(See! I really am back. Here's chapter 52. Things get.. ummmmm... handsy... :) So if that's not something you want to read, then quit reading when she begins reading!)
Dr. Blake offered me the box of tissues. We had just finished our third session of PE therapy. While each individual session sucked, it did seem to be helping. The headaches were lessening, the nightmares were further apart. There were days when I really felt like my old self.
"Are you alright?" she asked gently. I nodded. I wiped at my face and took several deep breaths, trying to steady myself.
"How's school going?"
"It's okay. It was our first day back from break; the teachers are starting to really focus on end of year tests."
"Are you worried?"
"No. I've been paying attention. I'll be fine."
She smiled and tapped her pen on the test. "I wish I would have had your kind of academic confidence when I was in school. Even if it was a simple multiplication test, I would be up all night, nervous about doing poorly."
I shrugged. "School has always come really easy to me."
"How's your mom? I'm sure she's happy to have you back."
"Yeah. Although it was probably nice for her and Mark to have the house to themselves without being afraid I'm going to blow up again."
"And how is that? The anger?"
I let out a slow breath. "Better. I mean, the week that I was in California was great; I was so relaxed and carefree… But overall, I'm less upset."
"Good. That's the goal." She took a sip of her tea. "How's Will?"
"He's good! They just started baseball practices, so he's pretty busy."
"What position does he play?"
"First base."
"Do you know much about baseball?"
"Not really. I played tee ball when I was a kid, but compared to soccer there was too much standing around."
"Have there been any… physical developments? Anything changed sides between yes and no?"
I ignored my reddening cheeks as I thought about the night before. We had gone out to the movies to celebrate me being back in town and had ended up parking behind the doughnut shop for nearly an hour, sprawled across the front seat of his truck, kissing until the windows had fogged up. For the most part, all of the rules were still firmly in place, but in a moment of frenzy I had grabbed his hand and urged it up my shirt, onto my chest. He had been more than happy to oblige, and I had let my head fall back against the seat, rejoicing in how wonderful it felt. He'd slid his fingers just under the band and asked if it was still okay as he kissed along my jaw. I had nodded my consent and then his hands were cupping me beneath my bra. Any lingering fear or discomfort had been pushed away by how good it felt.
"We uh… we've done a bit more, I guess. Nothing big. Under the shirt stuff."
"I see. And how was that?"
"It was so nice." I couldn't help but press my fists against my reddening cheeks as I admitted it to her, and Dr. Blake laughed.
"There's no need to be embarrassed, JJ. It's 100% natural. Human beings are sexual creatures; we do these things because they feel nice."
"I know, it just…" I groaned. "It's just weird."
She gave me a thoughtful look. "Remind me… Will is your first boyfriend, yes?"
"Yeah."
"And there were no like, handsy games of seven minutes in heaven when you were in junior high?"
I laughed. "Uh no. I'm way too awkward for stuff like that."
She nodded. "Do you ever think about doing more with Will? I know you made the list, but do you ever just wonder what it would be like?"
"...Sometimes, I guess."
"What do you think about?"
I found myself at a loss for words. How was it possible that I had just spent an hour recounting some of the worst memories of my entire life, but that suddenly seemed preferable to telling her about fantasizing about kissing Will.
"Just… when we haven't hung out for a while, I miss kissing him. I wonder y'know… what it would be like to do other stuff."
"Stuff like oral sex?"
"Dr. Blake!" I groaned, and she laughed again. "Yeah, I guess."
"I think I already asked this, but to just double check, you don't masturbate, correct?"
I wanted to actually sink into the floor. "No," I told her in a mortified whisper.
"Never?"
"No!"
"Why not?"
"I just… God I don't know. I just… haven't. I wouldn't even know where to begin," I admitted.
"Does it seem dirty to you?"
"No, I'm not like… a puritan or something."
"Does sex still seem dirty to you?" I looked back at her in an uncomfortable silence. "Because it's not. It's something very natural, like I said. And you're seventeen, smack dab in the hormone storm of your late teens. It's okay to have yearnings and desires. You're a woman. And yes, you experienced an awful, awful trauma, but I'm betting no one explained that to your ovaries. They're just focused on making babies, and they do so by soaking your bloodstream with things like estrogen and progesterone. Which are going to make you, understandably, a little starry eyed."
I shifted in my seat a bit. "I guess I do have… some of those feelings. And I really like Will. But I don't know if I could… I think I would just end up freaking out."
"And that's understandable. Like I said, your ovaries are pro-procreation. Not that you want to have a baby at seventeen, that's just what your body is prepping for. Your amygdala, however, along with your hippocampus and your prefrontal cortex, are the parts of your brain that take the brunt force of trauma, and they want absolutely nothing to do with men."
"So my body is fighting itself?"
"Basically. You have two cave woman drives, the urge to reproduce and the urge to protect yourself from danger, and right now they're fighting it out."
"That makes it sound like I'm pretty screwed."
"Not so much," she told me with a smile. "The PE therapy is helping to manage the PTSD symptoms. Once they're under control, while it won't be just easy peasy, there won't be as much of a block when seeking out sexual partners."
"But didn't you say it can potentially take years to fight PTSD?"
She nodded, and I rolled my eyes. "Great. So maybe I'll be a little less of a freak by the time I go to college."
"You're not a freak, JJ."
"This is just so frustrating. All I've ever wanted to do was be normal." She stood up and went to one of her bookshelves. She bent down and skimmed one of the very bottom rows. She pulled one out and flipped it open, checking something inside before nodding. She brought it back to her desk.
