Sea Goblins

'Getting some pie before it's all gone,' he said.

Michael's face drained of blood.

'You want to move?' Dad asked Michael.

'You want me to go home?' Michael asked.

'No, I want you to move out of the way of the fridge and freezer so I can get some apple pie and ice cream,' Dad clarified.

'Oh, sorry mate,' Michael said. He moved as far away from my father as humanly possible.

I met my boyfriend's gaze and mouthed 'it's okay'. Sure, I'd rather my father hadn't overheard what Michael had said, but in the scheme of things it was very innocent. It wasn't overtly sexual. He hadn't said 'I want to face fuck you until you vomit' like one of my ex's had once told me. And we were both well and truly past the age of consent.

'Bit too wet for the boat, is it?' Dad asked Michael.

'Yeah, mate. It's not safe, and I don't think Katie'd forgive me if I tried to take her out in rough weather. She got a bit sick when we were heading out and in last weekend.'

'I vomited both times,' I told Dad.

'You really know how to impress a man, Katie,' Dad replied with a grin. He cut himself a wedge of pie and opened the tub of ice-cream.

'You were impressed when you ate the fish I caught,' I argued.

'The one that you wouldn't eat because it used to have eyes and it looked at you when you got it out of the water?' Dad chuckled.

'Yes. That fish.' I went redder. 'I need to pee. Can one of you cut me a small bit of pie please? With an equal amount of ice-cream to pie? The ratio needs to be 50-50.'

'Needs to be perfect, does it?' Dad asked.

'It does, sometimes,' Michael agreed. 'Rituals keep you safe from the horror of the unknown.'

My father stared at him as if he were crazy. He picked up his bowl. 'You can cut her pie, mate,' he said to Michael. 'You seem to understand her quirks.'

'I actually just like the taste when there's the same amount of each,' I protested, heading off to the bathroom.

When I returned, Dad was in the living room again and Michael had cut me a piece of pie and was scooping ice-cream onto a set of scales.

'I'm making sure it's perfect,' he said.

I swatted his bum and kissed his bicep. Michael stopped what he was doing and smiled at me.

'I love you,' he said.

'I love you, too.'

'Do you?' he asked.

