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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first job in the world of personal services, but they told her she could and need to pass for younger.

That week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the perfect age, you see: old sufficient to drink, likely a university graduate (showing some procedure of intelligence and conversational ability), but still young, flexible, and preferable. Marketable to a wide range of tastes.

To put it simply? 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 very first day she walked in. She didn’t know she ‘d end up being a product named Annika *, the name she provided to her brand-new work persona.

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

This was just temporary, she informed herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and hoped to achieve afterwards.

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 advertisement?”.

The buzzer called. She pressed the door available to a long narrow hallway 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 imagined discovering there, she truthfully had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promotion and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an immediate that hallway didn’t result in one.

Later on, when asked why she stayed a full week once she understood 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 anybody.

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

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

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

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

In the middle of the space stood what appeared 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 strange difference: a second hole, right where one’s lower upper body would line up.

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

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 provide a back massage, no problem.

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

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

” Oh, that’s best. I’m going to turn around now. You can massage my chest and keep having fun with me.”.

She obeyed. She was proficient at following instructions. When he tapped her wrist, she surprised.

” 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. Simply slide all over me, there you go. Oh, child, that’s so sexy …”.

Annika slid and squirmed, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take over. There was one thing left to learn.

” You can do the reverse slide. Take off your panties and climb back up here. Show me that gorgeous …” He must have seen the look on her face, because he included, “Don’t fret, I won’t touch you there.”.

Dealing with towards his feet she straddled him and leaned forward so, her back arched ever so slightly, her intimate parts on complete display.

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

Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel tasty; she had not wanted to be. Rather, she felt absurd, awkward, even traitorous. A plaything for guys with non reusable earnings under the thinly veiled guise of “masseuse”.

However primarily, she felt clashed. Since she likewise understood just how much power she held. This was a location where customers paid for the advantage of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a complete stranger.

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

He grasped her thighs and released with one last sigh. And it was over.

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