I tiptoed my way through Understone Keep, not to be sneaky, but to exaggerate my movements. The guards paid me no mind as I sauntered up to where Anton Virane had been staying. If I was lucky, he was a Gauis Maro type, already awaiting the arrival of a seductress like myself. It was odd to think of myself in such a way, but in the low-cut gown I was wearing, it was hard not to. It was a deep maroon piece that accentuated my eyes. A long slit had been sewn into the side to show off my muscular legs, as well as give me easy access to the dagger strapped to my thigh. The dress was tighter than it needed to be around the hips, but I didn't mind. For the first time ever, I felt undeniably sexy. My face flushed thinking back on the several times Cicero and I had practiced the sultry movements on each other. I daresay that we may have reached perfection many times before we had stopped. I wiped the face-reddening thoughts from my mind as Anton came into view. I leaned into the doorway, calm and casual.

"Yes, yes, for the hundredth time, I am a Breton. I was born in High Rock and then I came here. I am not a Reachman!" Anton said before I even had the time to utter a greeting. His thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of his nose in exacerbation. It was a relief. This was my first hands-on contract. I'm lucky that he wasn't someone who could identify me as the Dragonborn's apprentice.

"Ah yes, High Rock," I said slowly, concealing my annoyance. I didn't want to end his life before I had my fun, but I had a feeling that his temper was going to test me. "Home of exquisite Breton cuisine." I licked my bottom lip and gave it a small bite, something I had earlier found out drove Cicero sane.

"Who are you? What do you want?" His eyebrow raised with curiosity and caution. I wondered how long it would take for the curiosity to deplete.

"I know who you are, Anton Virane. And where you're from." I took a few steps towards to man, hips swaying as I put one leg in front of the other. "You're only the greatest chef in all of Tamriel." He rolled his eyes.

"I believe you are mistaken. You're thinking of the Gourmet." He turned his back to me, expecting that I would leave after hearing the news. It gave me just the advantage I needed. I took the opportunity to close the space between us and run my hands down his back.

"I'm talking about you. A Breton of true culinary skill."

"Who are you?" He asked once more. "Why are you here?" He tried to steady his voice but was drowning hopelessly at the sight of me this close. When I had shown Cicero the dress, it had roughly the same effect.

"I think you know why I'm here," I pushed him back onto the bed behind him. "I want a taste of real breton cuisine." I pulled the strings holding my bosom together out of their holes, opening the gap that much further. Thigh worked at the fabric of Virane's pants in the way Cicero had to me, his legs parted just the same. "You may have the rest of Skyrim fooled, but not me Mr. Virane, or should I say," I leaned in close to whisper the last untrue words in his ear. "Mr. Gourmet."

"M-me? The Gourmet? Don't be preposterous," he whimpered with bated breath.

"I'm not. It's clear that the Groumet in none other than the highly skilled chef who claimed to serve him," My mouth latched onto his neck and gave a small nip. If Cicero hadn't had been the one who taught me, I may have worried over how jealous he would be right now. I traced small circles onto his chest, feeling the racing heart beat that would soon be stilled. "And if you're not the gourmet…" I removed my presence in an instant and began to walk away.

"Wait, wait, wait!" He pleaded. I turned and shot him a knowing look. "I am not the Gourmet, but I do know him! His name is Balagog gro-Nolob and he's staying at the Nightgate Inn! You can meet him! He can cook for you! We'll grab a carriage right after we –" We weren't going to call a carriage, not while my blade was sunk to the handle in his back. Without another sound he slunk back onto the bed.

"Of course, Anton. Thank you," I smiled, being more pleased with myself than I probably should have been.

…

I thought about going back to Dawnstar to relay the news to Cicero about how well my contract had gone but was too caught up in the high of my last kill. Anton was liquid in my seductive hands. No blade, bow, or dagger had ever made me feel more powerful. I rode Shadowmere to the Pale and didn't look back.

"You served your last meal Gourmet," I spoke to the orc on the doc of the inn. My sneak skills had been shoved deep into the back of my mind, for now I was all confidence. I hadn't even bothered to change out of my blood-soaked gown or conceal my crusty dagger.

"Gourmet? Why I... Um... Oh dear." His face, at the sight of me, went slack with realization. "You're going to kill me now, aren't you?"

"Yup." My blade landed in a fitting place, his stomach. He crumpled and fell into a watery grave.