I nodded. 'Absolutely. I think it's your dedication to ensuring perfect dessert ratios which did it for me.'

~~~~~~~~~~~

We went out on the boat again the following weekend, and the weekend after that. Michael started dropping around mid week and spending the night at my house. We'd make love quietly, stifling each other's cries, and travel into work together the following morning. He only worked a few minutes away from me and he'd drop me off at the door and continue on to his office.

My vagina got a good work out, but I found that missionary position was never going to work for me. It hurt no matter how much coconut oil we used. Michael said he didn't care. He preferred doggy style or me on top. Besides, he said, the kink in his penis was probably partly to blame. We agreed that an inability to have missionary sex was an inconsequential problem in the scheme of things, and instead focussed on all the other wonderful ways we could get each other off.

I loved him more with each day. I learned his secrets, his flaws and his assets. He was incredibly kind and thoughtful. He always asked me how I was, and he always seemed to care about the answer.

He wasn't perfect. Every person has their flaws, and he certainly had his. He was convinced Dad hated him, and he wasn't exactly up to scratch when it came to personal hygiene. There were times when I'd make a suggestion about having a shower together because he smelt like sweat, or casually ask him if he'd brushed his teeth. I was secretly glad he was circumcised because if you have a foreskin you really need to know how to take care of yourself or it gets nasty quickly.

All in all, I considered his faults bearable. No doubt that over time he'd realise my father didn't actually hate him, and he was never offended when I told him to shower, he just went and got clean as if it was something he hadn't thought of. Lots of men have crap personal hygiene. At least he didn't claim that he'd showered when he hadn't.

Christmas was approaching. The weather was hot and I started dreaming of running away to a tropical island paradise. Fiji, maybe.

'Do you want to come to Fiji with me?' I asked Michael one hot Wednesday evening. We were sitting out the back of my parent's house eating icy poles that left our tongues stained red. 'We could use our travel voucher to go away for a week.'

'It's your voucher, not mine. Go first class and enjoy a week by yourself at a resort.'

'I'd rather go with you.'

'I can't go overseas. I can't get travel insurance.'

'Really? Why not?'

'I have some health issues.'

I didn't press for answers. I'd wondered at times if he had anxiety or some other minor mental health issue, and his answer all but confirmed it.

'While we're talking about health, I did get that STD check done that you wanted me to do,' he added. He reached into his back pocket and retrieved a folded up piece of paper. 'Here you go. All good.'

'Thanks.' I took the paper but didn't look at it. 'How about we go up North, to the Great Barrier Reef?'

'There'll be children everywhere,' he said. 'It'll be school holidays.'

'You don't want to go?'

'No, no, I want to go. I just think you should use the voucher to do something special for you.'

I leant over and kissed him. 'Anything with you is special.'

He smiled at me with cochineal stained teeth. 'I feel the same way about you.'

'I'll find somewhere nice for us to go.'

We went inside to my air-conditioned bedroom. Michael and I sat on the bed and after an hour or so of stuffing around, I found a holiday package to Daydream Island and emailed Flight Centre asking for it to be booked.

In between Michael and I agreeing on a holiday and my finishing my email, he'd drifted off to sleep. He was a huge sleeper, and I was by now used to him spending ten or eleven hours in bed each night, and drifting off to sleep for afternoon naps on the weekend. He always apologised, but when I suggested he might have a sleep disorder, he brushed off the suggestion and told me his doctor had said he was someone who needed a higher amount of sleep than normal.

I touched the sweaty bits of hair around his hairline, and kissed his damp forehead, before getting out of bed and exiting the bedroom. I closed the door behind me, then went to the kitchen to get a drink of water.

Mum and Dad had been out doing the grocery shopping and they arrived home as I finished my water. I helped them carry everything inside.

'I thought your little friend was coming over tonight,' Dad remarked.

'He is. He's just having a nap.' I unpacked the milk. 'We're going away together at Christmas. We're going to use the holiday voucher we won.'

'That'll be nice,' Mum said.

My father just grunted.

'What?' I asked Dad. 'Is there a problem?'

'No, I just can't figure out why he'd always hanging around here. Why don't you two ever go to his house?'

'His boat is his home,' I responded, using the excuse Michael used when I asked him the same question. 'Do you have a problem with him being here?'

'I have a problem with you both being here,' my father pointed out. 'You're nearly twenty-five. It's time to fly the nest. I'd like to be able to watch television in my own house without having to kick two canoodling twenty-somethings off the couch.'

I remembered the incident he was referring to. I knew he was making a good point. My siblings had moved out years ago.

'What your father is trying to say is that if you two are serious enough to go on a holiday together, and serious enough to spend several nights a week together, it might be time for him to take you to meet his parents,' Mum said. 'And if that goes well, it might be time to consider renting an apartment with him. You earn more than either Dad or I, and he earns more than what you, your Dad and I earn put together. You can afford to move out.'

