13. Chapter Thirteen
chapter thirteen
. . .
Olivia
“Carter, just a reminder that I’ll be late tomorrow. I have that appointment with Dr.—”
“I’m aware.”
“Of course. I’ll see you at about ten.” I flashed him a grateful smile before turning to leave his office, Pete in tow. As I reached for the doorknob, his deep voice stopped me in my tracks.
“Olivia.”
I pivoted to face him, my heart stuttering at the commanding tone. Carter leaned back in his leather chair, eyes locking onto mine with an inscrutable intensity. A few strands of dark hair fell over his furrowed brow as he studied me. My stomach flipped.
“What will you do with Pete in the morning?”
“Oh, he'll probably just stay home for the day.”
Carter's chiseled jaw tightened. “Drop him here before your appointment.”
I blinked, stunned. “Really? That would be great. He'd love that. ”
Carter gave a curt nod and his expression softened fractionally. “Have a good night, Olivia.”
“You too, Carter.”
Out in the hallway, I released a long breath. Carter Cassidy certainly knew how to keep a girl on her toes.
“Olivia?”
”That’s me!” I jumped out of my seat and hurried toward the nurse waiting at the open door.
“My name is Brenda. How are you today?”
“Oh, me? I’m great. Fantastic. Excited. Are people normally excited to be at the gynecologist?”
Brenda chortled as she led me through a maze of corridors. “Not most people. And from the looks of your chart, I wouldn’t expect you to be overly excited to be here either.”
“I just want to feel better, Brenda. I’m hoping Dr. March can help.”
“If she can’t, she’ll find someone who can. She’s the best.”
“I hope so.”
“And here we are, room six. Have a seat. I’ll take a few vitals before the doctor comes in.”
Brenda moved through her intake routine with well-practiced ease before diving into some preliminary questions.
“How long has the pain been going on?”
“Since my first miscarriage. About a year and a half ago.”
“And it says here you lost two pregnancies since? ”
“Yes.”
“I’m so sorry, Olivia.” Brenda leaned forward and patted my knee as tears swam in my eyes. “Okay, I have what I need. Undress from the waist down. There’s a sheet on the table for you. Dr. March will be in momentarily.”
“Thank you, Brenda.”
I followed her instructions, removing my skirt and panties and folding them neatly before placing them on the chair. Then I sat on the exam table and covered myself with the sheet. Legs crossed, I bounced my foot anxiously. When I finally heard a knock on the door, I hitched on my bravest smile to greet Dr. March as she entered the exam room.
“Hi, Olivia. It’s great to meet you. Carter said such wonderful things about you.”
She reached out to shake my hand. I nearly forgot to reciprocate, too busy being preoccupied by the idea of Carter Cassidy saying nice things about anyone, let alone me.
“It’s so nice to meet you, too, Dr. March. I’m grateful you were able to get me in on such short notice.”
“Please, call me Mel. And anything for sweet Carter.”
I snorted, unable to help myself, and she grinned. “Not the word you’d use to describe him, I take it?”
“Not exactly. Prickly, maybe. Or perpetually grumpy.”
Dr. March— Mel —laughed as she took her seat on a rolling stool opposite me. “He’s had a rough go, but he’s as sweet as they come once you break through that crunchy exterior.”
I tossed her words around in my head, finding them wholly true. From the way he looked out for me and cared so deeply about his work, there was obviously more to the man than a few grunts and terse greetings.
“Lie back, please,” Mel said as she proceeded with her exam. After a few “does this hurts” and “how about nows,” she helped me sit up.
“Okay, Olivia. I believe what you’re experiencing is pelvic floor tension myalgia.”
“Which is…?”
“PFTM is a chronic condition that usually affects women during their childbearing years. It causes involuntary tightening of the pelvic floor muscles that leads to severe pain. You mentioned that intercourse is painful, yes?”
“It can be.”
“Are you able to achieve orgasm without penetrative sex?”
“I, um, I don’t know.”
“Well, this might seem an odd order from the doctor, but I’d like you to see if an orgasm can give you some temporary relief—whether alone or with a partner.”
I shot her a skeptical look.
“Orgasms release endorphins, and endorphins are essentially the body's natural painkillers.”
“So, I need to go have orgasms?”
Mel smiled. “As long as it doesn’t cause you more pain. For long-term relief, we should start you on physical therapy. If needed, I can also prescribe you a muscle relaxant, but I want to avoid that if possible.”
“Me too. Okay, so orgasms and physical therapy.”
“Yep.”
“Can it really be that easy? ”
“I’m not sure I’d call it ‘easy.’ Physical therapy can take time to work its magic, which is why I want you to have that outlet for temporary relief. They’ll get you all scheduled at checkout for your first therapy appointment, but I’d like to see you back in two weeks. You can tell me all about how your home-therapy is going.”
Mel shot me a wink, and I blushed. Without Ethan, orgasms were non-existent. “Okay, I’ll give it a try.”
We said our goodbyes before I dressed and exited the room. I was in a hurry to get to Carter's. Just when I had thought things were turning a corner, he’d turned into an even bigger asshole this week than he had been when we first met.
