Please Join Us on the Boat

We met online. Doesn't everyone meet online? It's so easy, so available, so safe. The photo shoot had gone really well, I was very happy with it. Of close to a 1,000 pictures maybe 100 were what I was hoping for, were of look the image that I wanted Erin to project to the world. It was the "look again" image. Sitting on a bar stool, legs crossed, skirt high, a glazed look to dark eyes. "Hey, did you notice the legs?" I used several pictures as my profile portfolio on a website, a website that would get many hits from people interested in CDs and TGs. It was early spring. The winter doldrums were over, time to come out of my self-imposed exile.

He commented on my pictures. Nothing stupid, nothing piggish, more just a simple compliment. No pressure, no suggestion that we meet. Looking back, he was stalking me, I was his prey, it would only be a matter of time.

The first date was totally a non-event. Very suggestive Levi's, a simple T, sandals, eyes that took days to make up. We agreed to meet at the park and ride on brown deer road. From there he would drive us to a bar called The Home Run. I had no idea what to expect - with him, with our date, with the bar. I was there first, of at least did not see him when I parked. He parked next to me, into his car I went abc the first thing I saw was strength, physical strength. He was in his mid 50's, blonde hair, glasses, but mostly a man of strength. If he wanted to control me physically he would have little worry about my ability to resist. Before we left the park and ride I said I hoped tonight would be about conversation, that I was out for the first time in sometime, and I was nervous. He did not respond.

The drive into the city was pleasant, I was on a date. We parked a few doors down from the bar and walked to the bar's door. I was very nervous, I was very nervous. When we walked in a sense of instant calm settled in on me. There was a bartender, obviously gay, two male customers sitting at the bar, and us. I relaxed, I was not on display. We sat at a distant table, drinks and conversation started and flowed quickly and easily. Erin began to emerge more and more as the evening wore on. At no point was he aggressive or threatening. He controlled the conversation, drawing Erin out one question at a time.

How long has Erin been with you? Did your family know Erin was there? Was Erin able to enjoy high school? Did Erin have dates, with one boy, two, more? Was Erin sexually present in high school? What did Erin do in high school? With one boy? With two? Does Erin want to talk about this? I won't ask about your time in college. Later if you don't mind. I would like to learn more and more about Erin. I have to tell you the pictures you posted online are very special, they say so much about you, Terre as well as Erin.

The night ended too soon. We drove back to the park and ride and as we did my depression grew with each mile. He sensed that. By the time we had parked at the park and ride I was almost numb with depression and frustration. I was curled in the passenger seat, trying to hide, so close to tears I felt as though I would suddenly pass out in pain. He broke the silence - just so you know, you said you wanted to talk tonight, nothing else. He was clearly telling me two things - we did it your way tonight, AND, the next time we would do it his way.

But the next date was a shock. He suggested a dinner date in the Lake Geneva area. He put a dress code in place. He told me it was heels and a dress. He confused me when he told me that I was to dress as if the most important thing in my life that day was to get laid, because he promised that my getting laid would be the one thing that would not happen. For such a date I fell back on my support network, limited though it was. Terry's hairstylist was on Mason Street. I had shown her pictures from the first photo shoot with TGMiss in Racine. I can still see the look of shock and surprise when she saw the pictures. Her words - my God Terry, these are awesome. And sexy, my God, so sexy. She became my personal makeup artist. She made Erin for that date, she told me I was her artistic project and I was. A pure stroke of fate, the Mason Street salon was closed on the day of the dinner date. I walked into her salon as Terry, some 5 hours later he picked Erin up at the salon. She watched me leave the salon from the shadows of the back wall.

Dinner was exquisite, but not without a serious, downright awful attack of nerves. Walking into a restaurant that was once part of the Lake Geneva Playboy Club was a guaranteed disaster and public humiliation. I would trip, I would fall, I would burst into tears. All these things would happen and none of them did. He watched, he judged, he took ownership, he seduced me and I was eager. He was a master. My hand placed lightly on his knee was equally picked up and placed on the table. The slightest move on my part produced an equal move from him - in the opposite direction. A different kind of frustration starts to gnaw at me, I was failing. The conversation picked up where it had left off on our first date. Erin in high school was the focal point, her dates, with who, what was done, not done, what was liked, not liked. A steady flow of wine, very soft but precise questions, Terre's need to talk about Erin, it was a very engaging evening. My fears ebbed, the wine became an incentive, I told him exactly what I was - a woman trapped in a man's body, a woman who wanted to use her intelligence and her sexuality to advance but was blocked in a man's life, a woman willing to take risks because life had made her a man.

The wine spoke - I told him I see myself as the Egyptian princess caught masturbating in the temple by a group of male priests, forcibly restrained and prevented from leaving the temple, mummified and taken to a niche in the temple where I am then placed and sealed within - I am trapped don't you understand?

