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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first job in the realm 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 consume, likely a university graduate (showing some step of intelligence and conversational ability), but still young, flexible, and preferable. Marketable to a vast array of tastes.

In other words? Rewarding.

Offering yourself was legal here, to lower it to simple terms, although she didn’t realize that’s what she ‘d be doing the first day she strolled in. She didn’t understand she ‘d end up being a product named Annika *, the name she offered to her brand-new work persona.

This pseudonym didn’t just safeguard her on paper– it safeguarded her sense of self. She might separate, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she viewed from a safe distance, hoping each time she ‘d brought out her dignity intact.

This was just momentary, she told herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and intended to accomplish afterwards.

On a cool September night in Melbourne, Australia, not-yet-Annika pressed 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 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 pictured finding there, she truthfully had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promo and modelling position; she ‘d known in an immediate that corridor didn’t result in one.

Later on, when asked why she remained a full week once she knew what it was about, her reply came easily:.

” 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 client, a white male in his 40s, provided some much-needed on-the-job training.

” You look nice,” he said, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your underwear is really pretty.”.

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

” So, let’s get started? Don’t worry, I’ll walk 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. But this table (in addition to all the other ones here) had one peculiar distinction: 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 begin with a back massage, great and simple.”.

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

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

” Yeah, that’s great.” His voice came smothered from listed below after a number of minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and go up to my ass. Reach between my legs, don’t be shy. Gradually. Yes, just like that …”.

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

” Oh, that’s perfect. I’m going to reverse now. You can massage my chest and keep having fun with me.”.

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

” I’m gon na have you do a body slide. Take off your bra … yes … oh, you look delicious. Get on the table, that’s it, don’t hesitate. Put some oil on your chest. Just slide all over me, there you go. Oh, baby, that’s so attractive …”.

Her mind was blank. Annika slid and twisted, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take over. She already understood how to drive a guy crazy. There was one thing left to learn.

” You can do the reverse slide. Remove your panties and climb back up here. Program me that gorgeous …” He should have seen the look on her face, due to the fact that he included, “Don’t fret, I will not touch you there.”.

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

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

Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel tasty; she hadn’t wished to be. Rather, she felt outrageous, uneasy, even traitorous. A toy for men with disposable earnings under the thinly veiled guise of “masseuse”.

Mainly, she felt clashed. Because she likewise realized just how much power she held. This was a place where clients paid for the opportunity 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 quicker.

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 was enough to encourage her to accept the next walk-in.