Chapter 7: A Dinner for Two
A delightfully piquant salty aftertaste in his mouth, Castorius had even more anticipation for what was to come next.
After they had spent the better part of an hour making love—for that it was what he chose to call it, even if that was stretching it in terms of accuracy of description pertaining to the factual content of the transaction—there was no more prolonging the unavoidable. Castorius' stomach demanded all the equivalent gratification and nurture as had just befallen his nether colleague. And it, alongside with his crony Palate, was about to receive an indulgence nearly worth the past days of drudgery and squalor.
In other words, it was time for some food.
One nice feature of Alva—in addition to her shapely breasts and her fully-curved posterior—was that for a woman she had a very good grasp on preparing a tasty meal. She also shared Castorius' enthusiasm for eating well, and it fortunately looked as if the fuel she ingested went straight into those full, pleasing to both eye and touch proportions of her form.
She laid the trencher on the table, food steaming and emitting a vibrant aroma that—now that his other urges had been duly sated—set Castorius' whole being in a state of anticipation.
The main course of today was boar, chopped into pieces sized about half a fist, roasted while wrapped in thin slices of bacon—a method called barding. The idea of the bacon was to give the naturally dry meat the juiciness it begged for.
The food was excellent, consistency of the meat just perfect, and the two distinct aromas of pork played together in a smooth harmony—the boar taming the overtly greasy nature of the bacon, and the bacon itself lending the dry boar some of its succulence.
The wine that went with it, however, left something to hope for. It was alright, but just that. Unimaginative, without dimension or variety. It had a single flavor at the first mouthful, and it never went anywhere. Bulk, in a word.
Castorius found himself pining for the wine made in the arid and temperate climate of Colovia in the south of Cyrodiil. Yes, that would have been just perfect for boar.
Alva smiled at Castorius, returning him to here and now. "You didn't tell me you were in the military," she cooed, obviously not entirely displeased by this revelation.
"I didn't?" Castorius could have sworn he had. But then he scarcely had any memory of what lies he'd fed this particular woman.
"Nuh-uh," Alva reprimanded, a sly smile on her, "you told me you worked as a fisher."
"Ah." So that story-line. Castorius only employed it very occasionally, as it hardly impressed most women. "Well, I do fish . . . " He'd caught a small roach on line and sinker once. "At times."
Alva slanted a look under her sharply drawn dark brows, as to say, "come on, now."
"Tell you the truth," Castorius said. More like anything but. "I'm not at liberty to reveal details." He tapped the side of his nose. "Top secret Imperial business." He hoped that in the likely case of her not buying it, the whole thing might pass for a jest.
But Alva just pursed her lips, impressed, and evidently quite excited as well. "Well, I'd never have guessed." She took another bite of her food, but kept her eyes on Castorius. He thought she looked at him sort of funny now, but did his best not to make anything of it. Had he spoken in haste?
After some minutes of silence, save for the two chewing mouths and the hearth crackling in the background, Alva took a sip of her wine, then set the goblet down. She gave him a wide smile, her teeth stained purple, and said, "I like the uniform, though. Makes you look very manly." She reached a hand over the table, placing it atop Castorius'. "And very handsome. Almost regally so."
"Mm hmm," Castorius muttered, drinking his wine.
Alva leaned in closer, and said in a half-whisper, "Maybe you could be my prince."
Castorius nearly spewed his wine on the woman—sent to coughing as the wine lost its sense of direction on its way down his tubes.
"You alright?" Alva asked, pulling back her hand.
"Oh sure, sure." croaked Castorius between hacking, beating at his chest. He took a long drink of water. "I'm fine."
Alva leaned back and studied him, half of her looking as enraptured as just a second ago, the other half with a dawning pensiveness. "You don't like the prospect, then?"
That was clearly an attempt for a set-up. Castorius would never fall for one of those. "But what of your husband?" he said. Guilt, that generally worked like a charm.
Seemed to be the right approach, too. "Oh, I know!" Alva started "It's just—", then looked away, chewing on her lower lip.
The age-difference between Alva and the husband in question was quite steep. It did not exactly strike Castorius as a marriage based on love, or even passion. And those were some nice clothes that she liked to wear . . .
Alva turned her aggrieved eyes back to him. "It's just, he's away so much. And when he is back, well—I don't know if I quite know him anymore. He can be snappy and cranky, and . . ." she paused, "frankly quite mean."