"I have a little bit of an assignment for you."
"Alright?"
"I want you to think about giving masturbation a shot."
It felt like my eyes were going to pop out of my head. "You want me to what?"
"I'm not saying you have to do it, just mull it over. But whatever you do, do not watch porn. Don't get me wrong, it's great, it's empowering, whatever, but unfortunately the internet is a sick place, and you will almost certainly stumble into something very triggering. Take this instead."
She handed me the book. "George Orwell's 1984?" Now on top of feeling like I would die of embarrassment, I was confused. "We read this in sophomore English; this is the least sexy book I can think of."
She gave me a small smile. "Look inside."
I flipped it open to the cover page. "Love's On-Deck?"
"Most people don't feel comfortable toting around romance novels, so I have a few that I keep on hand with less conspicuous covers. I know what's in them, so I know that there won't be something accidentally triggering."
I pulled off the cover and took in the tan, muscled model on the front, his white baseball pants pulled low on his hips. "You're giving me soft-core baseball porn?"
She chuckled. "I guess I am, yes. Now there's no pressure. If it comes down to it and you just don't want to, that's fine. But if you're in a place where you're thinking about reclaiming a bit of your own territory, this might be a place to start."
I had begun reading a bit after dinner. The premise for the book turned out to be ridiculous. She was some hotshot doctor who had been forced to return to her hometown to care for her sick father. He was a broody minor league pitcher who was at risk of injury taking him away from the game he loved. They were sassy and sarcastic with each other, obviously covering up the fact that they wanted to jump each other's bones. But when they finally did for the first time, I couldn't help but snap the book shut. It was too much, I was embarrassed for them. I tucked it into my bedside drawer and rolled over to go to sleep. It definitely wasn't for me.
A few nights later, however, I found myself lying in bed, staring at the ceiling and unable to sleep. My mind wandered back to the couple. They had been in the team locker room, her taking a look at his shoulder. I switched on my lamp and pulled the book out, flipping to where I had been reading. I couldn't help but bite my lip as they met for their first kiss. I was keenly aware of every sound in our still house as in the book he picked her up and put her on the treatment table. Clothes went flying in every direction and hands and mouths were exploring skin. I was almost breathless as he finally pushed inside of her. My heart seemed to pound with theirs as they moved against each other.
By the time I finished the chapter, my cheeks were flushed, but not quite in embarrassment anymore. I returned the book to the drawer and switched off the lamp. I took a deep breath and tried to ground myself. Everything is fine. I can do this.
I honestly had no idea how to start. I felt so awkward, just lying in bed by myself. I closed my eyes and thought back to the scene, of the way her stomach had flipped as he leaned in. I ran my hand gently along my stomach, trying to relax. I tried to recall what the author had written about the way they had touched, what they had said. I gingerly let my hand drift down and cupped myself between my legs. I took a deep breath and moved it gently, unsure of what I was doing.
My brain seemed to be yelling at me that this was stupid, that this was embarrassing, but I shouted it down and kept going. It felt strange and unfamiliar, and surprisingly underwhelming. But then I tilted my hips down just right and got the funniest feeling in my stomach, like when you missed a step going downstairs. I repeated my same action. Eventually I worked up my courage and slid my hand inside of my underwear. I let it rest there for a moment before gently beginning to move around. Nothing really happened until I moved my fingers slightly higher. I hit a spot that gave me the feeling from before. I thought back to the book and what the baseball player had done to her. I could only guess that this was my clit, so I began to circle it in the same manner he had. I imagined myself, sitting on the treatment table, a hot baseball player standing between my legs, hand up my dress. But of course, after a few moments that faceless baseball player was Will. I hadn't seen him in his baseball pants yet, but my mind was more than happy to give me an imagined image of what that would look like.
I imagined him kissing along my jaw as he touched me, my hands holding onto his arms. My underwear had become damper, making it easier to move around. My body was tense, but in a very different way than when I started. It felt so nice, but at the same time, I needed something further. I thought back to the book, thought about what I would want Will to do if he was really here. I let my left hand join my right, but ventured lower. Unwanted memories started to crop up, but I pushed them away. A small spark of fear tried to ignite in my brain but I resolutely ignored it. Instead I let one of the fingers on my left hand nudge its way gently inside of me.
It was the strangest feeling, one I hadn't really been prepared for. But I let it happen, keeping the same rubbing motion with my right hand. I pressed further in and slowly started to move in and out. However, it wasn't so easy, as it turned into a 'pat your stomach, rub your head' situation. But whatever I was doing, it felt right, very right. I pictured Will in front of me, kissing me, imagined it was his fingers not my own. I kept going, my breath slowly starting to speed up with the pace of my fingers.
Suddenly, it was like a string snapped inside of me, and my entire body tightened up. I gave one quiet, shuddery gasp, but it seemed to echo in the darkness of my bedroom. Once the shaking had stopped, I pulled my hands from my underwear, wiping them both on my shorts as I laid back, body loose and relaxed. I glanced at my phone and realized that it had taken me over forty five minutes to get there.
My eyes were suddenly swimming with tears, but I just let them come. It was the second time I had cum in my entire life, and I let all of the feelings wash over me. On some level, I had been afraid I wouldn't be able to again, and that it would only happen with my father, leaving me convinced that I was broken and disgusting. But I had. And while I had definitely been thinking about Will, and imagining him touching me, it had been me. I had been in charge. It was my body, not my father's. It would never be his again.
