My customer liked this story so much that, at her insistence, I am writing a sequel.

***

How nice that I found him - my old diary. During this time, so much has happened, that I don’t even know now where to start.

I'll start with the main thing. I live with my beloved husband Tom in the Soviet Union. Already a year and a half. Incredibly, we did it all. We are not caught. And they let in the Union, and we received citizenship, and now we have passports in Russian.

Tom calls me Lucky. He says that he has never been so lucky as with me. I myself am surprised, although I think that this is all his amazing spyware skills.

Living in the USSR is strange and funny. Russians all believe in their god Lenin. They are like children who need to invent a fairy tale - that a broom, for example, is a witch’s broom, and to remove toys is to save those affected by an earthquake. Then their eyes will light up and they will do whatever they say. So the government comes up with fairy tales for them to work for and enjoy. So you can not pay money for the work, because it is no longer work, but as a game. They call it “building communism”. With money, by the way, it’s bad here - everyone is poor and there are no products even in stores.

But the Russians are very kind and gullible. They are like children here. It’s considered indecent to talk about money because it’s like one family. Government is like parents. They decide for the children what is good for them, what is bad, and, in general, how to live. And children, though sometimes mischievous, but they feel under guardianship. There is no trace of freedom in the USSR either, because the whole USSR is such a big nursery. And the parents will give orders, they will give orders, they will throw the children a fairy tale - and they will leave to do their adult things behind their backs.

I am adored here. America and Americans are not very fond of, but they are ready to carry me on their hands. Everyone forgives me, even these ridiculous fabulous objects — diamat, istmat and others. Without them, you will not get a diploma and work, but apart from English I don’t know anything useful and can’t.

We live in Voronezh, in a tiny apartment of two rooms. My husband works at a local hospital, and I study by correspondence at the pedagogical institute in order to later teach children English. This year, I will pass everything externally and I can work.

I learned Russian in a couple of months. I do not know how it happened to me, but when I heard a new word - I immediately remembered it forever. Now I speak almost like Tom, and he speaks Russian perfectly, I do not even distinguish his reprimand from the local one. He was terribly surprised and said that I had a unique talent for languages. Probably, the point is simply that I really wanted to quickly understand these lovely people who were staring at me with their mouths open.

Husband came. I'll go feed him. When I learned to be a girl, I studied and cook, and it also worked for me as if I had been a cook all my life. It is customary for the wife to cook for her husband, and I like it. I really like it here, even though we live in poverty.

It seems I'm happy.

***

And being a girl, a wife I also really like.

It's night now. At bedtime, we exhausted each other thoroughly in bed, and Tom sleeps soundly after this race. And I woke up and write in the kitchen. We have a tiny kitchen, like a wardrobe.

Now I will write what I was embarrassed to write in the afternoon. Why shy - I do not know. Daylight. Silly, of course.

So: I like being a girl. It's very, very cool to be Jackie.

But still I did not stop being Jack.

And here, in my diary, I'll spend a little while on it. At night, while no one sees.

I thought for a long time and decided that I have not one soul, but two - male and female. Once the male was the main one, and the female was hiding somewhere very deeply and only looked out in a dream. And then the female became the main ... although not. They just manage different things.

Female controls my body.I move like a girl, I love a man and I want him to caress and impregnate me, and I am happy when he does it. I know that I am beautiful, and I am pleased that I admire. And the emotions in me appeared completely new, which were not there before.

And the masculine, as before, controls my brain, my “I”, because this “I” grew up as a Jack and can never be anyone else. I still think about myself as about Jack. In Russian, all words are masculine and feminine, and I always want to say to myself “I did”, “I said” ...

I am like a guy disguised as a girl, not only in clothes, but also in a woman’s body. I adore my face, hair, boobs, but adore as a guy. I'm still a little shy of myself. I am embarrassed about cosmetics, I am embarrassed when I go to make up, but at the same time I am proud to be admired by me, and I admire myself too, only from the inside ...

And I love to look in the mirror, especially naked.

Tom has mirrored the whole room, and when we do this, I look there and see how he is full of naked curls there, and how her tits hang out here and there, and how she writhes, and I go crazy - not just Jackie but also like jack ...

Split personality?

Damn dad.

***

One more thing. I hesitate to think about it, not what to write.

But...

I have girlfriends here. It's so strange to be a girl and have girlfriends. They are just wonderful - they adore me, tell me secrets, embrace, kiss, play with me as with a doll, love to paint my face and make hairstyles ...

And sometimes I go crazy.

ME STILL LIKE GIRLS.

***

It was today. I do not know what it was and why, but I will write it down.

Today, a woman at the institute saw me and complained:

- My God, what is it? What is this miracle? Where are we from?

At first, I did not even understand what she needed. Her face was as if God had appeared to her, although the Russians do not believe in any gods, except for their Lenin.

And only then it dawned on me that it was because of my beauty.

And she herself is very beautiful, I was even pricked somewhere inside. Much older than me, and all so ... perfect, like in old pictures. High, proud. Probably, only Russians have such beauty, as if they were descendants of the emperor who was killed ...

In general, we met. She works here for some position, I do not remember. I do not remember anything at all, except for her insinuating hands and eyes, which envelop you like golden rays. Her hair is golden and her eyes too. Her name is Natasha, like the heroine of Tolstoy. But she is older and not at all like her.

Yes, and she is an artist. She wants to draw me.

We saw together Tom. God, how ashamed I am, even though I understand - stupid, stupid, stupid to death ...

***

Passed the history of the party! The grandfather professor burst into tears. I never thought he said that the best answer in my life I would hear from an American. And I felt so sorry for him. After all, he believes in everything that I have told.

Tom all praises my abilities. Strange, but dad shouted that I was stupid tupar. And I do not remember that something was easy for me. He just put me down, I guess.

And Tom sometimes asks if I have any new unusual sensations. This is because he says that I am still a unique case, and he is a little worried about me.

Today asked:

- And when everything is easy for you - don't you feel anything unusual?

Strange some question. I did not know what to say to him, and honestly said no.

Funny he is. And it’s not at all easy for me.

***

Oh my god oh my god

Natasha will come to me. Will draw me.

She said that it is better with us - so I will be less shy. And when I heard it - “I will come to your house” - I don’t know why, but my body chills. Home... Why does it bother me so much?

Tom doesn't know. He has night duty, and I did not tell him. I could not.

Although something like this - a friend just comes to me. Why should he talk?

God help me.

***