Kismet

Jorem picked up his bag, shifted around in his boots till he felt the familar curve of his sole slide into place and started out for the city centre. He resisted the urge to whistle as he strode through the street, conscious of his new public personality. He knew the people were watching him, he had become the object of much discussion now that he was a gentleman. Him and the government's exploration of the unknown forests on the outskirts of their city. 

He worked hard for his title as a doctor over ten years, keeping his head down and resisting the allure of taking non-government projects that paid much more. Living a simple and busy life, he had spent a large part of his time in Arleem sharpening his medical skill and practising as a doctor. On the sightly satisfying income he took every fortnight, he managed to carve out a little basement in his stone house that gave him some privacy to practise a little underground martial activity and fighting tactics, unbeknownst to his employers. In the corner of his cavern also lay an engineers' project - a strange array of tiny metal cones lying in a mess of wires and leatherette straps - that always looked unfinished no matter how long Jorem spent tinkering. 

No one knew about his basement, and the doctor was always careful to ensure that none of his patients noticed the tiny catch in the wall that opened into the steps that lead down into his secret lair.

This afternoon he was making a house call on one of the officers' wives who took ill after spending a few days at a friend's resort home. The woman was in a terrible mood and itched horribly, making her irate and angry enough to worry her important husband.

"Doctor, you're here," Irina the housemaid greeted Jorem at the door, just managing to conceal her fluster like the trained woman she was. "The master is looking forward to your visit, he's waiting for you in the hall," she said discreetly while leading him past the brightly lit foyer and into a well carpeted living room with carved wooden furniture.

The middle aged officer nodded when he saw the doctor, his anxiety barely showing beneath his stern face. "Jorem. Good that you're here. She's in the guestroom," he said pale, leading him to a room down the hallway.

The door opened and he saw Mrs Tucci lying facedown in bed. She turned her head around and started yelling when she heard the handle of the door rotate.

"Get out John, I've told you I want to be left alone!" she roared, her brown hair waving madly above her eyebrows, her eyes wide. Jorem waited a split second before stepping into her range of vision, calm and slightly apologetic.

"I'm sorry Mrs Tucci, he'll be in the hall. How can I help you?" he said smoothly, watching the petite woman shrink from the shock of seeing someone other than the recent object of her fury.

"It...it's just an itch," she said meekly," a terrible itch and it becomes so painful later in the day," she added grudgingly. Jorem wondered why she looked so sheepish and shy, a shade of the terrifying woman she was earlier.

She sat up to be examined as Jorem checked her pulse and took her temperature. "In which area is this itch ma'am?" he asked, busying himself with her documents. Her chest rose as she drew in her breath sharply, looking at Jorem uncomfortably.

She wasn't bad looking for her age, being so well maintained that she looked much younger than her 35 years. She had an air of youth and at the same time the wit that most ladies in her circle wished they had. The young men went as far as to think of her as attractive and often found themselves grinning themselves silly when they ever caught her eye.

In this particular moment she was delicately wonderful in her indecision and vulnerablity, her nervous laughter bells in the wind as she lifted her dress and motioned towards her nether regions.

Jorem looked up from his clipboard to the sudden silence and saw Mrs Tucci's inconvenient problem. Keeping his pause short, he soon became brisk. 

"Lie down and relax Mrs Tucci, I'll take some samples to send to the lab," he found some cotton swabs and their white envelopes, bent over to reach the lady's problem and retrieved what he needed. He'd seen infections like these before in all his years of practice, and was almost sure of what it was. "In the meanwhile I'll prescribe you some salve to keep the itching at bay Mrs Tucci," he said, packing away the samples and bringing out a tube of cream. 

"You'll be taking these samples and keeping it underground for me, I believe?" she asked, sitting up and smoothing her dress.

Jorem froze for a moment and looked up to see if she was only joking about her situation. Nobody had to know about his lab in the basement. Her eyes were teasing, but otherwise not malicious. He released his breath discreetly and gave her a tight smile. "Also, please, call me Theresa," she said.

"If you insist," he replied. "Apply this liberally, as many times as you wish, and I'll be back with your medication tomorrow evening," Jorem said, standing up and smiling politely. "Take care, Mrs Tucci. Well, Theresa," he said, nodded and left the room to meet with Mr Tucci.

#### to be continued ####