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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first task in the realm of individual services, however they informed her she might and need to pass for younger.

That week, she was 22 to anybody who asked. It was the perfect age, you see: old sufficient to consume, likely a university graduate (showing some measure of intelligence and conversational ability), however still young, flexible, and preferable. Valuable to a wide range of tastes.

In other words? Profitable.

Selling yourself was legal here, to minimize it to simple terms, although she didn’t recognize that’s what she ‘d be doing the very first day she walked in. She didn’t understand she ‘d end up being an item named Annika *, the name she provided to her new work personality.

This pseudonym didn’t only protect her on paper– it safeguarded her sense of self. She could separate, dissociate, disappear. Annika would do all the work while she watched from a safe distance, praying each time she had actually come out with her dignity undamaged.

This was only short-lived, she informed herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and wanted to accomplish thereafter.

On a cool September evening in Melbourne, Australia, not-yet-Annika pushed the call button beside an unmarked metal door. A female voice crackled through the speaker: “Hello.”.

” Hi, I’m here for the interview? From the Craigslist advertisement?”.

The buzzer sounded. She pressed the door available to a long narrow hallway lit with strips of multicolour LED lights; floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined the ideal wall, closed doors lined the left. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.

She did.

Later, when asked what she envisioned discovering there, she honestly had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promo and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an immediate that corridor didn’t lead to one.

Later, when asked why she remained a full week once she knew what it was about, her reply came easily:.

” For the cash, naturally.”.

Annika made over $7,500 in eight days. And she didn’t even need to fuck anyone.

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Her very first customer, a white male in his 40s, supplied some much-needed on-the-job training.

” You look good,” he said, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your underwear is truly quite.”.

She shivered under the blast of a/c, trembling in her four-inch heels, however perhaps it was something else. “Thank you.”.

” So, let’s start? Don’t fret, I’ll stroll you through it.”.

In the middle of the space stood what appeared like a run-of-the-mill massage table, upholstered in a cushioned black product, with a hole at one end. But this table (together with all the other ones here) had one strange difference: a second hole, right where one’s lower upper body would line up.

” Grab some of the oil. Warm it between your hands. We’ll start with a back massage, good and easy.”.

He eliminated his clothes, all of it, and laid face down on the table.

Annika placed her hands gingerly on his shoulders and took a deep breath. She could do this. She knew how to provide a back massage, no problem.

His voice came stifled from below after a number of minutes. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach between my legs, don’t be shy.

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He stiffened to full mast at the very first brush of her fingertips.

” Oh, that’s perfect. I’m going to turn around now. You can massage my chest and keep playing with me.”.

She followed. She was proficient at following directions. When he tapped her wrist, she stunned.

” I’m gon na have you do a body slide. Take off your bra … yes … oh, you look yummy. Just slide all over me, there you go.

Annika moved and squirmed, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take over. There was one thing left to find out.

” You can do the reverse slide. Take off your panties and climb back up here. Show me that stunning …” He should have seen the search her face, because he included, “Don’t stress, I won’t touch you there.”.

Dealing with towards his feet she straddled him and leaned forward just so, her back arched ever so slightly, her intimate parts on full display.

” Oh, tasty,” he purred again. “It’s a lovely view, sweetie. Keep going.”.

Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel yummy; she had not wanted to be. Instead, she felt ridiculous, self-conscious, even traitorous. A plaything for men with non reusable earnings under the very finely veiled guise of “masseuse”.

However mainly, she felt clashed. Since she likewise understood how much power she held. This was a place where clients spent for the advantage of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a complete stranger, after all.

” That’s a good woman. Complete me off,” he gasped. Her hands handled a life of their own, moving quicker.

He gripped her thighs and released with one last sigh. And it was over.

At the end of those 45 minutes, she had $110 money in her hand. It was enough to persuade her to accept the next walk-in.