“No.”
“Fatigue?”
“Yes.”
“Emotional distress?”
“Not exactly.”
I knew that expression.
“Don’t,” I warned.
Dr. Whitcomb looked between us.
“What?”
Noah folded his hands over his stomach.
“I have observed that certain physical activities improve sleep.”
“Physical exertion can do that.”
“And reduce stress.”
“Sometimes.”
“And increase feelings of safety.”
“Positive, consensual touch may.”
He turned to me with open triumph.
“Medical confirmation.”
“That was not a prescription,” Dr. Whitcomb said.
“It came close.”
She removed her glasses and pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose.
“Sex is not a substitute for medication, therapy, hydration, sleep, proper nutrition, or removing yourself from damaging situations.”
“Understood.”
“It can also be physically demanding.”
“We have discovered that.”
I stared at the floor.
Dr. Whitcomb fought a smile.
“Continue using the boundaries you established. No sexual activity when either of you is cognitively impaired, heavily medicated, or unable to communicate clearly.”
Noah nodded with exaggerated solemnity.
“And because I am beginning to understand how your mind works,” she added, “that recommendation does not translate into unlimited therapeutic sex.”