"He hit you?" Castorius felt a stab of anger. He was not the bravest, most noblest of men, but it took a special sort of coward to—
"No, no!" Alva hastened to say, "Nothing like that." She looked at Castorius with the most earnest look he'd seen on anyone for quite some time. "But while I normally fear each time he's away, fear he will not return, then on others . . . " She sighed and stared at the table. "Other times I wish that he would not." She slapped a hand over her mouth, like she'd let escape something she'd not meant to. Her large eyes widened to saucer-sized. "Oh, does it make me a monster to speak like this?" Her eyes on Castorius had the desperate clinging of someone about to drown
"No, no—of course not!" Castorius soothed. He'd laid eyes on monsters in his time, and none had come with beauty like Alva's. A certain bleak-skinned witch from Solitude popped to mind. "You're no monster. It's perfectly natural to feel that sometimes." Castorius, a bit at a loss, was definitely far from his own are of expertise. He wasn't sure if he'd chosen his words right.
They seemed to be enough for Alva, though, as she was smiling again. "Nice of you to say that," she said. The dread in her bearing seemed to vanish in thin air, and just like that she was back to normal.
A little something had changed, though: the adoring nature of the look she gave Castorius looked to have further intensified. Then she was having her third goblet of wine . . . "You're always so nice to me," she said. "It's rare to meet someone like that."
Uh oh.
Castorius finished up his goblet. This party seemed just about drawing to a close. Alva grabbed the flagon and proffered it towards Castorius. He lifted a fending hand. "No thanks, I've had plenty."
Alva, cocking a brow, said, "You've had half a goblet."
"That's plenty for me," replied Castorius.
Alva grunted softly, then refilled her own goblet, still halfway full. She took a long drink, giving Castorius an affectionate glance over the rim. Her smiling eyes were alight with entertained tenderness. "You're a silly man," she said, finally putting the goblet down, and gave a little giggle. She picked the goblet up again. Another gulp, and her smile was washed away. "But also a nice man."
Uh oh!
Suddenly this was not going too well. A nice man? In Castorius' mind, there was only a very limited number of uses for such a creature. Another species of spider sprung to mind—one in which the female was not content to simply eat the male after coupling, but would lay her eggs inside him. And, once the eggs hatched, the hundred little creepy-crawly spider-babies would then devour him.
Alive. From within.
A minor panic stirred inside him. He hastily finished up his water. Then he slammed his palms on the table, puffed his cheeks, and said, "I'm afraid I have to keep going, Alva," trying his best to play it cool, and not reveal how he was really feeling.
"Oh no!" Alva said, sounding alarmed. "Don't go yet!"
The look on her face only served to firm up Castorius' resolve. "I'm afraid I have no choice," he said. "I'm on a mission, you see." He started to rise.
Alva reached her hand over the table to grab his. Her fingers were soft, and Castorius' determination wavered a fraction. Oh no you don't! But he thought he felt some hesitation radiating from the lower offices.
Alva, as if readily reading into this specter of apprehension, smiled. "You could stay just one night? You never have before . . ." Her lips puckered up to a feigned pout.
Aha! Guilt. So obviously two could play at that game.
Luckily, Castorius was immune. Clearing his throat, he said, "Yes, I know. And I'd like to stay—I really would. But perhaps some other time. See—"
Alva stopped him—at just the right time, too, for he had no idea what he was going to say—by pressing one of those soft fingers on his lips. "Hush," she whispered, and slowly started to slide down on her seat. She sank under the table, her lips gently parted and sporting a playful smile. Her head then disappeared from view.
"What—" Castorius frowned. Then he felt a tug. "Oh."
There was still some food left on the plate in front of him. He figured he might as well finish it, since the way it looked now he'd be sticking around just a little while longer. It was not too oft, after all, the two dominant forces of his life were getting their dues paid at the exact same time. He could count maybe only once or twice before.
He thought the whole situation was a bit like a snake devouring itself.
Or perhaps a dog chasing its own tail.
Castorius slowly chewed on his food, breathing very deeply. In and out, in and out. Alva was admittedly very good and minding her teeth. Castorius smiled between bites. Outside, a ray of sunlight was forcing its way through what had seemed like an impenetrable layer of mist.
Sure enough: despite everything, the day so far just kept getting better and better.