A few stolen hours

I had to go into the office today, followed by a meeting at a hotel where the top brass were giving a briefing.

One of those environments where you can’t help but notice the room and what I noticed most was the women.

Most of them had clearly made an effort — dresses, hair done, makeup on point, tights and heels maybe trying to impress the top table I don't know but was a bit unusual to see so many of the women in work all "dolled up".. of course I was a little jealous as there I was in black shoes, black trousers and a black shirt, manly haircut, stubble… looking like some Lord of the Sith.

The meeting finished, I headed home and planned to work the rest of the day from there.

Then came the text from my wife:

“House is yours until 1900‑ish.”

One of those messages that doesn’t need explaining. We both knew what she meant.

A gentle hint. Permission. Space. Time.

I replied saying I would, but that I had so much work to do. Almost convincing myself I wouldn’t bother.

But then I thought, sod it.

Opportunities like that don’t come around often.

I grabbed my things and laid them out on the bed — always a ritual in itself — and that’s when I heard a noise in the house.

My heart jumped.

I went to investigate and… my oldest was still there not yet gone out or gone out and some back before leaving for the rest of the day.

A proper close call.

Had I already got changed, I’d have been caught out completely.

Déjà vu, because the day before something similar had happened.

A university lecture cancelled, I thought everyone had gone, came downstairs ready to shave and start getting made up… only to find someone in the shower.

Twice in two days I’d misjudged having the house to myself.

So I waited.

By about 1600, the coast was finally clear I debated should I and Yes won.

Three solid hours.

Enough time to be and to unwind. I decided to go for it.

I part‑dressed, came down to the bathroom for a close shave and moisturise, then headed back upstairs.

As I worked, I did my makeup slowly, bit by bit, between emails and tasks.

No rush. No panic.

Then I got dressed properly.

Matching navy blue lingerie, a navy blue dress, stockings I’d bought from SHEIN — my first time in stockings in ages rather than tights — and my heels oh not forgetting a spritz of DKNY perfume..

That familiar feeling returned almost immediately. Alignment. Calm. Davina.

Magical escapism from the stressed male me.

I spent a few hours working late on my laptop, chatting online with other t‑girls, just existing comfortably in that space.

Then, at about 18:35‑ish, reality came calling. Time doesn't half fly when you're a woman.. My Wife rang to say they were just leaving. About ten minutes away.

Cue the mad dash.

Undressing quickly, packing everything away, scrubbing off every last trace of makeup. I hate that part — rushing to undo Davina and return to male me always feels abrupt when I could quite easily stay made up a few more hours.

I just about managed it in time.

Despite the rush, it was a lovely, unexpected few hours.

A gift, really. And as usual, I took a few selfies.

For a quick makeover, I didn’t do too badly at all.

I'm hopeful of more Davina days in February but it would be nice to have a full day or even half a day and not working as Davina as the time goes so fast.

Davina