A Dance with Death

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Chapter 3

To my surprise two weeks later, a private number called me three times in a row. There were no messages left, but I just knew deep down that it was Mors trying to get in touch.

He didn't try and call again until three days after his first attempt. Luckily, I was on a break and was finally able to answer his call.

There was silence on the other end for a good fifteen seconds until he finally got the courage to speak.

"Roku, It's Mors. I would be interested in taking you up on your offer. Did you want to go out tonight?"

I was flabbergasted, I did not expect him to ring me. I had all but given up, when a week had passed and I had not heard from him.

I gulped nervously, and replied

"Oh, Okay. I would love too, Mors. Where are we going? What time? And did you want me to meet you there?"

Mors paused,

"No. I will pick you up. Seven o clock, suitable?" He replied in a professional tone, like he was setting up a meeting with a work colleague, not a date with a potential partner.

"Okay. I will see you at seven Mors. I look forward to it." I answered.

"Bye." Was all that was said before I heard the end of call tone.

I also hung up, that was a very strange phonecall. I sat in silence trying to wrap my head around the conversation or more like lack there of conversation. Then it dawned on me, how did he know where I lived? I gave him my number and name but not my address.

The rest of the day passed in a blurr, I was on autopilot for the entire afternoon. I made sure I left work on time and tried to get home at a decent hour. Unfortunately, when my taxi finally arrived and then the time it took to navigate through peak hour traffic, I ended up being late.

I arrived home with a whole thirty minutes; to shower, preen, and get dressed before Mors arrived. I hoped my speedy shower was good enough. I slapped on some cologne, desperately searched my wardrobe for a fashionable, decent, and nicely coordinated outfit.

Just as I pulled my belt tight around me the doorbell rang. I groaned as I ran towards the door, barefoot, carrying my shoes with a fresh ball of socks in my mouth.

I opened the door, there he was sharply dressed in his unique forties style clothing with a slight smile on his face. I motioned for him to come in, he obliged. I pointed to my lounge and we both went over. I flopped down on the lounge, the leather creaked and sputtered under my weight, put my shoes down then removed the ball of socks from my mouth. He sat and watched me. Not a word escaped his perfect, pink lips. My face went red, I sensed he was watching me, observing my every move.

This was slightly unsettling, but Mors was a very unique sort of man, in more ways than one. Knowing that Mors was a bit strange, my interest in him grew.

Once I was finally ready, I found my wallet, keys and followed Mors to his car. I was half expecting his car to be something like an old ford model 18 V8 or a Cadillac; black, with white walls. But to my surprise and slight disappointment he drove a silver Camry just your everyday, standard Camry.

He opened the door for me, it was a gentlemanly gesture, and I blushed. It had been sometime since I was treated in such a way.

He closed the door and got in. He paused, looked over to me and said,

"Are you wearing your seatbelt?"

I nodded,

"Good, we're ready to go."

We didn't speak another word to each other until we reached the restaurant. The atmosphere was calm and relaxing with full view of the ocean.

We were given a seat right next to a dock. The salty air filled my nostrils, and the waves lapped at the wood. The lights of the city reflected in the small hypnotising waves, that rose and fell with every passing boat or when the ferry pulled in, dropped off its passengers and left again.

We chose our meals, Mors ordered them and brought over drinks on his return.

We sat in an unbearable silence, so I tried to start some small talk.

"So Mors, what do you do for a living?"

He looked up at me, those piercing blue eyes, flickered in the soft light of the patio heater that took the chill off the ocean breeze.

"I work in the collection business." He replied.

"Ahh! Like debt collection?" I answered.

Mors nodded slowly,

"Yes, you could say that."

I continued asking him about his life. He had no family alive, no children either, which was quite sad. He was only in his thirties like myself. At least my Father, step mother and brother were still alive.

He lived on the opposite side of the city to me and spent most of his days and nights working or if he had a day or night off he was still on call.

As expected he didn't much identify with the local gay scene and felt he was too old for it, exactly like I did. The conversation was very general and we really didn't get into anything in depth. I kept my mouth shut about Matt, I wasn't ready to tell him yet. However, I did enjoy spending time with Mors.

Mors pulled into the driveway and walked me to the door. His eyes seemed softer, we awkwardly went to say goodbye. I had the urge to kiss Mors. As he was opening his mouth to say goodbye, I leaned in and tried to kiss him. He reeled back and I got a mouthful of air. I was hurt, he seemed to be repelled by me. Before I could apologise, he was already at the door of his Camry. He gave a quick wave. jumped in the car, reversed onto the road and disappeared into the night.

My face burnt with embarrassment, as the sting of rejection pierced my heart. I fumbled with my keys, trying to find the key hole. I had royally screwed my chance with Mors now.

I thought he liked me, his eyes were soft and I felt he wanted to kiss me. Why didn't he? Why did he reel back when I tried? Those were only a small sample of what questions swirled around my mind that night as I tried to sleep.

Sleep and I did not meet. I was relieved that it was Saturday tomorrow and I could catch up on the sleep I missed during the day.

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