18. Astrid
ASTRID
It’s how he smells.
Dammit.
I’m programmed to react that way to his scent. I’ve done this to myself.
Well, with Thea’s help.
And his voice. Okay, I don’t usually have that when I’m giving myself orgasms, but I always respond to it, so when that was added in…
Oh my God.
What. Did. I. Just. Do?
Oh, just had an orgasm. With my husband.
This is horrible.
Okay, the scrambling off the couch, and running out of the house with no explanation, then not answering the phone any of the twelve times he’s called might be worse.
Or equally bad.
I’m not exactly sure how I look when I burst through the door of Thea Chabert’s physical therapy clinic, and I’m not going to ask her to describe the expression on my face.
I don’t want to know. Because she is sitting next to an exercise mat, where Larry Bozart is doing leg lifts, and her eyes immediately go wide, and she jumps to her feet.
“Keep going until you can’t do any more, Larry. I’ll be back,” she tells her patient.
“I’ve only got about ten more in me,” Larry huffs.
“Perfect,” Thea says. “Help yourself to water and the cookies Karen brought in earlier when you’re done.”
She is already striding toward her office at the back of the building.
Larry looks thrilled with this turn of events.
“Sorry to interrupt, Larry,” I tell him.
He shakes his head. “You’re saving me, honey.” He’s a bit out of breath. “Go.” He flaps his hand toward Thea’s office.
“Thanks.” I feel only slightly guilty following Thea down the short hallway.
She closes the door behind me and asks without preamble, “What’s wrong?”
I turn to face her and realize how grateful I am that I can simply say, “My couch. His mouth. Orgasm.”
It only takes her a moment to absorb that information.
Her mouth drops open, then curves into a huge grin. “Oh my God, Astrid, that’s amazing! I’m so happy for you!”
My eyes immediately fill with tears. This is what it’s like when you have a therapist who really gets you. And more, a therapist who has turned into a true friend.
“I know,” I tell her. “Thanks. It was…” I take a deep breath. “Great. Awesome.” I pause. “Except for the part where I was just coming awake and thought it was a dream, and then totally woke up and freaked out and ran out of the house and came here.”
That takes her a second to compute. She focuses on the less embarrassing part of what I told her. “Why did you think it was a dream?”
“I was on the couch napping. Well, I lay down with the cat, and I guess I fell asleep. The next thing I knew, I was having an intense dream about Declan. Which I suppose isn’t a surprise now that he’s here. I mean, I had one last night too.”
Thea nods her understanding. It’s part of my therapy to intentionally fantasize about him and to associate touching in that area with pleasure, not pain.
And she knows that there are residual erotic dreams that occur as well.
“I never fight the dreams,” I say, feeling my cheeks heat slightly. But being embarrassed with Thea is ridiculous.
Thea has seen people at their very lowest, hurting, frustrated, cussing either the situation that put them there, or sometimes even her directly.
She has treated a majority of the town, including sprained ankles, strained backs, surgeries, and even more serious conditions like strokes.
She is firm, passionate, very intelligent, and truly patient.
She also takes our successes personally.
She has truly turned into a friend, as well. I have told her everything, including the truth about Declan and my marriage arrangement.
There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.
Except maybe humping my husband’s face in my sleep.
I take a deep breath before I start spiraling again.
“Somehow, Declan ended up napping on the couch with me, I guess. After I fell asleep. So he was really there when I started feeling…him touching me and…” I clear my throat.
“Asking him to do more. With his mouth. But he didn’t know that I was still kind of asleep.
” I take another breath. “But I was absolutely encouraging him in everything. So it wasn’t weird. Until I made it weird.”
Thea doesn’t react except to motion toward one of the chairs in front of her desk.
I drop into it as she takes the other and turns it to face me. She studies me. “You don’t feel violated or anything?”
“No. Not at all. I was asking him to do everything he did. I mean, I’ve wanted him to do those things. That’s what I’ve been fantasizing about. On purpose. And why I’ve been working on all of this.”
She just nods and lets me keep talking.
“In fact, last night I was thinking I needed to call you and make an appointment to see how things are going. If maybe he and I can try sex. If I’ve made enough progress.”
She smiles. “That’s fantastic, Astrid.”
It is. I take a deep breath. “So on the couch, it was just like when I do my home sessions. I talk out loud, I use his name, I practice the whole telling him what I want him to do and imagine him talking back to me.” I pull in a deep breath.