'How do you know what he earns?' I asked suspiciously.

'I asked him,' Dad said matter-of-factly.

'You asked him?' I exclaimed. 'No wonder he feels like you hate him. Why would you ask him something like that?'

'I was curious,' Dad shrugged.

'Dad! Don't. Seriously, don't ask those questions.'

'I'm only asking questions because you're not,' he argued. 'I'm not denying he likes you, but I'd be lying if I didn't say I have a gut feeling that something is up. He's hiding something, Katie.'

'What do you think he's hiding?' I asked.

My father has never been one to hold back.

'I reckon that kid's family is a lot wealthier than he's letting on,' Dad said. 'And I think he's scared of bringing you home.'

I didn't respond.

'Are you a Facebook friend with him?' Dad prodded.

I shook my head. No. I'd asked Michael about that and he'd said 'no, I have some friends who are arseholes and I don't want you judging me'.

My father correctly interpreted my silence, but he didn't say a word. He and Mum just exchanged pointed glances, and I realised that my relationship with Michael had been the subject of quite a few of their discussions.

'I might go and have a shower,' I said.

As I stood under the hot water I thought about what my parents had said. Was Michael ashamed? Worried? Scared?

If he was ashamed then I'd have to leave him, but if he was genuinely worried or scared, that was another matter, wasn't it? He was employed by his parents. They had the ability to take away his source of income if they didn't like what he was doing in his personal life.

I got out of the water and stared at myself in the mirror. I'd had surgery on my jaw, on my vocal cords, on my nose, I had breast implants and I had traded my penis for a vagina. What had made those men in the pub 'pick' me? What did I need to fix if I wanted to convince Michael's parents that I was born this way?

Oh shit, I thought. Those men in the pub were Michael's family's business associates. It didn't matter if I 'passed' to Michael's parents, those men would probably let them in on the secret once our relationship went public. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Michael didn't wake up for dinner. He didn't wake until the next morning. I'd spent most of the night awake and running over all the different scenarios, and I was by then too exhausted to ask him difficult questions. Instead, we both showered and dressed, and he drove me to work so I wouldn't need to catch the train.

'Do you want to go out on the boat this weekend?' he asked me.

'I'd love to,' I said.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'I have a present for you,' Michael said as I got in his car on Saturday morning. It was seven am and we were outside my house. He handed over a glossy white box. 'And you have no excuse not to take it, because it didn't cost me a thing.'

The carton was the type used to transport cakes and sweets, and I could smell the sugar just holding it. There was a tag attached to the box which read 'Michael's Katie'.

'Michael's Katie?' I asked.

'My Mum was making Christmas sweets for the end of school year part,' he said. 'I asked her to put some aside for you. She has a friend called 'Kate', who she also made some sweets for, so I guess she just wrote 'Michael's Katie' so nobody got confused.'

'Your Mum knows that you have a girlfriend?' I asked.

He nodded. 'I can't just disappear all the time overnight without them getting suspicious.'

'Do they know I'm trans?'

'Not yet. I didn't think they needed to know. It's not really relevant, is it?'

I opened the box and was greeted with a cornucopia of festive sweets, as well as a large amount of coconut ice. 'Yum.'

'I asked her to make you coconut ice.'

I leant over and kissed him, and ruffled his hair. 'I'm going to put this inside so I don't forget it on the boat,' I said. 'Thank-you. It's a really sweet gift.'

I got out of the car and carried my box of goodies inside. My father was buttering toast in the kitchen and he asked what I was doing back so soon.

'She knows about me,' I said, holding up the box. 'Michael's mother. She made me Christmas sweets.'

My father nodded. 'Good to hear.'

'He hasn't taken me home because he hasn't told her I'm trans.'

'Is planning on telling her?'

'It sounded like he was.'

He took a bite of toast. 'You have no idea how things can be from my and your mother's perspective,' he said. 'One day you have a son, the next you have a daughter. The next thing you know, she's bringing home men. You might not be a man, Katie, but I am, and I don't trust many of them. Not when it comes to you.'

It was as close as he was going to come to an apology.

'Michael's different,' I said.

'I hope so,' he agreed.

I went outside to the car and climbed in. Michael was in the middle of texting someone, but he glanced up at me and smiled as I strapped myself in.

'One of my mates is going to join us for a few hours,' he said. 'He's going to meet us at the marina. We'll do a bit of fishing together and we'll drop him back off after lunch.'

'Sounds great,' I said.

As we drove to the marina, Michael told me about his friend Alex. They'd gone to high school together and had been best mates for years. They drifted apart after leaving high school. They went to different universities, and between that and girlfriends... they still caught up, he said, but not as much as Michael wanted to.

I'd heard about Alex before, but had never really given much thought to meeting him. I'd just enjoyed it being Michael and myself out on the boat. I was wearing a bikini under my shorts and shirt, but I knew I'd stay dressed while Alex was around.

