Jacqueline - part 13-17

Part 13

It had been three months since Jacqueline learned the truth about her new life. Three long, agonizing months filled with doubt and self-hatred. She had tried to fight against this reality, but every day it felt like her old self was slipping away, dissolving into the woman she now saw in the mirror. And now, sitting at her vanity, she was once again turning on the camera, preparing for another livestream.

Jacqueline sighed, adjusting the ring light one more time. The glow perfectly illuminated her face as she opened the laptop, preparing for her weekly beauty livestream. The makeup was laid out neatly on the vanity—brushes, palettes, and foundations all waiting to be put on display. She took a deep breath, straightened her posture, and gave her hair one last fluff.

"Bon, let’s get this over with," she muttered, adjusting her hair and putting on a bright, fake smile as the camera turned on.

“Bonjour, mes amours! Today, we are talking about 'ow to achieve ze perfect summer glow!” Her voice was bright and cheerful, her smile wide and effortless. But inside, everything was boiling over with shame, and disgust at herself for this act. She knew she shouldn’t be doing this, but she just couldn't stop.

As Jacqueline started applying foundation, a soft chime echoed from her laptop. A donation notification. Her eyes flicked to the screen, and a small smile played on her lips.

“Oh, merci, darling! Zat's so generous of you,” she said sweetly to the donor, her fingers gliding smoothly over her skin as she applied the product. Her stomach fluttered. Despite herself, the rush of receiving money like that felt good—addictively so.

More donations trickled in as she moved on to contouring. Another chime, and her heart skipped a beat.

“Oh là là, you guys are spoiling me today!” she giggled, turning her face slightly to show the perfect blend of contour. “Zank you so much!”

The praise and financial support were like a drug—something that made the shame of what she was doing fade away, at least for a little while. She hated how much she liked it.

“And voilà! A perfect look for a summer date night,” she said with a final wink, finishing the look. Her hand hovered over the ‘end live’ button, but just before she clicked it, another large donation popped up. She forced another smile, feeling her stomach churn—but also that familiar rush of excitement.

“And zat’s all for today, mes amours,” she said, smiling brightly one last time. “Don’t forget to follow me for more beauty tips! Merci beaucoup, and à bientôt!” she said before ending the stream. As soon as the camera was off, her smile faded, and she exhaled in frustration.

“Mon dieu, I 'ate zis,” she muttered, burying her face in her hands. But the truth was undeniable. She knew she would do it again. She had to. She had debts, bills, rent to pay... In this new life as Jacqueline she had no choice. And worst of all - she loved this.

Part 14

Just as Jacqueline was about to get up, Marie-Claire entered the room, with a bottle of red wine in hand. Jacqueline groaned inwardly, already irritated with herself after the livestream she both hated and couldn’t stop doing. She ran a hand through her hair, frustrated at her own weakness.

Marie-Claire set the bottle and two glasses down on the vanity, her movements quiet and deliberate. She poured the wine, offering a glass to Jacqueline with a small, tender smile.

“I thought... maybe we could use a drink” Marie-Claire said softly as Jacqueline accepted the wine glass, feeling the coldness of the glass on her palm.

Jacqueline accepted the glass but didn’t sip. “Why? To celebrate zat I am officially a fake, hmm?” she snapped, her accent thicker as her emotions bubbled up. “Anozer livestream, anozer day pretending to love zis... crap. And for what?” She motioned angrily at the pile of donation notifications still flashing on her screen. “For zis? Ugh! I’m stuck in zis, and... and worst of all... I don’t even know why I like it sometimes.”

Marie-Claire’s smile faded slightly, but she remained calm, sitting down beside Jacqueline. “You’re not stuck, Jacqueline. There’s always a choice.”

Jacqueline pulled away, standing up abruptly. “A choice? What choice? Strip at zat damn club? Zat is no better!” She glared at her reflection in the mirror, hating the person looking back at her. “I go out there, shake my ass for disgusting men, because zat is ze only way to pay ze bills. I am... trapped in zis life, Marie.”

Marie-Claire placed her glass on the vanity, turning to face Jacqueline fully. “That’s why we need to talk,” she said, her voice gentle but serious. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you for a long time.”

