True Match Ch. 01

"I will. I'm away from him. I'll have a job right away."

She did. A school she'd applied to called her that afternoon for an interview, while her father was returning the rented moving van. The interview was a week later. They hired her on the spot.

So, six months after the wake-up email from Fisher, they were out. They were safe. And April was ready to get on with the rest of her life, if she could just figure out how.

* * * *

Being a single parent was hard.

Through most of the marriage, April had been solely responsible for the girls' education, their medical care, and most of the day-to-day stuff. But even though her husband hadn't done much, he'd at least been there to take over when she needed a break. His jackassish behavior had only extended to the girls on rare occasions; most of the time, he'd done all right with them.

Now she was on her own with an eight-year-old who hid behind furniture and pulled pillows over her ears whenever she heard the word "divorce" and an eleven-year-old who made it abundantly clear that as far as she was concerned, her mother had destroyed their family. There were nights when the tears went in cycles, first Lucie, then Holly, then, after both girls were asleep, April.

But gradually things smoothed out. The girls were with their father every weekend; April would have preferred to have them some weekends, but this way their father argued less, and she had to admit it was often a relief to have those two days to regroup. She just wished she had something to do with the time besides sit at her computer emailing Fisher and trying to write.

During her marriage, April hadn't had friends. The friendship with Fisher was the first one her husband hadn't managed to sabotage or outright forbid. Although she and Fisher kept in touch, now that she lived over an hour from him and worked Monday through Friday, it was harder for them to get together. She felt disconnected from him and sensed that the friendship would end, though she tried to fight it.

One weekend a couple months after the move, Fisher made the trip to visit her. The plan was to smudge the house again. They'd done so just before she moved in, but all the arguments between the girls and between Holly and April had left her feeling that another smudging was in order. After a couple hours of working their way from the cellar to the attic with smoking bundles of sage, she and Fisher settled on the couch with a plate of vegan tacos for the kind of talk they hadn't had in months.

Except it was different this time.

"How are you doing with sex?" Fisher asked.

April almost choked on her taco. "Say what?"

"You were worried that you wouldn't be able to think of sex as anything positive. You'd made strides toward that, but I'm sure it was hard while you were still with one of the reasons you thought that way. So how are you doing now that you're away from him?"

"I don't know. It isn't like I've had options. I don't know anyone to date or anything, so how am I supposed to think of it? I'm busy taking care of the girls and getting used to working full-time again."

"You don't have to have sex with someone else to learn to enjoy it. In fact, given everything you've dealt with, it's probably best you don't. Someday someone will help you with the partner thing, but right now, take time by yourself."

"By myself?" April raised an eyebrow. She masturbated, of course; it was the only way she'd been able to orgasm during her marriage. Or at least the only way she'd been willing to. She hadn't liked sex with her husband, and so had trained herself not to orgasm or even feel arousal when he made his clumsy moves on her. And she'd refused to let him touch her at all for the last six months of the marriage, after she'd started feeling sick to her stomach every time he even hugged her.

But as far as she was concerned, masturbation had little to do with sex; it was just a way to relieve frustration.

"Yes, by yourself," Fisher said. "Do you even know what you like and what you don't like sexually?"

"Not really. I only had sex with two people before my ex, and each of them was only once." One had been her best male friend; the other had been a guy he'd fixed her up with.

"So if you don't know what you like, how can you expect a partner to know? Spend some time with your body. Explore yourself, not just the sexual parts, because every inch of you can be an erogenous zone if touched right. See what feels good. Buy a vibrator and experiment with that."

"Yeah, because I'm really going to walk into a store and buy a vibrator." What the hell was his problem? He knew her better than that. Why were they even having this conversation?

"You can order one online. That's your assignment, in fact. Look online and find a vibrator. You don't have to order it yet, but I want you to find one."