Except when it came to Pete. Those two were thick as thieves. Suddenly, I was feeling like chopped liver to my own dog.
Then again, dogs probably love chopped liver. Nevermind.
I wasn’t sure what set him off, but I didn't want to give Carter any additional reason to loathe my existence. Still, there was time for a text as I made my way to the parking garage.
OLIVIA
Help!
MEGHAN
What's up?
OLIVIA
The doctor prescribed me orgasms.
Oh God, I can't believe I just sent that. But who else was there to talk to about this? Meghan had always been so open about everything.
MEGHAN
I'm sorry, what?
OLIVIA
Yep. They're supposed to help temporarily alleviate my pain.
She clearly doesn't know that my husband walked out on me, and I haven't heard from him in weeks.
A rush of sadness hit me as I thought about Ethan. How did we end up here?
MEGHAN
Please, you don't need a man for orgasms.
Though if you WANT a man, might I suggest your hunky boss?
My cheeks flushed hot at the mere suggestion. Carter? No way. He'd never—I couldn't... could I?
OLIVIA
OMG! NO!
MEGHAN
Welp, no time like the present to get started on that self-care!
Where are you now?
OLIVIA
Parking garage. Heading to Carter's.
My stomach turned over at the thought of seeing him, especially given the current conversation.
MEGHAN
Ooooh, perfect! Jump his bones when you get there!
I nearly choked on air. The image of me 'jumping Carter's bones' rose in my mind, and I was more than a little surprised at how my body reacted.
OLIVIA
You're seriously the worst.
MEGHAN
Girl, it's time to take matters into your own hands. Literally.
I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't help smiling.
MEGHAN
Maybe go buy yourself a new toy.
A sex toy? The idea both terrified and intrigued me.
OLIVIA
A toy? I wouldn't even know where to look!
MEGHAN
I'll text you the address of a great shop. The staff are super friendly and discreet. No judgment, I promise.
I took a deep breath, gathering my courage. I can do this.
OLIVIA
Okay. I'll give it a try. Thanks, Meg.
MEGHAN
You've got this, Liv! And remember, this is for you. No pressure, just exploration and hopefully some relief.
I pocketed my phone. This wasn't about finding a new man or replacing Ethan. It was about taking care of myself, medically and emotionally.
As I drove toward Carter's, I felt a spark of excitement beneath my apprehension. This might be the first step towards reclaiming not just my health, but a part of myself I'd forgotten.
I parked my car on Carter’s street, and as I climbed out, a sharp pain shot through my pelvis. I doubled over but quickly righted myself, eager to get inside and out of view of nosey neighbors.
The house was empty; Carter had texted earlier to tell me he was taking Pete to a lunch meeting. Perfect.
After a quick glance around to make sure he wasn’t lurking in some corner, I snuck off to the bathroom. The door clicked shut behind me and I leaned against it for a moment to steady myself. This was it. Time to try Dr. March's ‘self-care’ suggestion. This is for my health. Nothing to be embarrassed about.
I hiked up my skirt and planted one foot on the toilet seat, bracing myself against the wall. My fingers trembled as I slipped them beneath the waistband of my panties. It had been so long since I'd touched myself like this. Since before the miscarriages, before Ethan's betrayal.
I screwed my eyes shut, pushing those thoughts away and tried to conjure up an image to fuel my fantasy. My fingers moved in slow circles, teasing and exploring.
In my mind's eye, a man's hands replaced my own. Large, capable hands with long fingers and a gentle touch. He knew exactly how to please me, how to coax my body to respond.
My breathing grew ragged as pleasure built within me. I imagined strong arms holding me close. A deep voice whispering encouragement in my ear. The scent of sandalwood and coffee.
Wait. Sandalwood and coffee?
My eyes flew open. The fantasy man in my head wasn't some nameless Adonis. It was Carter. My boss. The man whose bathroom I was currently getting myself off in.
Oh God.
My body didn’t care that this was wildly inappropriate. If anything, knowing it was Carter in my fantasy only intensified things. I was too far gone to stop now.
I squeezed my eyes shut again and imagined his steely gray eyes, the way his forearms looked when he rolled up his sleeves. The sound of his deep, rumbling laugh. How he looked at me sometimes when he thought I wasn't paying attention.
My fingers moved faster. In my mind, Carter's hands roamed my body, his lips trailing kisses along my neck. I imagined running my fingers through his hair, pressing myself against his broad chest.
The tension inside me built to a crescendo. I came undone with a strangled cry. Waves of pleasure washed over me as I sagged against the wall, trembling.
As the afterglow faded, reality came crashing back. I'd just masturbated in my boss's bathroom while fantasizing about him. This was beyond unprofessional. It was mortifying.
I straightened up on shaky legs, rearranging my skirt and trying to compose myself. My reflection in the mirror looked flushed and guilty. How am I supposed to face Carter now?
Every time I looked at him, I'd remember this moment. I'd picture his hands on me, his lips on my skin. I'd wondered what he'd think if he knew what I'd done, what I'd imagined.
This complicated everything. My growing feelings for Carter were no longer something I could ignore. They were real, visceral and, apparently, strong enough to fuel some very vivid fantasies.