Chapter 3: Treating Clarissa

When Santino realized his eyes had been glued to Elise's chest, she flushed, torn between annoyance and laughter. "Had your fill of staring? If you've seen enough, help me up so I can put my clothes on." "Oh… oh, right!" He jerked as if burned, embarrassed to be caught peeking. "You little rascal," Elise huffed, though her tone softened. "Such a dirty mind at your age." Then she tipped him a quick smile. "Still, thank you. You saved my life." She slipped back into her blouse, and Santino dragged his gaze away, reluctant as hell. He straightened and called out, loud enough for the villagers to hear, "You can turn around now!" At once, the villagers, who had turned their backs, looked over. Seeing Elise unharmed, they drifted off, returning to their chores. Elise glanced at Santino. "Thanks again. Come by my place another day. I'll cook for you." She got to her feet. Her clothes clung, soaked through. She clearly needed to change. She thanked him once more and headed home. Santino watched her figure glide past, the memory of her chest in his hands lingering. He wondered, with a lift at the corner of his mouth, if Clementine's breasts would feel like Elise's, and which of the two was fuller. "Hey, Santino, what are you grinning at?" Clarissa stepped up beside him. "Uh, nothing. Why haven't you headed home?" he asked. "Santino, can you treat any illness?" She seemed a little shy. "More or less," he said. "But I need to know what it is to say whether I can help." She did not look ill.  "Clarissa, if something's bothering you, tell me." Color swept up her cheeks. She fidgeted. "I'd rather not say out here. Come home with me. I'll explain there." He frowned, puzzled. What sort of illness needed privacy? "Just say it, Clarissa. What's there to be embarrassed about?" She tapped his shoulder with a playful little punch. "I said come. What are you afraid of? I won't bite." She even gave him a blink of those big, bright eyes. Santino couldn't say no to her and gave in, though he had to swing by his place first to fetch his medical tools. They arranged for him to see Clarissa at her house. Then she sauntered off, hips swaying, bold and deliberate. Watching her go, Santino thought, given the chance, he would land a good, hard smack on that tempting butt. His hands curled into tight fists at the thought. When he got home, Clementine had already fallen asleep. He peered through the crack in the door. She wore a wine-red, deep V-neck silk nightgown. Her hair spilled loose across the pillow. Her fine nose crinkled faintly. Her lips pressed in a soft line. She looked devastating. He guessed she didn't wear a bra since two small points stood out through the silk. Staring at Clementine, Santino promised himself that someday he would touch her chest. He exhaled and shook himself. He needed to find out what was going on with Clarissa. In his room, he unwrapped the cloth bundle and took out the acupuncture kit. Ten dragons had been carved into the lid, each head turned toward a different direction, marking the ancient time system. His parents had told him long ago that the silver needles came from their ancestors, said to bring the dying back and knit flesh back over bone. They could save a life and serve as a means of defense. The acupuncture kit was the only relic his parents had left him. Gazing at the kit, he almost saw their smiles again. He wiped away the tear in the corner of his eye, picked up the needles, and set off for Clarissa's house. He pounded on her door. The door creaked open. Spotting him, she gave a mock scold. "What took you so long? I was getting anxious." Before he could answer, she pulled him into the bedroom. Once inside, he slipped his hand free and asked, "Clarissa, what's wrong? Tell me. I'll do everything I can." Blushing, she murmured, "Lately I feel… itchy down there. And every night, I have this urgent need to pee." She had barely finished when she shimmied out of her jeans. Santino opened his mouth to stop her, but she moved faster than his words. She stood in front of him in black lace panties, the curve of her firm hips plain to see. Heat throbbed through him. "Santino?" Clarissa asked, cheeks burning, voice light. "Uh… yeah? What is it?" His breath had gone uneven. Watching him gape, she almost laughed. "Think you can cure my problem?" "Oh, that." Santino let mischief edge his voice, his gaze snagging on the ripe, peachy curve of her backside.  "I probably can, but I'm afraid you'll need to take off a bit more so I can examine you properly. Is that okay?" "What? More? If I take off any more, there'll be nothing left." Clarissa sounded nervous, though a tremor of excitement threaded her words. "That's how treatment works. I need a close look to judge the condition," he said, trying to sound matter-of-fact. "All right then. I'll take it off." Hearing it would affect the diagnosis, she slipped off the black lace panties. The sight of her naked lower half sent a flare of heat storming through his skull. "Lie on the bed so that I can examine you. Yes... Good... Open your legs a little." Since Clarissa's husband had been off working far from home, she had been alone for a long time.  The press of Santino's male presence washed over her. A soft sound escaped her. Studying her flushed face, Santino said, "It seems like an external infection that's irritating your urethra. That's why you have trouble peeing at night." He paused, as if weighing his next words. Seeing him hesitate, Clarissa prompted, "If you have a question, just ask. No need to be shy." Taking in her frankness, he asked sheepishly, "Have you been with anyone recently?"