Throughout their friendship, Fisher had given her little "assignments", tasks he'd come up with to help her deal with things from her past and present, or to help improve her physical or emotional health. He practiced a few forms of energy healing, including one he'd developed himself, and had taught April the techniques as well as performing several sessions on her; the assignments usually arose out of those.

This wasn't the first time he'd given her an assignment dealing with her sexuality, but it was the first one that had been so blatant.

"What if I don't want a vibrator?"

"Then don't get one. You never have to do anything I suggest, you know that. But you have a major block about this and I think it would benefit you to at least see what's available. Toys aren't a substitute for sex with others; they're an aid. Sex can be as meaningful for one as for two or ten."

Recognizing the words Oliver had said to her in one of their channeling sessions, April had to smile. But only briefly; she was too angry. "Sex is meaningless anyway, and what is the point of only having it with myself?"

"So you can learn what you like and don't like and overcome some of your resistance to it, so you'll be ready when you find a partner. You're being impatient, and I can understand that after all the time you spent trying to keep this part of you shut away, but it isn't something you can rush."

"I'll think about it."

"All right." Fisher nabbed the last taco and bit off a third of it. The conversation apparently was over.

* * * *

Except with Fisher, nothing was ever over. His emails over the next few weeks were full of questions like, "Have you tried submerging yourself in a bath and just letting your body feel the water?" and "What's the longest you've ever masturbated? Try an hour." To the first, April replied, "I don't take baths. I don't like baths." To the second, she didn't bother replying. What the hell was she supposed to do with herself for an hour?

If she hadn't known Fisher as well as she did, she would have been suspicious of his sudden interest in her solo sex life. As it was, she had to wonder if he planned in the future to be the partner he'd mentioned. Although she'd never told anyone, shortly before she'd decided to leave her husband she and Fisher had admitted having feelings for each other. He had qualified it, though, by saying that "love" had too many forms for him to be certain of what he felt for her. Now that she was out of her marriage, maybe a relationship with Fisher could develop.

But if that was his intent, he gave no sign of it in the relentless emails. Out of irritation, with the excuse that she was just trying to shut him up, April started doing the things he suggested. It was fortunate that the girls were gone on weekends; she was barely comfortable masturbating in her bedroom to a quick orgasm with them in the house, even with the bedroom door closed and music playing to drown out any sounds she might make, and some of Fisher's ideas required more than that.

One Saturday while the girls were gone, April decided to get it over with. She emailed Fisher and told him she wouldn't be on her computer much that day. "I'm doing homework."

It was too early in the morning for him to be awake to reply, which she was grateful for. She didn't want to see what he would say; she knew he'd know exactly what she meant.

She showered and didn't bother dressing. [i]Why did you shower?[/i] one of her guides asked her. [i]If you're following the suggestions, you'll take a bath later. Seems like a bit of overkill.[/i]

"I never said I was going to take a bath." The good thing about being alone was that she could talk out loud to her guides and no one would think she was crazy. "I don't like baths."

[i]You don't like baths because of what happened when you were a child. You're not a child anymore. People enjoy baths; they're relaxing. Are you going to let thirty-year-old fears keep you from enjoying something?[/i]

"Why the hell did you have to bring that up?" She didn't bother trying not to cry. When she'd been very young, before she started school, she'd been forced to take baths. Invariably her mother got angry with her for either not holding still while she washed her, which April hated anyway because her mother was far from gentle, or for making a mess while playing in the tub. Sometimes her father had been the one to bathe her, and for April that had been worse; even at three or four, she'd been ashamed to be naked in front of him, especially since he had seemed equally uncomfortable. When she turned five, he'd shown her how to start the shower; from then on, she'd cleaned herself.

She'd given her own children baths only until they could stand up unsupported; after that, both girls had learned to take showers, though both enjoyed baths when they had time.

[i]Let it out. Baths aren't the enemy. Your parents made you uncomfortable, but they were in the wrong. You know this. You're not that child any longer; you're an adult and if you want to take a bath, no one can stop you or make you feel ashamed. Take control.[/i]

"Later." April grabbed a few sheets of toilet paper and blew her nose. "Not now. I can't do it right now."

