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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first task in the world of personal services, however they told her she might and should pass for more youthful.

That week, she was 22 to anybody who asked. It was the perfect age, you see: old adequate to consume, likely a university graduate (suggesting some step of intelligence and conversational ability), but still young, supple, and desirable. Marketable to a large range of tastes.

In other words? Successful.

Offering yourself was legal here, to decrease it to simple terms, although she didn’t understand that’s what she ‘d be doing the very first day she walked in. She didn’t know she ‘d become a product called Annika *, the name she offered to her brand-new work persona.

This pseudonym didn’t just secure her on paper– it protected her sense of self. She might remove, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she saw from a safe range, praying each time she ‘d brought out her dignity undamaged.

This was only temporary, she told herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and wished to accomplish thereafter.

On a cool September night in Melbourne, Australia, not-yet-Annika pressed 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 sounded. She pushed the door open to a long narrow corridor 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 on, when asked what she pictured discovering there, she truthfully had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promo and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an instant that corridor didn’t cause one.

Later on, when asked why she stayed a full week once she understood what it was about, her reply came quickly:.

” For the cash, of course.”.

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

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Her 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 truly quite.”.

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

” So, let’s get going? Do not stress, I’ll walk you through it.”.

In the middle of the space stood what looked like an ordinary massage table, upholstered in a cushioned black material, 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 a few of the oil. Warm it between your hands. We’ll start with a back massage, simple and nice.”.

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 knew how to give a back massage, no problem.

His voice came smothered from below after numerous minutes. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach in between my legs, don’t be shy.

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He stiffened to full mast at the extremely 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 complied with. She was proficient at following directions. When he tapped her wrist, she stunned.

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

Her mind was blank. Annika slid and squirmed, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take control of. She already understood how to drive a male crazy. But there was something left to find out.

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

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

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

Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel delicious; she hadn’t wanted to be. Instead, she felt ludicrous, uncomfortable, even traitorous. A plaything for guys with non reusable income under the thinly veiled guise of “masseuse”.

Primarily, she felt clashed. Because she also understood how much power she held. This was a location where customers spent for the advantage of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a stranger, after all.

” That’s a good girl. Finish me off,” he gasped. Her hands handled a life of their own, moving quicker.

He grasped 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.