Jacqueline crossed her arms, her face a mix of frustration and skepticism. “Oh? And what is zat, hmm? What else could zere possibly be?”

Marie-Claire took a deep breath, her hands trembling slightly as she held the wine glass. “You’re right. You’re trapped. But not in the way you think.” Marie-Claire took a breath, trying to find the right way to say it. “Jacqueline... Something I’ve kept from you.”

“Kept from me? What are you talking about?” Jacqueline frowned slightly, confused. During these months, Jacqueline began to trust Mary-Claire completely - in this new world, she was now the only and very big support for her.

Marie-Claire exhaled slowly, her fingers nervously twisting the stem of her glass. She glanced at Jacqueline, her gaze full of concern but also determination. “Jacqueline... I haven’t been completely honest with you. I didn’t want to hurt you, or make things worse, but I think it’s time you knew the truth.”

Part 15

Jacqueline’s patience snapped. She slammed her glass down, the wine sloshing over the edge as her fingers trembled. “Mon dieu! Just spit it out, Marie! What are you talking about? No more games, no more secrets!”

Marie-Claire winced but remained calm, her voice soft and steady. “Okay... okay. You deserve to know the truth.” She took a deep breath, looking Jacqueline in the eye. “I know about the transformation, about the altered reality.”

Jacqueline’s heart stopped for a moment. “Quoi?! What... what are you saying?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“I was sent to protect you,” Marie-Claire continued, her voice soft but firm. “To make sure nothing happened to you during the transformation. I was part of the team that altered reality... and I remember everything. You were Jacob. And I knew.”

Jacqueline’s legs felt weak. She stumbled back, gripping the edge of the vanity for support. “No... no, zat cannot be,” she muttered, shaking her head in disbelief. “You knew? All zis time?”

Marie-Claire nodded, her eyes filled with a mixture of guilt and sorrow. “ was assigned to keep an eye on you during the process of your transformation, help you to adjust, but... things got complicated. I wasn’t supposed to stay, but I stayed because I... I fell in love with you, Jacqueline.”

“Mon dieu...” Jacqueline whispered. The words hit Jacqueline like a punch to the gut. Her heart pounded in her chest as she stared at Marie-Claire in disbelief. “You knew I was not supposed to be zis... woman, and you said nothing?!” Jacqueline’s blood ran cold. “You let me believe all zis was real, zat I was crazy?! And now you say you love me?!” Her voice trembled with rage.

“I didn’t want to hurt you!” Marie-Claire pleaded, stepping closer. “I didn’t know how to tell you without making things worse. I was going to leave, but I couldn’t. You—”

Jacqueline pushed her away, her voice trembling with rage. “You lied to me, Marie! I trusted you!”

“I’m sorry,” Marie-Claire whispered while looking at the ground, unable to meet Jacqueline's gaze.

“I need to get out of 'ere,” Jacqueline muttered, grabbing her purse and heading for the door. She had wanted to skip her shift tonight, but after what Marie-Claire had revealed... she needed to get away. To clear her head.

“Jacqueline, wait!” Marie-Claire called after her, but Jacqueline was already gone, her heels clicking furiously against the floor as she stormed out of the apartment.

Part 16

Jacqueline pushed through the doors of the nightclub, the heavy bass of the music thumping in her chest as she made her way backstage. The low hum of the club's music buzzed in Jacqueline's ears as she stepped into the changing room.

The other dancers were already there—some chatting in front of mirrors, others stretching, applying makeup, adjusting their barely-there costumes. It was a routine Jacqueline knew too well by now, though the sensation of it all still made her stomach churn.

She slipped into her skimpy outfit—a tight black bra and matching thong, with a pair of dangerously high heels.

As she adjusted the straps of her outfit, she caught her reflection in the mirror. She didn’t know why she came tonight. Why she put herself through this. She could have just stayed home. But instead, she was here. Because it was better than the alternative.

The feel of the skimpy outfit clinging to her curves made her shiver, though deep down she couldn’t deny that there was something oddly... comfortable about it now. Comfortable? She thought, the disgust rising in her throat.

