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The hotel room in Dushanbe, the capital of Tajikistan, was filled with the dull hum of the air conditioner and with a tension that could almost be felt on the skin. The yellow dress squeezed his waist with a narrow belt, the fabric clung unpleasantly to the new hips, and from that humiliation Jack’s teeth literally clenched. He stood in front of the mirror, unwilling to look there again, his gaze dropped down and to the side.
His fingers nervously fiddled with the hem of the dress, and every time he felt it softly swaying around his hips, a shiver went through him. They were too big, as if someone had taken his old body and sketched a ridiculous, blatantly feminine caricature, with curves he wanted to turn away from, but they stubbornly reminded him of themselves with every movement.
He glanced down again, only to see how clearly the breasts pushed out under the fabric, pulling the dress forward. Even the slightest movement made them noticeable: a dragging, unpleasant sense of weight that had nothing in common with his former male body.
'Hell, this is humiliating!!!' flashed in his head, and again he looked away at the same spot on the floor, as if salvation lay there. But there was no salvation, only the reflection in the mirror and Emma’s voice, sounding far too calm for this catastrophe. She was, in fact, his only savior in this chaos.
Snorting, she adjusted the scarf on her head and leaned back slightly, settling on the edge of the bed. Before her, spread out on the blanket, was a whole “palette”: brushes, tubes of foundation, lip gloss, eyeshadow. Emma crossed her legs, tilting her head to the side, studying her finished work.
— Be grateful I managed to find even this dress, Jack, — her tone was almost annoyed, — It’s hard to get proper women’s clothing here.
Jack slowly turned his head toward her. His pressed lips trembled, and in his eyes flickered something between rage and despair.
— Grateful? — he spat out the word as if it burned his tongue.
— Would you rather walk outside in jeans and a man’s shirt? You think that wouldn’t raise questions?
— I’d rather not be… in this body at all! — he hissed through clenched teeth, yanking desperately at the hem of the yellow dress, trying to hide the protruding hips. His teeth bit into his lips, and right away he tasted the cheap lipstick in his mouth.
— Hey, careful there, — Emma raised her finger, — you’ll smear all the makeup off. I actually put effort into it, you know.
Jack jerked back sharply as if burned. The sweetish taste of cheap lipstick still clung to his tongue, twisting his face in disgust. His gaze fell on the mirror. The frozen expression staring back made the picture even more absurd. The male features — the rough jawline, the thick brows, stubbornly drawn into a grimace of anger — were outlined with bright makeup so that he looked like a ridiculous mask. The red lipstick shone too brightly, the cheeks were unnaturally pink, and the black eyeliner only emphasized the lost look in his eyes.
— You call this “effort”? — his voice cracked into a rasp. — I look like… like a clown!
— Wipe that grimace off your face and smile, — she paused, waiting until his eyes returned to the mirror, as if she wanted to savor the moment or maybe some kind of inner female revenge, not aimed at Jack specifically, but at mankind in general. — Come on, Jack. Smile. A smile would look really good on you.
— Are you fucking kidding me right now? — he turned to her, and there was so much anger in his voice that his cheeks, under the thick layer of blush, flared even brighter.
Emma raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her breasts, like a teacher watching a spoiled student.
— A little. It’s just that I’ve heard that line from men so many times I couldn’t resist, — she smirked slightly, though her eyes stayed cold. — Besides, at least in your current situation, it’s true. You need to look like a woman and not stand out. Anyway, do you remember anything at all about that place?
— No. — Jack shot back, — I already told you. I was in the room, fell asleep. Woke up to your hysterical screaming.
— And what the hell else was I supposed to do when, in my boyfriend’s hotel room, I saw a naked woman sleeping in his bed? — Emma suddenly leaned back, her voice shaking on the last word. — Do you even get how that looked?
Jack shut his eyes, as if trying to shut everything out. The word “woman” burned worse than acid. He clenched his fists, nails cutting deep into his palms.
— I told you already: that wasn’t me! Somebody… somebody did this, Emma! — he suddenly jabbed his finger at the scar on his neck. — You see?!
On the last word his voice cracked, and instead of his male voice, a female note suddenly slipped out.
Emma flinched, her eyes widening, but within a second she squinted again, as if forcing herself to keep control.
— Oh, that was… unexpected, — she drawled, slowly rising from the bed. — Looks like your voice is starting to adjust to this body.
Jack recoiled sharply, as if even he was scared by the sound that tore out of his throat. He swallowed, feeling his breasts tremble slightly with his breathing under the dress, and forced out:
— Shut up… — but at the end of the phrase, again that thin female note quivered, sending a chill down his skin.
Emma slowly stepped closer. Her steps on the carpet were measured, cold, like a doctor walking in to deliver a diagnosis.
— Do you realize you’ve been holed up in this room for four days already? — she leaned closer, eyes narrowed, her scarf slipping slightly onto her forehead. — Our flight’s in three days. You need fake documents. And for that, you need a photo. We go to the photo studio. Then to this Rustam.
Jack lifted his eyes, still clutching the hem of the yellow dress in his fingers.
— And who the hell is he anyway? — there was more fear than anger in his voice. — You want me to trust some guy in a back alley? You haven’t even seen him yourself.
— God, I swear I’ll just walk out and leave you here. I don’t know who he is, but right now he’s your only chance to get out legally. — Emma snorted, — We don’t have much time, and the hotel staff already asked where “the man who checked into the hotel” went. I had to make up a story that you got sick.
— Sick…! — Jack exhaled, and once again on the last syllable his voice cracked. If someone had been standing outside the door listening, they wouldn’t have heard a broken male voice but a pathetic female squeak, full of despair.
Jack clapped his hand over his mouth, lipstick smearing onto his palm, though he didn’t notice, his eyes squeezed shut.
— That’s enough. Stop acting like a girl. Get it together. — Emma gripped his hand. To Jack it now seemed much larger than he remembered.
His heart clenched.
— God… — he whispered. — Maybe we should at least try to find them…
Emma yanked her hand away as if he’d said something offensive.
— Find them? — her eyes flashed. — We already talked about this! We have no fucking clue who “they” are or how to find “them.” If nothing works out now, you’re stuck here. Do you get that? Right now you’re just a woman without documents in Tajikistan. Is that what you want?
Jack trembled, crossing his arms over his breasts and immediately feeling the still-unfamiliar softness pressing against his forearms.
— Well, hey, on the bright side. You’ll find yourself a husband here. Be a loyal wife. Pop out a bunch of kids. Families here are traditionally big. And women know their place. Your father will be happy. He always wanted you to have a wife like that.
Something inside Jack snapped. Emma’s words lashed his nerves like a whip.
— Don’t start! — he shouted, but again his voice betrayed him, breaking into a high, almost hysterical pitch. — Let’s just go already!
Emma gave him a long, heavy look, and across her face flickered a shadow of satisfaction.
— Finally, — she said dryly. — Don’t forget your purse.
Jack’s eyes fell on the little white purse on the chair. With its decorations, it looked ridiculous. Forcing himself, he grabbed it and slung it over his shoulder, feeling the strap bite into his skin like a burn.
Emma gave a short nod, as if ticking off a box on a checklist.
— That’s a good girl. Now let’s go.