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She was 27 the day she accepted her first job in the world of personal services, however they informed her she could and should pass for younger.
So, that week, she was 22 to anybody who asked. It was the perfect age, you see: old sufficient to consume, likely a university graduate (showing some measure of intelligence and conversational ability), however still young, supple, and preferable. Valuable to a wide range of tastes.
To put it simply? Rewarding.
Offering yourself was legal here, to reduce it to basic terms, although she didn’t realize that’s what she ‘d be doing the very first day she walked in. She didn’t understand she ‘d end up being a product called Annika *, the name she offered to her new work persona.
This pseudonym didn’t just 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 range, praying each time she ‘d come out with her self-respect intact.
This was just short-lived, she told herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and intended to accomplish afterwards.
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 open to a long narrow corridor lit with strips of multicolour LED lights; floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined the right wall, closed doors lined the. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.
She did.
Later, when asked what she pictured discovering there, she truthfully had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promotion and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an instant that corridor didn’t result in one.
Later, when asked why she remained a complete week once she understood what it had to do with, her reply came quickly:.
” For the cash, obviously.”.
Annika made over $7,500 in eight 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 nice,” he stated, 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 maybe it was something else. “Thank you.”.
” So, let’s get started? Don’t worry, I’ll stroll 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. But this table (in addition to all the other ones here) had one strange difference: a second hole, right where one’s lower upper body would line up.
” Grab some of the oil. Warm it between your hands. We’ll begin with a back massage, nice and easy.”.
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 might do this. She knew how to offer a back massage, no problem.
His voice came muffled from listed below after numerous minutes. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach between my legs, don’t be shy.
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He stiffened to full mast at the really first brush of her fingertips.
” Oh, that’s ideal. I’m going to turn around now. You can massage my chest and keep playing with me.”.
She followed. She was proficient at following instructions. She stunned when he tapped her wrist.
” I’m gon na have you do a body slide. Remove your bra … yes … oh, you look delicious. Get on the table, that’s it, do not be afraid. Put some oil on your chest. Just move all over me, there you go. Oh, child, that’s so attractive …”.
Her mind was blank. Annika moved and winced, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses take over. She currently knew how to drive a male crazy. However there was one thing left to find out.
” You can do the reverse slide. Take off your panties and climb back up here. Program me that beautiful …” He should have seen the look on her face, because he included, “Don’t stress, I won’t touch you there.”.
Facing toward his feet she straddled him and leaned forward so, her back arched ever so somewhat, her intimate parts on complete screen.
” Oh, yummy,” he purred once again. “It’s a beautiful view, sweetheart. Keep going.”.
Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel delicious; she had not wished to be. Instead, she felt absurd, self-conscious, even traitorous. A plaything for men with non reusable earnings under the very finely veiled guise of “masseuse”.
However primarily, she felt clashed. Since she also recognized just how much power she held. This was a place where customers paid for the benefit of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a stranger.
” That’s a great lady. Finish me off,” he gasped. Her hands handled 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 convince her to accept the next walk-in.
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Buckinghamshire, England (EN)