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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 more youthful.
That week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old enough to drink, likely a university graduate (indicating some measure of intelligence and conversational capability), but still young, supple, and preferable. Valuable to a wide variety of tastes.
Simply put? Rewarding.
Offering yourself was legal here, to reduce it to basic terms, although she didn’t understand that’s what she ‘d be doing the first day she walked in. She didn’t know she ‘d end up being a product named Annika *, the name she offered to her brand-new work persona.
This pseudonym didn’t only safeguard her on paper– it secured her sense of self. She might detach, dissociate, disappear. Annika would do all the work while she watched from a safe range, hoping each time she had actually come out with her self-respect undamaged.
This was only short-lived, she informed herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and wanted to achieve afterwards.
On a cool September evening 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 ad?”.
The buzzer rang. She pushed the door open to a long narrow hallway lit with strips of multicolour LED lights; floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined the ideal wall, closed doors lined the. “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 known in an immediate that hallway 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 quickly:.
” For the cash, of course.”.
Annika made over $7,500 in eight days. And she didn’t even need to fuck anyone.
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Her very 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 lingerie 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 start? Do not stress, I’ll walk you through it.”.
In the middle of the space stood what appeared like a run-of-the-mill massage table, upholstered in a cushioned black material, with a hole at one end. However this table (together 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 start with a back massage, good and simple.”.
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 could do this. She knew how to give a back massage, no problem.
” Yeah, that’s great.” His voice came smothered from listed below after numerous minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach between my legs, don’t be shy. Slowly. Yes, just like that …”.
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He stiffened to complete mast at the really first brush of her fingertips.
” Oh, that’s perfect. I’m going to reverse now. You can massage my chest and keep playing with me.”.
She obeyed. She was proficient at following directions. When he tapped her wrist, she startled.
” I’m gon na have you do a body slide. Take off your bra … yes … oh, you look tasty. Just slide all over me, there you go.
Her mind was blank. Annika twisted and moved, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take control of. She already understood how to drive a male crazy. There was one thing left to find out.
” You can do the reverse slide. Take off your panties and climb back up here. Show me that stunning …” He must have seen the look on her face, because he included, “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 a little, her intimate parts on full display.
” Oh, delicious,” he purred once again. “It’s a gorgeous view, sweetheart. Keep going.”.
She didn’t feel tasty; she hadn’t wanted to be. Instead, she felt ridiculous, uncomfortable, even traitorous.
But primarily, she felt clashed. Because she likewise understood just how much power she held. This was a place where consumers paid for the benefit of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a complete stranger.
” That’s a great lady. Complete me off,” he gasped. Her hands took on a life of their own, moving faster.
He gripped her thighs and released 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.
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