Trying again, I looked where my finger had landed and smiled, South Devon, near the Cornish border–Penmarris Cove. It looked like a small fishing village–that would be where I would try to rebuild my life.

‘That will do.’ I said starting the car and following the signposts that said West Country.

And now the story continues…

It took thirty minutes to get on the motorway that leads down to Devon and the West Country–plenty of time to think about what I should do. I know I wasn’t thinking straight–the shock of my wife and her betrayal would probably haunt me for the rest of my life. At first I blamed myself for being transgendered, but my wife came into the marriage with eyes wide open. I told her on the second date, who and what I was. She seemed to get a buzz out of my far from normal gender identity. The one thing she was concerned about was whether I took the final step and had SRS, but I said that I had no intention of doing that and she seemed quite happy with my response.

We had a lovely white wedding at a little church near Maidstone in Kent, where she had been born. The only down side for me was that I wasn’t the one wearing the wedding gown.

The service was traditional; the only difference being that we both read the famous poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning, taking turns to read each wonderful line. I felt a lump in my throat as I remembered the words:

I had to stop in a lay-by for a few minutes get myself back together again–but after I pulled myself together and gave myself a good talking to, I continued on, as I still had a long way to travel.

As the car sped its way toward my destination, I wondered whether I should have screamed and shouted when I caught them naked in our house on one of our beds; but, what was the point? She obviously didn’t find me enough for her, so she went elsewhere for love; or was it just the sex? For all I knew he was the milkman, plumber or whatever. Shouting, screaming and fighting wouldn’t have changed anything. Our marriage was over and beyond repair once she decided that I wasn’t what she wanted any more.

We were so happy at first, doing everything together and enjoying adventurous sex. We liked to ‘do it’ in lots of different places. Including on a train, a mile up in the air, on a ship, (we liked to travel). We never managed a bus, but probably would have done given time. Where was I? Oh yes–we made love in a field, on top of a cliff and even in the car park of our local pub; you get the message, we enjoyed life to the full. It wasn’t just the sex, we loved going to the theatre and concerts, eating out, parties–all things a loving couple like to do together. Then it all started to unravel about a year ago and I always thought that it was my fault. Had I gone too far with my dressing? Every evening and at weekends, I spent dressed as a girl. Every night, I went to bed in silky nighties and this seemed to help heighten our lovemaking for a while. Olivia only saw me dressed as a male on the occasions that I needed to be–going to work or other functions that required me to be en drab.

Sighing, I came out of my reverie as I took the slip road to the M4; traffic was quite heavy even here as the rush hour was in full swing. There was quite a lot of stop start traffic and once again, as I didn’t have to concentrate on driving at speed, I returned to my thoughts.

Sinking into a bit of self-pity; I remembered the good times. Tears streaked down my face as I remembered the first time we made love. I was a virgin and I think she was. I’m not so sure now as she seemed to be a bit of an expert and you don’t learn everything reading books. Anyway, for me the experience was lovely–the culmination of the love we had for each other…

The road seemed to clear miraculously ahead and soon I was up to speed again. Concentrating on the traffic and the road ahead meant that my disturbing thoughts were put in the background. A good thing really as the last thing I wanted to do was start crying again at nearly eighty miles an hour!

I drove for nearly two hours and it was getting dark now. I saw the sign warning that a service area was one mile ahead and decided to have a break and do something else too.

Pulling up at a parking bay, quite a way from anyone else–it was not very full as it was a weekday and getting a bit late. I switched off the engine and shut my eyes for a moment.

I must have dropped off because when I looked at the clock on the dashboard, half an hour had passed. There were no cars near me and I was relatively alone. Looking at my drab suit, I grimaced, hating the sight of it and the feel of the shirt and tie, tight against my neck. I made a decision then, one that had been at the back of my mind ever since I saw Olivia and him. Taking off my jacket, I threw it on the back seat. My tie followed.

Looking around to make sure that I was still unobserved, I got out of the car and then going to the boot, opened it. I had brought no male clothing with me as subconsciously, I suppose, I had decided that I no longer wanted to be seen as a male in any way shape or form. The dichotomy of trying to live a dual life hadn’t worked for me or Olivia, so I made the decision.

Opening a case, I pulled out a pink sweatshirt and grey jogging pants, putting them on the back seat. Returning to the boot, I rummaged around the case for the other things that I needed. There was a selection of bras and my breast forms, I picked out a white bra, some pink sports socks and my white trainers with pink edging that had been jammed down the side of the case when I hurriedly packed it. I now had all I needed and shut the boot. Looking around, another car had parked about 30 yards away and I waited for the couple to get out of their car and walk hand in hand towards the services building before I continued with my plan, such as it was.

I sat in the back of the car–plenty of room in a 5 series BMW, luckily–and after checking that all was clear, I got changed. Off came my shirt and I immediately put on the bra and placed the rather cold breast forms next to my hairless skin. After a small adjustment of the straps, I was okay. Then I put on the sweatshirt. With one eye on possible sightseers, I removed my trousers; I was wearing a pair of pink satin panties already, so I didn’t have to change them.

I pulled up the jogging pants, not easy in a car but with a certain amount of Houdini-like contortions, I managed to put them on. Finally, I put on my pink socks and trainers and then I was done–well that bit was anyway. It was quite dark now and I only had the lights of the parking area to guide me, I took out the brush form the glove compartment and gave my longish blond hair a good brush pulling the hair back and concentrating on the tangled end bits. Then taking a pink scrunchie that had been around the handle of the brush, I put my hair up in a pony tail. The mirror wasn’t too good, so I didn’t see if my hair was okay but as the first thing that I was going to do was go into the ladies loo, I didn’t worry about it.

I didn’t shave much, being light skinned and blond, so I just put a bit of foundation on and squinting in the small vanity mirror, put on some pink lippy. A few minutes later, after picking up my shoulder bag, I locked the car and walked towards the bright lights of the service area, feeling a bit like a jogger in my outfit but, hopefully looking the part.

Not wanting to hang around, I went straight to the ladies–something I had only done twice before–but hell I was the new me now, all girl and proud of it. I had to assert myself no matter how much of a coward I felt deep inside. Heart thumping, I pushed the swing doors open.

As soon as I walked in, without looking to left or right, I went to an empty stall, shut the door, pulled down my joggers and panties and sat down. Sighing with relief, I let it all go, making sure that my wayward and now unwanted appendage was pointing downward–Unwanted, that was a thought, did I really want to go all the way now?

I didn’t want to go there so I finished the business and after wiping myself carefully and taking my courage in both hands, I unbolted the door and went out, certain that thousands of women would stop and stare at me.