There was no answer, but April didn't need one. She knew what the answer would have been. She couldn't put things off forever if she wanted to reclaim the part of her that she'd locked away when she was a child.

So even though she'd just finished her shower, she ran a bath. In the medicine cabinet, she found a packet of lavender bath salts that someone had given Holly for Christmas; lavender had healing qualities, if she remembered right, so she dumped the packet's contents into the water. When the tub was full enough, she stepped into it. [i]Submerge yourself. Let the water envelop you completely. Let yourself feel it over all of your skin.[/i]

"Not my face." Anything on or too close to her face caused panic attacks.

Her guide's tone was amused. [i]No, your face may stay exposed.[/i]

"Yeah. Funny."

She sank down so the water covered her to her neck. Despite her resistance, the warm water soothed her. It was relaxing lying here, surrounded by the scent of lavender, knowing that no one was around to disturb or interrupt her.

The touch of the water on her skin was like a caress, sensual. Almost sexual as she parted her legs and allowed the water to touch between them. Arousing.

Closing her eyes, she slipped a hand between her legs and fingered the hard nub there. Her other hand came up to cup one breast, then the other. Gently she rubbed her nipples with fingertips, which sent shudders through her.

She increased the pressure on her clitoris. Her other hand left her breasts and ran lightly down her belly, past her mound to her thighs, which it also explored. After years of training herself not to feel physical sensations, her nerve endings now hungered for touch. Although it was only her own hands, her body responded.

The pleasure grew; between her legs, a pulsing began. She slipped two fingers inside herself and moaned at having something there for the first time in over eight months. Normally when she masturbated, she focused only on her clit; that brought her the quickest, strongest orgasms. She almost never penetrated herself, but now she moved the fingers around, searching for the G-spot she'd read about. She was unsure whether she found it, but when she touched a spot at the front of her pussy, she came almost instantly.

God, had she really done that? Had she really gotten herself off in the tub? She'd never masturbated anywhere but in bed, or occasionally on the couch. Not only had she done it in the tub, but she'd enjoyed it, enjoyed the feeling of exploring her entire body instead of only her genitals.

[i]See? Baths aren't all that bad.[/i]

* * * *

Despite her experience in the tub, though, April still viewed masturbation as a pale substitute for sex. Although Fisher kept talking about sex and giving April assignments to do relating to it, he gave no indication at all of any interest in helping her learn more. She would have to find another partner if she wanted to move beyond "self-infliction", as she half-jokingly called it. The problem was, she had no way to meet anyone in real life. So she decided to try online.

After doing some searches for friendship and dating sites, April joined an "adult friend" website. At first, she was naïve enough to think that the site was just for friendship; she figured out quickly that she was wrong. But she chose to stay with it. After all, if she hoped to find a sex partner, she might as well belong to a sex site. The idea of sex outside a relationship was strange to her, but after a few discussions with Fisher she'd realized there was nothing wrong with having sex with a friend, and thought that might be easier for her at first given her currently negative view of romantic relationships.

Some of the conversations in the regional chat room on the "friend" site shocked her; she spent a good deal of time with a red face and occasionally in tears. The things people said didn't upset her because they were explicit; they upset her because these people seemed to have a healthy view of their own sexuality, and she hated that she'd missed out on it in her own life. She began spending more and more time in chat, learning from what she read; she often commented that she was taking notes. Everyone assumed she was joking.

After a week or so, a guy asked for her instant messenger screen name. They chatted privately for several days, but April turned down all his invitations to meet. Something about him felt off, though she couldn't put her finger on it, and although it was flattering to have a man interested in sex with her she didn't want to take the first offer she got just for the sake of having sex. Besides, he kept asking her to meet him on evenings when the girls were at home, and April refused to put anyone ahead of her children. They were too young to stay home alone, and it felt wrong to leave them to have sex with someone who was still a stranger to her.

