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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first job in the world of personal services, however they informed her she might and need to pass for more youthful.
So, that week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the perfect age, you see: old sufficient to consume, likely a university graduate (indicating some measure of intelligence and conversational ability), but still young, supple, and desirable. Valuable to a large range of tastes.
In other words? Lucrative.
Offering yourself was legal here, to minimize it to simple terms, although she didn’t recognize that’s what she ‘d be doing the first day she strolled in. She didn’t know she ‘d become a product named Annika *, the name she gave to her brand-new work personality.
This pseudonym didn’t only safeguard her on paper– it secured her sense of self. She might detach, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she watched from a safe distance, praying each time she ‘d come out with her self-respect undamaged.
This was only momentary, she informed herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and wished to achieve thereafter.
On a cool September night in Melbourne, Australia, not-yet-Annika pressed 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 rang. She pushed the door open up to a long narrow hallway lit with strips of multicolour LED lights; floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined the best wall, closed doors lined the left. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.
She did.
Later, when asked what she thought of discovering there, she honestly had no response. She ‘d come in for a club promo and modelling position; she ‘d known in an instant that hallway didn’t result in one.
Later, when asked why she stayed a complete week once she knew what it had to do with, her reply came easily:.
” For the money, of course.”.
Annika made over $7,500 in 8 days. And she didn’t even have to fuck anyone.
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Her first client, a white male in his 40s, offered some much-needed on-the-job training.
” You look great,” he said, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your underwear is actually pretty.”.
She shivered under the blast of cooling, shivering in her four-inch heels, but possibly 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 a run-of-the-mill massage table, upholstered in a cushioned black product, with a hole at one end. But this table (along with all the other ones here) had one peculiar difference: a 2nd hole, right where one’s lower torso would line up.
” Grab a few of the oil. Warm it between your hands. We’ll begin with a back massage, great and simple.”.
He removed his clothing, 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.
” Yeah, that’s good.” His voice came smothered from below after numerous minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach between my legs, do not be shy. Gradually. Yes, just like that …”.
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He stiffened to full mast at the very first brush of her fingertips.
” Oh, that’s ideal. I’m going to turn around now. You can massage my chest and keep playing with me.”.
She complied with. She was good at following instructions. When he tapped her wrist, she shocked.
” I’m gon na have you do a body slide. Remove your bra … yes … oh, you look delicious. Get on the table, that’s it, don’t hesitate. Put some oil on your chest. Simply slide all over me, there you go. Oh, baby, that’s so hot …”.
Annika slid and winced, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take over. There was one thing left to learn.
” You can do the reverse slide. Remove your panties and climb up back up here. Program me that beautiful …” He should have seen the search her face, due to the fact that he included, “Don’t fret, I won’t touch you there.”.
Dealing with toward his feet she straddled him and leaned forward so, her back arched ever so a little, her intimate parts on complete display screen.
” Oh, delicious,” he purred once again. “It’s a stunning view, sweetie. Keep going.”.
Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel delicious; she had not wished to be. Instead, she felt ridiculous, uncomfortable, even traitorous. A plaything for guys with non reusable income under the very finely veiled guise of “masseuse”.
But mostly, she felt contrasted. Due to the fact that she likewise realized how much power she held. This was a location where customers paid for the opportunity of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a complete 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 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.
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Angus, Scotland (SC)