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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 might and ought to pass for younger.
So, that week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old enough to consume, likely a university graduate (indicating some step of intelligence and conversational capability), but still young, flexible, and desirable. Valuable to a wide range of tastes.
In other words? Lucrative.
Offering yourself was legal here, to minimize it to simple terms, although she didn’t realize 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 new work personality.
This pseudonym didn’t only safeguard her on paper– it safeguarded her sense of self. She could detach, dissociate, disappear. Annika would do all the work while she watched from a safe distance, hoping each time she had actually come out with her self-respect undamaged.
This was just momentary, she told herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and wished 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 rang. She pushed the door available 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 truthfully had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promotion and modelling position; she ‘d known in an instant that corridor didn’t lead to one.
Later, when asked why she remained a full week once she knew what it had to do with, her reply came easily:.
” 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 very first consumer, a white male in his 40s, supplied some much-needed on-the-job training.
” You look good,” he said, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your underwear is truly quite.”.
She shivered under the blast of air conditioning, shivering in her four-inch heels, but perhaps it was something else. “Thank you.”.
” So, let’s start? Don’t stress, I’ll walk you through it.”.
In the middle of the room stood what looked like an ordinary massage table, upholstered in a cushioned black material, with a hole at one end. This table (along with all the other ones here) had one peculiar distinction: 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 begin with a back massage, simple and good.”.
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 might do this. She knew how to offer a back massage, no problem.
” Yeah, that’s great.” His voice came muffled from below after several minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach between my legs, do not be shy. Gradually. 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 complied with. 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 tasty. Get on the table, that’s it, do not be afraid. 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 moved and agonized, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses take control of. She currently knew how to drive a male insane. But there was something left to discover.
” You can do the reverse slide. Take off your panties and climb back up here. Show me that beautiful …” He needs to have seen the search her face, since he added, “Don’t worry, I won’t 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 display.
” Oh, delicious,” he purred once again. “It’s a beautiful view, sweetheart. Keep going.”.
She didn’t feel tasty; she hadn’t desired to be. Rather, she felt absurd, uncomfortable, even traitorous.
Mostly, she felt conflicted. Since she likewise realized just how much power she held. This was a place where customers spent for the advantage of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a complete stranger, after all.
” That’s an excellent woman. Finish me off,” he gasped. Her hands took on a life of their own, moving quicker.
He gripped her thighs and launched with one last sigh. And it was over.
At the end of those 45 minutes, she had $110 cash in her hand. It was enough to persuade her to accept the next walk-in.
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Bridgend, Wales (WA)