Page 93 of My Husband Problem

He shakes his head. “You’resavingme, 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’vewantedhim 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.”