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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 ought to pass for more youthful.
That week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the perfect age, you see: old adequate to consume, likely a university graduate (showing some measure of intelligence and conversational ability), however still young, flexible, and preferable. Valuable to a wide variety of tastes.
In other words? Successful.
Selling yourself was legal here, to lower 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 end up being a product called Annika *, the name she provided to her brand-new work personality.
This pseudonym didn’t just secure her on paper– it secured her sense of self. She could detach, dissociate, disappear. Annika would do all the work while she viewed from a safe distance, hoping each time she had actually brought out her self-respect undamaged.
This was just momentary, she informed herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and wished to accomplish thereafter.
On a cool September night in Melbourne, Australia, not-yet-Annika pushed 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 sounded. She pressed the door open up 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, when asked what she envisioned discovering there, she truthfully had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promo and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an immediate that hallway 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 easily:.
” For the cash, obviously.”.
Annika made over $7,500 in 8 days. And she didn’t even need 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 good,” he said, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your lingerie is actually quite.”.
She shivered under the blast of a/c, shivering in her four-inch heels, however possibly it was something else. “Thank you.”.
” So, let’s begin? Don’t fret, I’ll stroll you through it.”.
In the middle of the space stood what appeared like an ordinary massage table, upholstered in a cushioned black product, with a hole at one end. This table (along with all the other ones here) had one peculiar distinction: a 2nd hole, right where one’s lower upper body would line up.
” Grab some of the oil. Warm it between your hands. We’ll start with a back massage, great and easy.”.
He eliminated his clothing, 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 give a back massage, no problem.
” Yeah, that’s good.” His voice came muffled from below after several minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach in 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 obeyed. 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 tasty. Get on the table, that’s it, don’t hesitate. Put some oil on your chest. Simply move all over me, there you go. Oh, child, that’s so hot …”.
Annika twisted and moved, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses take over. There was one thing left to discover.
” You can do the reverse slide. Remove your panties and climb up back up here. Show me that lovely …” He needs to have seen the look on her face, since he included, “Don’t worry, I will not touch you there.”.
Dealing with towards his feet she straddled him and leaned forward just so, her back arched ever so a little, her intimate parts on full display screen.
” Oh, delicious,” he purred once again. “It’s a lovely view, sweetheart. Keep going.”.
She didn’t feel tasty; she hadn’t desired to be. Rather, she felt ridiculous, self-conscious, even traitorous.
Primarily, she felt clashed. Because she also recognized how much power she held. This was a place where customers paid for the privilege of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a complete stranger.
” That’s a good woman. Finish me off,” he gasped. Her hands took on a life of their own, moving 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 was enough to encourage her to accept the next walk-in.
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