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

That week, she was 22 to anybody who asked. It was the perfect age, you see: old enough to drink, likely a university graduate (suggesting some measure of intelligence and conversational ability), but still young, supple, and preferable. Marketable to a vast array of tastes.

To put it simply? Rewarding.

Offering yourself was legal here, to reduce 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 know she ‘d become an item named Annika *, the name she provided to her brand-new work persona.

This pseudonym didn’t just safeguard her on paper– it safeguarded her sense of self. She could remove, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she viewed from a safe range, praying each time she ‘d come out with her self-respect intact.

This was just temporary, she told herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and hoped 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 ad?”.

The buzzer sounded. She pressed the door open 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 on, when asked what she pictured finding there, she truthfully had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promotion and modelling position; she ‘d known in an immediate that hallway didn’t result in one.

Later on, when asked why she stayed a complete 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 very first customer, a white male in his 40s, provided some much-needed on-the-job training.

” You look great,” he said, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your underwear is actually quite.”.

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

” So, let’s get going? Don’t worry, I’ll stroll you through it.”.

In the middle of the room stood what appeared like a run-of-the-mill 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 distinction: a 2nd hole, right where one’s lower torso would line up.

” Grab some of the oil. Warm it in between your hands. We’ll start with a back massage, easy and great.”.

He eliminated his clothes, all of it, and laid face down on the table.

Annika placed her hands gingerly on his shoulders and took a deep breath. She could do this. She knew how to offer a back massage, no problem.

” Yeah, that’s good.” His voice came muffled from listed below after several minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and go up to my ass. Reach between my legs, do not be shy. Slowly. Yes, easily …”.

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

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

She complied with. She was proficient at following directions. She shocked when he tapped her wrist.

” I’m gon na have you do a body slide. Remove your bra … yes … oh, you look tasty. Get on the table, that’s it, do not hesitate. Put some oil on your chest. Simply slide all over me, there you go. Oh, child, that’s so attractive …”.

Annika twisted and moved, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses take over. There was one thing left to learn.

” You can do the reverse slide. Remove your panties and climb back up here. Program me that beautiful …” He should have seen the search her face, because he included, “Don’t worry, I will not touch you there.”.

Facing toward his feet she straddled him and leaned forward just so, her back arched ever so somewhat, her intimate parts on full display screen.

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

She didn’t feel delicious; she hadn’t wanted to be. Rather, she felt ludicrous, self-conscious, even traitorous.

Mainly, she felt clashed. Because she likewise recognized just how much power she held. This was a place where consumers paid for the privilege of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a stranger, after all.

” That’s a great woman. 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 final sigh. And it was over.

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