the dust!”

      * * *

      Later that afternoon Lesego is lying on a lounging chair in her garden, wearing a bright green bikini and orange sarong, reading her book and listening to Marvin Gaye, when her phone’s message tone goes off. She picks it up and reads:

      It’s not what you think, smarty-pants. Kenny.

      She smiles, then replies:

      Hao! You don’t have to explain anything to me. I’m not your girlfriend, just a woman who’ll give you what you want.

      She adds a cute emoticon at the end of the sentence, and as she waits for a delivery report, she saves his number into her phone.

      He responds:

      Cheeky! . . . I think the other one’s a stalker. She has just started working at our offices and we met up by chance last night when I was out with the boys. She somehow found out where I lived and showed up wearing very little. The only way I could get rid of her was to take her out to lunch.

      Without missing a beat, Lesego shoots back:

      Ao, you don’t have to explain. That’s what you get for going out with an anorexic. The starvation affects their reasoning abilities.

      Kenneth bursts out laughing where he is lying on his couch, facing the garden with his large glass doors open, the Saturday paper in his lap, listening to Marvin Gaye. He types:

      Lol. I told you I’m not seeing her. When can I see you though? Find you fascinating.

      Lesego answers:

      I’m a bit hectic at the mo and haven’t had enough time to assess whether you’re a serial killer. So you’ll have to prove you’re worthy of my trust before I agree to see you.

      Ahhh! The lady’s been burned. Okay, what would convince you?’

      If I told you, you would do it, but you may still be a serial killer. You’ll have to find a way yourself.

      Fair enough. What you up to?

      She replies:

      Reading the book that introduced us. What serendipity. It’s like our ancestors conspired to introduce us to each other, using our culture as the connector.

      Interesting thought. What would that mean then? That we are fated to be together? Are you hitting on me?

      He smiles while adding a devil emoticon at the end of the message.

      No, I’m not trying to say we were fated to meet. But maybe we’ll learn things from each other before we part ways. Like I said, I’m not looking for a long-term commitment.

      So what? You only want me for my hot body?

      She grins and writes:

      And if I was?

      You can have it. I know I want you for your hot body.

      Is that all then? Just sex?

      Wow, you’re blunt. No, I find you fascinating, and hot as well. Maybe you’re the full package I’ve been looking for.

      This time he adds a smiling emoticon.

      She feels a little flattered but quickly suppresses