Away auditing - a few years ago

I never expected that work trip to give me any chance to dress.

Four days away with two colleagues, sharing meals, spending every evening working on audit notes — it didn’t exactly scream “private time.”But I still packed everything.

The makeup. The hosiery. The heeled boots. The lingerie. The wig. A couple of dresses.Just in case.

When we checked into the hotel, there was a problem with my room.

Annoying at first — until they upgraded me. A big business-class room on the first floor, across a glass walkway overlooking the bar and restaurant.

My colleagues ended up on some high floor together. I was tucked away, alone, with space and privacy.

It felt like fate tapping me on the shoulder.

The first two days were textbook:Breakfast, depot, audit, back to the hotel, a drink, a meal, then hours of writing up findings.

On the second night, when I got back to my room, the temptation was too much. I laid everything out, got fully dressed — makeup, wig, tights, boots, the lot — and worked the whole evening as Davina.

It felt amazing, just existing like that in the soft hotel lighting.

But the third night… I felt different. More daring. Restless.I’d already decided earlier that day: Tonight, I’m stepping outside.

After the usual drink and meal with my colleagues, I went back to my room, heart thumping with anticipation. I got dressed again — taking my time, perfecting the look.

I picked up a small handbag, looked at myself in the mirror, and thought, Right. Let’s do this.

Walking out of my room felt like stepping onto a stage. The walkway was all glass — anyone in the bar below could look up and see me.

Heels clicking on the floor, legs in black tights, dress swaying, trying to look confident even though my heart was punching through my chest.

I'd made it across and down the stairs into the foyer of the hotel, my stomach dropped.

My two colleagues were walking towards me, mid-conversation, heading straight past.

I just kept walking. Eyes forward. My mind screaming my heart beating as loud as a bass drum.And they didn’t even look at me.

Not a hint of recognition.I walked right past them. I'm sure I let a little laugh out to myself at what had just happened but it also gave me a n air of confidence that is passed a big test there. Why would they assume their colleague would be walking past them presenting as a woman.

Through the revolving door and out into the warm evening. That late-summer, early-autumn kind of warm where the air feels gentle on your skin. I had no plan — I just walked.

Through the old town. Across cobbles (which are not heel-friendly). Past shop windows where I caught glimpses of myself — blonde, long legs, boots, looking like any other woman out for the evening.

I ended up at a Wetherspoons I’d passed earlier in the week.

I walked straight in, sat in a booth, and ordered a half pint on the app.

Sat there quietly, people-watching, trying to act as naturally feminine as possible. And honestly? No one cared.No one stared.I blended in.For that half hour, I was just… me. Or the other me.

When I left, the cobbles were even worse after a beer, but I made it back to the hotel.

The foyer was busy with late check-ins.

I walked right across it, up the stairs, and onto the walkway. I glanced down — my colleagues were in the bar again. If either of them had looked up, they’d have seen a well-dressed woman with fantastic legs heading toward my room.

But again, no one looked as far as I knew .. I didn't want any eye contact so I looked straight ahead at my hotel room door.

My keycard beeped green that was a relief in itself.

I slipped inside and shut the door behind me.And I just stood there for a moment, heart racing, letting it sink in.

I’d done it.

I’d been out in public again — fully, confidently — passed by my own colleagues twice, had a drink in a pub, walked the streets of a town as a woman, and come back without a single problem.

It was exhilarating. One of the last times I ever went out in public as her.But it’s a memory I’ll never forget.

Davina