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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first task in the world of personal services, but they informed her she might and must pass for more youthful.

That week, she was 22 to anybody who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old adequate to consume, likely a university graduate (suggesting some measure of intelligence and conversational capability), however still young, supple, and desirable. Marketable to a wide range of tastes.

To put it simply? Profitable.

Offering yourself was legal here, to reduce it to easy terms, although she didn’t realize that’s what she ‘d be doing the very first day she strolled in. She didn’t understand she ‘d become an item named Annika *, the name she provided to her brand-new work persona.

This pseudonym didn’t just secure her on paper– it secured her sense of self. She might remove, dissociate, disappear. Annika would do all the work while she viewed from a safe distance, praying each time she ‘d brought out her dignity undamaged.

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

On a cool September night 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 pushed the door open up to a long narrow corridor lit with strips of multicolour LED lights; floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined the right wall, closed doors lined the left. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.

She did.

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

” For the money, naturally.”.

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

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

” You look good,” he stated, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your underwear is actually pretty.”.

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

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

In the middle of the room stood what appeared like an ordinary massage table, upholstered in a cushioned black product, with a hole at one end. This table (along with all the other ones here) had one strange 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 begin with a back massage, simple and nice.”.

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

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

” Yeah, that’s good.” 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, do not be shy. Slowly. Yes, easily …”.

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He stiffened to complete mast at the really first brush of her fingertips.

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

She obeyed. She was good at following directions. She surprised when he tapped her wrist.

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

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 guy crazy. However there was something left to learn.

” You can do the reverse slide. Remove your panties and climb up back up here. Program me that gorgeous …” He must have seen the search her face, since he added, “Don’t fret, I will not touch you there.”.

Facing towards his feet she straddled him and leaned forward just so, her back arched ever so a little, her intimate parts on full screen.

” Oh, yummy,” he purred once again. “It’s a beautiful view, sweetie. Keep going.”.

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

Mainly, she felt contrasted. Due to the fact that she also recognized just how much power she held. This was a location where consumers paid for the advantage 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 gripped her thighs and launched with one final sigh. And it was over.

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