I adjusted my dress nervously, looking around the crowded restaurant in anticipation. I'd been looking forwards to this date since Morndas, and now, sitting at a table waiting to meet my date, my excitement had reached a fever pitch. I was dressed to the nine divines, in my slinkiest set of shrouded leather armor, and wearing a fire-salt red shade of lip gloss that left me looking spicier than the hottest atronach. I'd even broken out my most expensive bottle of Telvanni Bug Musk for the occasion. It was the perfect blend of formal and enticing: 'Stendarr in the streets, Mara between the sheets', as my mother used to say. Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I glanced at my thot-box, and saw it was only just 6 PM now. In my eagerness to meet him, I'd arrived early.
As if by Mysticism, he appeared all of a sudden, striding through the crowd towards me. He looked just like his dreamsleeve-web simulacrum; seven foot tall, his muscular ashen-skinned form glistening as if oiled. He wore a dwemer deathmask of craftsmanship to rival walk-brass itself, carved with three sightless eyes, it's lips pursed with intrigue. He was dressed only in a loincloth and shin-bracers, leaving his sculpted form on display for all. I drank in the sight of him with a barely-concealed thirst, letting my gaze roam across every inch of his divine physique.
"Welcome, ${name}, to this place where destiny is made." he greeted me, pulling out a chair and taking a seat. My heart was aflutter, and I couldn't help but smile warmly at his words.
"I've been looking forwards to this all week." I confessed, passing him the menu. "It's nice to meet you in person, at last."
"Now that you have come here to me, there can be but one result." Dagoth Ur responded, nodding his head politely at me. "Many times I have considered offering to share this place with you."
"I'm glad you finally did!" I purred, all but melting at his words.
Our conversation was interrupted by the approach of a Bosmer waiter, ready to take our order. I had long since decided on what I wanted: roast Guar, with Hackle-Lo seasoning and a side of Saltrice. Dagoth Ur deliberated for a moment, before setting on the Chef's Corprus, and ordering a bottle of Ancient Dagoth Brandy for us.
I almost swooned at the gesture—Dagoth Brandy was an exceptionally rare and expensive drink, normally reserved for events like weddings. To think he'd be willing to spend so many septims on our first date—and on a ${race} like me, no less—made me feel almost honored by his attentions. A silence fell, and desperate to make a good impression, I felt suddenly self-conscious, almost inadequate.
"Um... have you heard of the High Elves?" I asked, immediately regretting the awkward attempt at small talk.
"Yes, of course," the Sharmat replied, his warm tone immediately setting me at ease. He reached across the table to place his strong, ashen hand on mine in a comforting gesture. His touch was electric, and for a moment I found myself wondering he had cast a spell of Shockbite. The alchemy between the two of us was palpable, the air thick with sexual tension. Tentatively, I placed my hand gently on his knee beneath the cover of the table, letting it creep slowly up his thigh.
"Is this how you honor the Sixth House, and the tribe unmourned?" Dagoth Ur asked sternly, the irritation obvious in his deep, booming voice.
"I-I'm sorry," I stuttered, quickly withdrawing my hand. Had I misread the situation? Ruined everything by trying to move too quickly? "I was just trying to-"
"You are bold. I honor your independence," the Sharmat cut me off, this time in a softer, more understanding tone: "Come to me openly, and not by stealth."
"Of course." I muttered, turning my head in an effort to conceal the obvious blush spreading across my cheeks. Dagoth Ur let out a chuckle at this, and as the tension broke, I couldn't help but follow suit. Soon both of us were laughing.
"Oh, dear me. Forgive me, but I am enjoying this." Dagoth Ur confessed with another chuckle: "What a grand and intoxicating innocence."
I opened my mouth to retort that I wasn't so innocent, but at that moment the waiter reappeared, setting our meals on the table before us. My mouth watered at the sight of my plate—the Guar looked absolutely delectable. The enticing scent tantalized my nostrils, tempting me.
"If you are impatient to begin, go ahead." Dagoth Ur offered, uncorking the ancient bottle of Brandy and pouring us a glass each, before adding mischievously: "Or would you prefer to skip the speeches, and get to our business?"