We arrived at the marina just after eight. Alex was waiting out the front. He seemed pleasant enough, but he wore the expression and had the body language of a man who was here out of courtesy and obligation rather than genuine desire to catch up with an old friend. Michael seemed oblivious and greeted him enthusiastically.

'This is Katie,' Michael introduced.

'Hi Katie,' Alex said, shaking my hand. 'Nice to meet you.'

Alex was another rich kid and, like Michael, I guessed that there was family money behind him. I knew what school they attended and as I work for the Education Department, I had a fairly good idea of what their high school experiences would have been like; cosy, privileged and within the confines of an all-male environment. Exactly the right starting point for a couple of cis, straight white guys who would one day rule the world.

Does that sound nasty? It does, doesn't it, even though I don't intend for it to come across that way. Both Michael and Alex were courteous and polite, and as we went to the boat they chatted about work, and asked me about mine.

There was no impropriety from Alex, no leering at mu tits, no rude behaviour, no nothing. On the journey out he told me he had a lawyer girlfriend who was out shopping with friends this morning. He was easy enough to talk to, but there was something pitying in the way he talked to me. I wondered if he knew I was trans.

After the lines were set, though, Alex seemed to relax. He started to joke and talk more normally to Michael and I. I wondered if I'd judged him too harshly. Maybe he'd just been nervous about meeting his friend's latest girlfriend.

Fish were caught and filleted. Beers were drunk. Lunch was made and eaten, and Alex and I fished off the front of the boat while Michael tidied up.

Shortly before it was time to take Alex back to the marina, Michael called for me to come in and give him a hand. I took in my line and went to see what my boyfriend needed help with.

'C'mon here,' he whispered. He pulled me into a position where we weren't visible to Alex if he was to turn around. He started to unbutton my shorts. 'Let's fuck.'

'Can we do this after we take him back to shore?'

'Where would the fun be in that?'

I rolled my eyes at that. I'd forgotten how grotty men could be. They always wanted to fuck in someone else's bed, or have a sneaky shag when their friends were around.

'You'll have to make it quick,' I warned.

'Oh, it'll be quick,' he assured me, pulling his board shorts open at the front. His cock was hard and shining with coconut oil. 'Pull your shorts down.'

I went and had a peek at what Alex was doing. He was still sitting out the front, fishing.

'Okay,' I said, shucking off my shorts and bikini bottoms. 'Go for it.'

Michael was inside me almost immediately. His hands moved up inside my shirt and grabbed my boobs.

'Fuck I'm horny,' he whispered, pulling the cups of my bikini top aside so he could fondle my nipples. 'You have no idea how much I've fantasized about this.'

He began to thrust in and out. I could smell the heavy scent of coconut oil intermingling with the smell of sex. If Alex came down here he wouldn't need to see us to know what was going on, he'd only need to breathe in a lungful air.

'Oh fuck, I'm going to come,' Michael hissed. He pumped in and out a few more times. 'Katie, Katie, Katie, oh fuck, I'm coming.'

No more than two minutes had elapsed between me pulling down my shorts and him climaxing. It was raw, basic sex, undertaken solely for his benefit.

When he was done, he pulled out and gave me a big bear hug. I glanced at him over my shoulder and he smiled guiltily.

'Do you have any tissues?' I asked. I could already feel his jizz sliding down my thighs.

'Yep, hold tight, I'll get you some.'

He quickly found tissues and helped me wipe up. I pulled up my shorts, fastened them, and took the handful of soggy Kleenex from him.

'I love you,' he said, giving me a final peck on the cheek. 'Thank-you.'

Michael went out to the front of the boat to resume fishing. I went to the bathroom. I didn't mind what he'd done, but he'd made more of a mess than a few tissues could wipe up, and I didn't want to spend the afternoon smelling like coconut oil and semen.

After I'd tidied myself, I went to the bed area and laid down to read a book. I figured the guys needed time to themselves, and I'd had enough fishing for the time being. Part of what I liked about being on the boat was the opportunity to read in peace.

Michael came in after a while and said it was time to take Alex back. I tilted my head back and smiled at him, and said I'd stay in the bed and read during the journey. I was three chapters from the end and I wanted to see what happened.

I finished reading just as we were reaching the marina. I got out to say good-bye to Alex, and he shook my hand and told me it was nice meeting me.

Michael and I made it about twenty metres out to sea when I spotted Alex's phone on the kitchenette table. We made a swift about turn, and when we reached the marina, Michael asked me to jump off and chase after Alex before he had a chance to get in his car.

With no idea of where Alex was even parked, I didn't like my chances, but luck was on my side. He'd stopped at the marina office to use the bathroom, and I caught him as he was walking out.

'Alex!' I called out, holding up his phone.

'Oh shit,' he said. 'I didn't even realise I didn't have it. Thanks for dropping it off.'

I walked up to him and handed it over. His smile was warm and genuine. There was none of the sense of obligation or pity that I'd sensed earlier.

'Is Michael on the boat?' he asked.

'Uh, yeah, he is,' I said. 'Is something wrong?'

Alex shook his head. 'No, not really. I just wanted to say that when I first got on the boat, you seemed to sense that I didn't really want to be there.'