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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first job in the realm of personal services, however they informed her she could and must pass for more youthful.

So, that week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the perfect age, you see: old enough to drink, likely a university graduate (showing some measure of intelligence and conversational ability), however still young, supple, and desirable. Marketable to a large range of tastes.

Simply put? Lucrative.

Offering yourself was legal here, to lower it to easy terms, although she didn’t realize that’s what she ‘d be doing the first day she strolled in. She didn’t understand she ‘d end up being a product called Annika *, the name she provided to her brand-new work persona.

This pseudonym didn’t only protect her on paper– it safeguarded her sense of self. She could remove, dissociate, disappear. Annika would do all the work while she saw from a safe distance, hoping each time she ‘d brought out her dignity undamaged.

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

On a cool September evening in Melbourne, Australia, not-yet-Annika pushed 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 sounded. 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 pictured 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 corridor didn’t cause one.

Later, when asked why she remained a complete week once she understood what it was about, her reply came easily:.

” For the cash, naturally.”.

Annika made over $7,500 in 8 days. And she didn’t even have to fuck anyone.

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Her first customer, 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 quite.”.

She shivered under the blast of air conditioning, shivering in her four-inch heels, but possibly it was something else. “Thank you.”.

” So, let’s start? Don’t fret, 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 (along with all the other ones here) had one peculiar distinction: a 2nd hole, right where one’s lower upper body would line up.

” Grab a few of the oil. Warm it in between your hands. We’ll begin with a back massage, easy and good.”.

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 provide a back massage, no problem.

” Yeah, that’s excellent.” His voice came smothered from listed below after several minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach in between my legs, do not be shy. Gradually. Yes, just like that …”.

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

” Oh, that’s perfect. 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 shocked when he tapped her wrist.

” I’m gon na have you do a body slide. Take off your bra … yes … oh, you look yummy. Simply move all over me, there you go.

Annika moved and writhed, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts 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 beautiful …” He should have seen the look on her face, because he added, “Don’t fret, I will not touch you there.”.

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

” Oh, tasty,” he purred again. “It’s a lovely view, sweetie. Keep going.”.

She didn’t feel tasty; she hadn’t wanted to be. Rather, she felt outrageous, uneasy, even traitorous.

Primarily, she felt clashed. Since she likewise understood how much power she held. This was a place where customers paid for the opportunity of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a stranger.

” That’s an excellent woman. Complete me off,” he gasped. Her hands took on a life of their own, moving 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 cash in her hand. It sufficed to persuade her to accept the next walk-in.