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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first task in the world of personal services, however they informed her she could and must pass for younger.

So, that week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the perfect age, you see: old adequate to consume, likely a university graduate (showing some step of intelligence and conversational capability), but still young, flexible, and preferable. Valuable to a large range of tastes.

Simply put? Profitable.

Offering yourself was legal here, to decrease it to simple terms, although she didn’t realize that’s what she ‘d be doing the first day she walked in. She didn’t understand she ‘d end up being a product named Annika *, the name she gave to her new work persona.

This pseudonym didn’t only secure her on paper– it secured her sense of self. She could remove, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she enjoyed from a safe range, praying each time she had actually come out with her self-respect undamaged.

This was only temporary, she told herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and hoped to achieve thereafter.

On a cool September evening 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 ad?”.

The buzzer rang. She pushed the door available to a long narrow corridor 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 thought of finding there, she honestly had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promotion and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an instant that hallway didn’t lead to one.

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

” For the cash, obviously.”.

Annika made over $7,500 in 8 days. And she didn’t even need 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 nice,” he stated, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your underwear is actually pretty.”.

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

” So, let’s get started? Don’t fret, I’ll walk you through it.”.

In the middle of the room stood what looked like a run-of-the-mill massage table, upholstered in a cushioned black material, with a hole at one end. But this table (in addition to all the other ones here) had one peculiar difference: a 2nd hole, right where one’s lower torso would line up.

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

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

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

His voice came smothered from listed below after several 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 complete 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 having fun with me.”.

She followed. She was good at following instructions. She stunned when he tapped her wrist.

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

Her mind was blank. Annika slid and winced, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses take control of. She already understood how to drive a male crazy. There was one thing left to discover.

” You can do the reverse slide. Remove your panties and climb up back up here. Show me that gorgeous …” He should have seen the look on her face, since he included, “Don’t stress, I will not touch you there.”.

Dealing with toward his feet she straddled him and leaned forward just so, her back arched ever so a little, her intimate parts on complete display.

” Oh, delicious,” he purred once again. “It’s a stunning view, sweetheart. Keep going.”.

She didn’t feel delicious; she hadn’t wanted to be. Instead, she felt ridiculous, uncomfortable, even traitorous.

Mainly, she felt conflicted. Since she also realized just how much power she held. This was a place where clients paid for the privilege of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a stranger.

” That’s a good lady. Complete me off,” he gasped. Her hands took on a life of their own, moving much faster.

He grasped 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.