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She was 27 the day she accepted her first task in the realm of personal services, however they informed her she might and must pass for younger.

So, that week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old sufficient to drink, likely a university graduate (showing some measure of intelligence and conversational ability), but still young, flexible, and preferable. Marketable to a vast array of tastes.

To put it simply? Successful.

Selling yourself was legal here, to lower it to simple terms, although she didn’t understand that’s what she ‘d be doing the first day she strolled in. She didn’t understand she ‘d become a product called Annika *, the name she provided to her brand-new work personality.

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

This was only short-term, she informed herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and intended to accomplish thereafter.

On a cool September evening 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 ad?”.

The buzzer sounded. She pressed the door available to a long narrow corridor lit with strips of multicolour LED lights; floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined the right wall, closed doors lined the left. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.

She did.

Later, when asked what she imagined discovering there, she honestly had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promotion and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an immediate that corridor didn’t cause one.

Later on, when asked why she stayed a complete week once she understood what it had to do with, her reply came easily:.

” For the money, obviously.”.

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

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Her very first consumer, a white male in his 40s, offered some much-needed on-the-job training.

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

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

” So, let’s start? Don’t stress, I’ll walk you through it.”.

In the middle of the space 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 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 begin with a back massage, good 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 could do this. She understood how to provide a back massage, no problem.

” Yeah, that’s good.” His voice came smothered from listed 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. Gradually. Yes, just like that …”.

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

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

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

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

Her mind was blank. Annika wriggled and moved, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take over. She already understood how to drive a man crazy. However there was something delegated learn.

” You can do the reverse slide. Remove your panties and climb up back up here. Show me that stunning …” He must have seen the search her face, due to the fact that he added, “Don’t fret, 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 complete display screen.

” Oh, tasty,” he purred 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 ludicrous, awkward, even traitorous. A toy for males with disposable earnings under the thinly veiled guise of “masseuse”.

But mainly, she felt conflicted. Since she also realized how much power she held. This was a location where clients paid for the privilege of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a stranger, after all.

” That’s a great girl. Complete me off,” he gasped. Her hands took on a life of their own, moving much faster.

He grasped 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.