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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first task in the world of personal services, but they told her she might and must pass for younger.
That week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old enough to consume, likely a university graduate (suggesting some step of intelligence and conversational capability), but still young, supple, and preferable. Valuable to a vast array of tastes.
To put it simply? Lucrative.
Selling yourself was legal here, to minimize it to easy terms, although she didn’t recognize that’s what she ‘d be doing the very first day she strolled in. She didn’t understand she ‘d become an item named Annika *, the name she gave to her brand-new work persona.
This pseudonym didn’t just protect 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 range, praying each time she had actually come out with her dignity undamaged.
This was only short-term, she informed herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and wished to achieve thereafter.
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 rang. She pushed the door open to a long narrow corridor lit with strips of multicolour LED lights; floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined the best wall, closed doors lined the. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.
She did.
Later on, when asked what she thought of finding there, she truthfully had no response. She ‘d come in for a club promo and modelling position; she ‘d known in an instant that hallway didn’t cause one.
Later, when asked why she remained a complete week once she understood what it had to do with, her reply came quickly:.
” 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 first client, a white male in his 40s, offered some much-needed on-the-job training.
” You look great,” he said, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your underwear is really pretty.”.
She shivered under the blast of a/c, shivering in her four-inch heels, but maybe it was something else. “Thank you.”.
” So, let’s start? Do not worry, I’ll walk you through it.”.
In the middle of the space stood what looked like a run-of-the-mill massage table, upholstered in a cushioned black product, with a hole at one end. But this table (along with all the other ones here) had one strange 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, simple and good.”.
He eliminated 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 understood how to offer a back massage, no problem.
His voice came smothered from listed 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 complete mast at the extremely first brush of her fingertips.
” Oh, that’s ideal. I’m going to reverse now. You can massage my chest and keep having fun with me.”.
She obeyed. She was proficient at following instructions. 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. Simply move all over me, there you go.
Her mind was blank. Annika slid and writhed, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses take over. She currently knew how to drive a man insane. There was one thing left to learn.
” You can do the reverse slide. Take off your panties and climb back up here. Program me that stunning …” He needs to have seen the search her face, due to the fact that he added, “Don’t stress, I won’t touch you there.”.
Facing towards his feet she straddled him and leaned forward so, her back arched ever so a little, her intimate parts on complete display.
” Oh, tasty,” he purred once again. “It’s a stunning view, sweetie. Keep going.”.
She didn’t feel tasty; she hadn’t wanted to be. Rather, she felt outrageous, uncomfortable, even traitorous.
However mostly, she felt contrasted. Because she likewise recognized just how much power she held. This was a place where consumers paid for the advantage of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a complete stranger.
” That’s a good lady. Finish 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 convince her to accept the next walk-in.
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Cornwall, England (EN)