Finally giving in to her curiosity about toys, she ordered an inexpensive vibrator from an online store. The day it arrived, which was fortunately a Saturday, she stared at it for an hour before she even worked up the nerve to turn it on. After another half hour of flipping it on and off, she got fed up with herself. "For crying out loud, it's a piece of plastic. It isn't going to bite me. Let's get this over with."

Part of the problem was that it was only a piece of plastic; she wanted to feel the real thing inside her, not a battery-operated substitute. But she had told Fisher she would keep an open mind, so after another few minutes of watching the thing vibrate, she went to her bedroom and undressed.

Rather than just plunging the thing inside her, she first ran it lightly over her body, taking a couple extra seconds at each nipple. It was a unique sensation, different from but equally as pleasurable as touching herself with her hand.

The touch of the object built her arousal, and finally she slipped it between her legs. When it brushed against her clit, she jumped. This was much more intense than fingering herself.

If she kept the vibrator there, she knew she would come quickly. For a change, she didn't want that. Instead, she slowly slid it inside herself. At first, her pussy stretched uncomfortably to accept it, since it had had nothing larger than her fingers in it for so long. The discomfort soon gave way to pleasure, though; she'd forgotten how nice it felt to have something filling her.

She moved it in and out, slowly thrusting until her orgasm was just over the brink. Then she brought it back to her clit. The result was the strongest orgasm she'd ever had, so strong she was sure she blacked out for a second. And she screamed.

That startled her back to reality. The entire time she was married, she'd never made a sound during sex. Noise had been one of the things that annoyed her husband; he was always afraid the kids or someone else would overhear, as though he was ashamed of sleeping with his wife. During masturbation she sometimes gasped or breathed heavily, hence playing music when the girls were home, but that was the most sound she made. She'd trained herself to be silent, just as she'd trained herself not to feel arousal or orgasm.

It was nice not to have to live that way anymore.

* * * *

Eventually April's IM friend gave up, since she kept refusing to meet him. However, a week or so after he told her he was done, another guy from the chat room asked if she wanted to get together for coffee. She agreed; they met on a Saturday, and a week later she invited him to her house. For the first time in sixteen years, she had sex with someone other than her ex-husband. It was incredible.

She saw him a couple more times, then his work schedule started interfering, or so he claimed. A couple other guys from chat showed interest; April met them as well.

After hating it for so long, she discovered an enjoyment of sex. And, as she'd done since she met him, she emailed Fisher about the things she learned. Sometimes she thought she might be giving him too many details, but he didn't complain.

She realized that she wasn't focusing as much as she should have been on her children, but they seemed all right. Both were fitting in at their new schools. Both were beginning to come to terms with the separation, though Holly still fought with her mother over foolish things. April planned to get the three of them into counseling; she just had to find the time to make the calls. Fisher asked her a few times if she'd taken care of it, but she always had an excuse for not doing it.

That brought the end of her and Fisher's friendship. He called her one night and said, "Do you know what you're doing to Holly and Lucie?"

"I'm not doing anything to them. I'm trying to have a life."

"Don't they deserve a life too? And a mother who pays attention to them?"

"I take care of my kids."

"You spend all your time talking to and about men. You're never happy. I thought once you got away from your husband you'd be happy and have a good life, but that doesn't seem to be happening."

"I only go on dates when the girls are with their father, and I'm trying to be happy. That's why I'm dating."

"No one else can make you happy. You're the only one who can do that for yourself." He paused. "Our paths are going different directions now. I'm sorry, April, but I don't think we can be friends anymore."

"What?" How could he say that?

"I don't like what I'm seeing, and you obviously aren't interested in the same things I am anymore. That doesn't mean we're enemies; I hope that if you run into me at the bookstore or something you'll still give me a hug. But we can't be what we are now."

That hurt, which made April furious. "Thanks a lot."

"There's no need to be angry."

"Oh, yes, there is! You're a liar."