“Hey, gorgeous! You’re late again!” a cheery voice called from the corner. Jacqueline turned to see one of the other dancers, a tall brunette named Brandy, grinning at her. Brandy was one of the few kind ones—friendly, warm, and always quick to help out the new girls.

"Sorry," Jacqueline mumbled, slipping into her designated spot. The makeup brushes, powders, and lipsticks were all lined up in front of her, ready to be used.

"No worries. You look like you’ve had a rough day, though." Brandy eyed her with concern, but Jacqueline just gave a half-hearted smile and looked away.

On the other side of the room, another voice piped up, this one dripping with sarcasm. “Rough day? Or just late to her own little pity party?” It was Mona, the reigning queen of bitches in the club. A blonde with a sharp tongue, Mona had made Jacqueline’s life hell since she started.

Go to hell, Mona,” Brandy shot back.

Jacqueline rolled her eyes and didn’t bother responding. 'What am I even doing here?' she thought, rubbing her temples. Every part of her felt torn apart. One part of her still screamed that she was Jacob, that this wasn’t supposed to be her life. But another part whispered that this was her now, that no matter how much she fought it, Jacqueline was who she had become. And a part of her, she hated to admit it, was starting to like the attention, the money, the ease of slipping into this life.

Her fingers brushed over the soft fabric of her bra, the cool metal of the ring at the center between her breasts sending a shiver down her spine. She applied her makeup mechanically, her thoughts swirling.

'Why am I here? I'm fucking Greg and... a man' she asked herself again, but deep down she knew the answer. It was a distraction. A way to not think about Marie-Claire, the lies, the debts, and the creeping reality that maybe, just maybe, she was never going to get out of this.

The door to the room swung open, and the heavyset figure of the boss, Enrique, stood in the doorway. His eyes scanned the room, settling on Jacqueline.

Part 17

“Jacqueline, I need to talk to you,” he said, his voice firm but not harsh. She felt her heart rate spike, and a familiar sense of dread crept over her. 'Fuck... what now?'

Enrique knew her secret—at least part of it. He knew her paperwork wasn’t exactly in order, but he let her keep working because she brought in good money even despite her strange behavior a few months ago and her refusal to take the job. He forgave her later and took her back. He leaned in close, speaking quietly enough so no one else could hear. “I got a call today. Your visa situation... it’s not looking good. If you don’t figure something out, you could be in big trouble.”

Jacqueline’s throat tightened. Visa situation? As if everything wasn’t already enough, now the looming threat of deportation was back on the table. “I—I understand,” she said, her voice shaky, trying to keep her emotions under control.

“You better,” Enrique said, pulling back. “And try not to be late again. This place doesn’t run on charity.”

When it was her turn to go on stage, Jacqueline felt her stomach knot, but she pushed through. The heavy beat of the music hit her as soon as she stepped into the spotlight, the heat of the stage lights bearing down on her as she swayed her hips. She moved automatically, her body knowing what to do even as her mind resisted every second. The crowd roared with approval as she leaned into her routine, swinging her hair, her body responding to the music like it had done a thousand times before.

But deep down, she hated this. Hated how natural it felt. The way her body flowed with the beat, the way men’s eyes followed her every move.

As the song came to an end, Jacqueline twirled and dropped into a final pose, earning loud cheers and applause from the men below. She forced a smile, waving to them as she strutted off the stage.

“Hey, Jacq!” one of the other dancers called, waving her over. “You got a request for a private dance.”

Jacqueline groaned inwardly. She was already exhausted from the confrontation with Marie-Claire. But a private dance meant more money, and right now, she needed every penny she could get. She plastered on another fake smile and made her way to the private rooms.

As she stepped inside, her heart froze for a moment. Sitting there, waiting for her, was a man who looked strangely familiar. She couldn’t quite place him, but something about his face, the way he was staring at her, sent a chill down her spine.

“Bonsoir,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “You requested ze dance?”

The man’s eyes flicked up to meet hers, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, with a slow, deliberate smile, he leaned back in his chair. “I remember when you used to look at me with those eyes and tell me you loved me, Jacqueline.”

“What... what are you talking about?” she stammered, taking a step back. The man’s smile only widened.

“Oh, come on, Jacqueline. You don’t remember me? I don't believe you, baby. After everything that happened between us..."