“And honestly, I trust him. I know he wouldn’t have done anything he didn’t think I wanted. ”
“Okay, that’s great. That trust is huge. You know that.”
I nod. Declan is, obviously, the piece of my therapy that’s been missing.
When women have pelvic pain that impedes their ability to have sex, they usually involve their partner in the massage, stretching, and working toward pain-free penetration.
It takes a lot of transparent communication and trust, obviously.
I haven’t been doing that.
Obviously.
Thea reaches for my hand and gives me a squeeze. Her eyes are full of sympathy. “So tell me about running out after.”
“I just…freaked out. I mean that was not how I planned our first time.”
“Okay, but it worked. You had an orgasm with another human. The other human. I mean, oral is a great way to start. Was there any penetration? Fingers or anything?”
I shake my head quickly, my cheeks burning. “No. We didn’t get that far. Because I didn’t even need that to have an orgasm.”
She smiles. “Good for you.”
I laugh and cover my face. “Seriously. It was… fast and easy.”
She squeezes my knee. “Astrid, that’s good.” Her expression turns thoughtful. “Did you think about asking him for more?”
I groan into my hands. “No. I freaked out and came here.”
“Okay. So why is that?” she asks gently. “If sex with Declan is what you want and it was working, why the freak out?”
I know she’s asking so I can process the answer.
The work we’ve done on the back, hip, and pelvic pain definitely improved my quality of life, but we could have stopped prior to going deeper and longer if I had truly believed that I would be abstinent.
I clearly didn’t subconsciously, and when I finally admitted to her and myself that I would like to have sex, and specifically have sex with my husband, therapy had shifted and gotten more intense. But it’s been a huge feeling of accomplishment to have made the improvements that I have.
I drop my hands. “I haven’t told him anything about any of this yet.”
“Okay. Why not? We’re going to need him to get involved.”
I swallow hard as conflicting emotions hit me. On one hand, being that vulnerable with Declan is terrifying. On the other, it would mean getting naked with him and having him do that stuff with his mouth again. And with other things. And I’m betting he’s really good at it.
And I want that.
I nod. “Yeah, I know. It’s just…he just got here. And I’ve been kind of trying to get him to leave.”
She smiles. “Well, maybe you need to rethink that.”
I love Thea. She’s so non-judgmental, encouraging, and supportive.
“So, how can I help you right now?” she asks.
I sit forward. “Things have been going well with my home therapy. I am up to the biggest dilator. I can have an orgasm every time. The trigger points are all almost gone, and I can work them out in just a few minutes if they’re there.”
She looks incredibly pleased. “I’m so happy to hear that.”
I take a second and think about that. That is something else we worked on. Focusing on the good things and the progress rather than being frustrated with the things I haven’t accomplished yet.
“I feel like now that this happened between us, I’m kind of leading him on,” I admit, voicing one of my biggest fears. “That I will be able to do some of it—kissing, even orgasms without penetration—but then not be able to do the rest of it.”
She nods. “I get that.”
See, that’s nice. She just validates my fear. She doesn’t try to tell me that it doesn’t make sense.
But I kind of want her to say that’s ridiculous and of course it will work.
“Did you have pain after the orgasm? Any tightening up and spasms?”
I think about it, then shake my head. “No. I’m fine.”
“Even all upset and worked up?”
“Nope.”
“Great. That’s what I want you to focus on. You’ve had your first intimate encounter with Declan. It resulted in an orgasm. And no pain. Astrid, this is big.”
“Even if I was partially asleep when it happened?”
She nods. “Even then. But, yes, I really want you fully conscious next time. And he needs to be fully aware of what’s going on. And yes, it’s going to be difficult to tell him, but you deserve to have amazing sex with the man you are incredibly attracted to. And married to.”
My heart bangs against my ribs. I have to tell Declan O’Grady that I am defective…
I stop myself. I am not defective. This is something else we’ve been working on. Turns out that physical therapy is also partially mental therapy.
My body has been through a physical trauma and is reacting in a physical way. Of course, that affects me emotionally. All of that is normal. I am not defective. It is no more a defect than if someone sprained their ankle and has residual ankle pain when they run.
No one blames the person for that, and of course, it takes healing and therapy and sometimes adjustments to activities after an injury like that.
This is the same. My pelvis has muscles, nerves, and blood vessels, and all of those can be injured and contribute to pain.
The good thing is, they can also heal.