Before he could respond I told him that I was entranced with the notion of victim hood. It was, it is enticing, it is sexual, it is who and what I see as Erin's persona. I was raising the risk level, suggesting extremes that could put me at risk. I did not look at him after that, I sat very still waiting for him to say something critical or derogatory. He did not say a word, not a single word until he asked if I would care for another glass of wine. We left shortly after and despite being quite drunk, I did not trip, stumble or fall. When we reached his car he opened the door for me, I avoided being a spectacle getting in, he got in the car and when he failed to start the car I knew what was next. He put his hand around the back of my head, I could feel strength in that hand, and guided my head down into his lap. All he said was "now it's your turn."

It was his time to control and he did. There was no possibility of resisting him, he had the strength to ensure my compliance. The word "swallow" was simply an afterthought as well as totally unnecessary.

Several days later he suggested a day on Lake Michigan, he had access to a very comfortable boat. Of course I agreed but again was hit with a panic attack - what to wear, makeup, my renewed loss of confidence that I could do this.

I had to look many, many places before I found what I was looking for - the leather look for a day on the lake. When he had asked me to go I was giddy. My Erin side was appealing to others, it was the kind of existence I had thought of for years. It had events, sexual events, that I wanted to happen time after time. It had a sense of Erin belonging. To be invited to spend a day on a boat on Lake Michigan - shock. Yes, shock coupled with anticipation and excitement. Once again I approaching a state of hysteria when the stylist rescued me again, tights and top that were perfect for a cool day on the Lake. I was ready.

The boat was kept at the port Washington harbor. I drove myself, a chance to talk to myself about where I was, what was happening. My self-described horror in the temple was beginning to fade, my shackles were not quite so confining. I made it to the marina and the boat without suffering further panic attacks. That is, until I saw him sitting on a back deck with two other men. The thoughts came fast - oh no, not today, what the fuck is going on, this will never work - while my legs carried me down the dock and onto boat. Sitting on that deck with three men was scary yet attractive. What was going to happen? Handle this Erin, this is what you came for.

It began so simply. He suggest a round of drinks, easy conversation, and then heading out onto the Lake for the afternoon. Unlike our earlier dates, he led the conversation. He was masterful - we met online, we met in person for a drink and conversation, Erin began to emerge before high school, Erin crossed over in high school and went public a number of times, Erin discovered the joys of sex, but after high school Erin went private, at least until she met me.. He ended with words that scared me, excited me and branded me - after our dinner in Lake Geneva she gave me one of the most best blowjobs I have ever had, right Erin? I am sitting there, on a boat, drink in hand, with 3 men, 2 total strangers and 1 that I barely knew and it was a blinding flash of reality - you are walking the tiers again. The man sitting across from me said it was time for another round of drinks. I watched him pour several, drop something into be of the glasses, bring the glasses back to the group and hand me the drink he had just tinkered with. I was going down. I drank the offered drink and wondered how long before I would feel the effects of whatever he had given me. As if on cue, when I finished my drink the three of them stood and walked into the boat's cabin. Without effort I was walked in with them.

I think I thought about the drug, when and how would it hit me. I did not realize that it already had when I was on my knees in front of him. There were no spoken words, no orders, no requests. I was outside looking in, watching Erin go down on him while he held her head firmly in his hands. I didn't see her move to the second man of the third. I saw her lying on the floor but then on a dinette table, face down as one of the men stood behind her, fingers meshed into her leggings as he slid them down her legs and off. There was a voice, not one I recognized but it was excited, it was saying something about "great" but it made no sense to me. I did not lose consciousness but was surprised and confused that I was lying in a bed, a bunk on the boat. I was naked. Rather than think I put my head back on the bunk and thought I would either be sick or cry, or both. It was dark, maybe night, on the boat, by myself, naked, and trying to understand what might have happened. If I was awake then why was it dark? Had I been unconscious the entire time? What day was it? From the bunk to the center of the cabin was a short distance. Nobody, not a person except me. I was alone. I had been used, of that I was sure but at least I was alone.

What time was it? What day was it? Walking was difficult, very difficult. Were they ought for pleasure at my expense or were they ought to ruin me? The way I felt, both. It really did not register at first but at some point I realized I was both naked and without clothes anywhere in sight. How ironic - here I was on a boat at the Port Washington marina, naked, spent after having been obviously drugged, sexually used by who and in what way I could not say - and as I looked out I saw the hill where sat an assisted living residence. It was to there that years earlier I had taken an alcoholic woman to live out the remaining years of her life. It was that woman who years earlier had said numerous times that she wished her son, me, had been born a girl. It was that woman who made sure each day that before I left for school she "did" my hair. It was that woman who spent hours before I took part in school plays creating a masterpiece with makeup. And now I stood in a boat, alone, staring up at that hill. At least tonight, if it was in fact night, I was just a few yards from my parked car. At some point I would be able to leave the boat, naked and alone, reach my car and slip out of Port Washington.