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She was 27 the day she accepted her first job in the realm of personal 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 ideal age, you see: old sufficient to consume, likely a university graduate (indicating some measure of intelligence and conversational ability), but still young, flexible, and desirable. Valuable to a wide range of tastes.
In other words? Rewarding.
Offering yourself was legal here, to reduce 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 end up being a product called Annika *, the name she gave to her new work personality.
This pseudonym didn’t just protect her on paper– it protected her sense of self. She might detach, dissociate, disappear. Annika would do all the work while she viewed from a safe distance, hoping each time she had actually brought out her dignity undamaged.
This was only short-lived, she informed herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and wished to achieve thereafter.
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 called. She pressed the door open to a long narrow corridor lit with strips of multicolour LED lights; floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined the right wall, closed doors lined the. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.
She did.
Later on, when asked what she imagined discovering there, she truthfully had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promo and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an immediate that hallway didn’t cause one.
Later, when asked why she stayed a full week once she knew what it was about, her reply came quickly:.
” For the money, of course.”.
Annika made over $7,500 in eight days. And she didn’t even have to fuck anybody.
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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 stated, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your lingerie is truly pretty.”.
She shivered under the blast of air conditioning, shivering in her four-inch heels, however possibly it was something else. “Thank you.”.
” So, let’s begin? Don’t stress, I’ll walk you through it.”.
In the middle of the space stood what looked like a run-of-the-mill massage table, upholstered in a cushioned black product, with a hole at one end. However this table (together with all the other ones here) had one peculiar difference: a second hole, right where one’s lower torso would line up.
” Grab a few of the oil. Warm it in between your hands. We’ll start with a back massage, great and easy.”.
He removed 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 might do this. She understood how to offer a back massage, no problem.
” Yeah, that’s great.” His voice came stifled from below after a number of minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach between my legs, don’t be shy. Gradually. Yes, easily …”.
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He stiffened to full mast at the very first brush of her fingertips.
” Oh, that’s best. I’m going to reverse now. You can massage my chest and keep playing with me.”.
She followed. She was good at following instructions. When he tapped her wrist, she stunned.
” 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 be afraid. Put some oil on your chest. Just move all over me, there you go. Oh, child, that’s so sexy …”.
Annika moved and winced, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses take over. There was one thing left to find out.
” You can do the reverse slide. Remove your panties and climb up back up here. Show me that lovely …” He needs to have seen the look on 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 slightly, her intimate parts on complete display screen.
” Oh, tasty,” he purred again. “It’s a lovely view, sweetie. Keep going.”.
Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel tasty; she had not wished to be. Rather, she felt ludicrous, uneasy, even traitorous. A plaything for men with non reusable income under the very finely veiled guise of “masseuse”.
However mostly, she felt contrasted. Due to the fact that she likewise recognized just how much power she held. This was a place where consumers spent for the opportunity of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a stranger, after all.
” That’s a good lady. Finish me off,” he gasped. Her hands handled a life of their own, moving faster.
He gripped her thighs and launched with one final 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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