The woman had torn me apart with her affair and the following bitterness. I can’t say I was on the next plane, but it was pretty damn close.For the first few months in America, I’d hung around Chicago where my agent had her office. She’d found me an apartment to rent while I was selling my home back in the small village in the south of England. I was surprised to discover that the house I’d grown up in sold for a whopping million and a half pounds.With that financial freedom, I started to look for somewhere else to live. I don’t like big cities; I was finding it difficult to write in the enclosed space of the city.I’d lived and worked all my life in a small village set amongst the rolling hill and orchards of the Kent countryside. The only time I’d left it had been for the three years it took me to get my degree in history at university.Jenny, my agent, listened to my tales of frustrations of ever finding just what I wanted, and suggested I look further afield. She’d grown up in. One particular Tuesday I was home alone; a raritybecause my mother seldom left home because of her physical ailments. Myuncle had taken her into Lexington that day for some medical tests andI knew they'd be gone for hours. I had showered and put on my bestpanties along with my bra and slip before walking into my mother's roomto gaze longingly into her closet. Most of her clothes were utilitarianbut some were amazingly nice to someone like me. I would take out thespecial ones one by one and hold them before me as I gazed into thefull-length mirror. It was as far as I dared go but the desires werekilling me. I knew that the softest, silkiest slips and panty hose wereright there in the room with me and that with only a very minimaleffort I could quickly be dressed completely as a woman. It was enoughto make me swoon with emotion. I was holding my mother's wedding gownup to my chin when I heard the noise behind me.To be truthful I had heard the noises earlier but had discounted them.We.
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