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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first task in the realm of personal services, but they told her she could and should pass for more youthful.

So, that week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old adequate to drink, likely a university graduate (indicating some procedure of intelligence and conversational ability), however still young, flexible, and desirable. Marketable to a wide range of tastes.

In other words? Lucrative.

Selling yourself was legal here, to decrease it to simple terms, although she didn’t understand that’s what she ‘d be doing the first day she strolled in. She didn’t know she ‘d become an item named Annika *, the name she provided to her new work persona.

This pseudonym didn’t only protect her on paper– it protected her sense of self. She could separate, dissociate, disappear. Annika would do all the work while she saw from a safe range, praying each time she ‘d brought out her self-respect intact.

This was only temporary, she told herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and wished to achieve afterwards.

On a cool September evening in Melbourne, Australia, not-yet-Annika pushed the call button next to 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 rang. She pressed the door open to a long narrow hallway lit with strips of multicolour LED lights; floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined the ideal wall, closed doors lined the. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.

She did.

Later, when asked what she envisioned finding there, she honestly had no response. She ‘d come in for a club promo and modelling position; she ‘d known in an immediate that hallway didn’t result in one.

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

” For the cash, of course.”.

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

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

” You look nice,” he said, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your lingerie is actually quite.”.

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

” So, let’s get started? Do not worry, I’ll walk you through it.”.

In the middle of the space stood what appeared like an ordinary massage table, upholstered in a cushioned black product, with a hole at one end. However this table (in addition to all the other ones here) had one peculiar distinction: a second hole, right where one’s lower torso would line up.

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

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 understood how to offer a back massage, no problem.

His voice came muffled from below after a number of minutes. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach between my legs, do not be shy.

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

” Oh, that’s perfect. I’m going to reverse now. You can massage my chest and keep having fun with me.”.

She obeyed. She was good at following instructions. When he tapped her wrist, she startled.

” I’m gon na have you do a body slide. Remove your bra … yes … oh, you look tasty. Get on the table, that’s it, do not hesitate. Put some oil on your chest. Just move all over me, there you go. Oh, baby, that’s so attractive …”.

Her mind was blank. Annika twisted and moved, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses take control of. She already knew how to drive a male insane. But there was one thing left to discover.

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

Facing toward his feet she straddled him and leaned forward just so, her back arched ever so somewhat, her intimate parts on full display screen.

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

Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel delicious; she hadn’t wished to be. Instead, she felt ridiculous, uneasy, even traitorous. A toy for males with disposable income under the very finely veiled guise of “masseuse”.

Primarily, she felt contrasted. Since she likewise recognized how much power she held. This was a location where clients spent for the opportunity of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a stranger, after all.

” That’s a great woman. Finish me off,” he gasped. Her hands handled a life of their own, moving much faster.

He grasped her thighs and launched 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 encourage her to accept the next walk-in.