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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first task in the realm of individual services, however they told her she might and must pass for younger.
That week, she was 22 to anybody who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old enough to consume, likely a university graduate (showing some step of intelligence and conversational capability), however still young, flexible, and desirable. Marketable to a wide variety of tastes.
Simply put? Lucrative.
Offering yourself was legal here, to decrease it to easy terms, although she didn’t recognize that’s what she ‘d be doing the very first day she walked in. She didn’t know she ‘d end up being a product named Annika *, the name she provided to her brand-new work persona.
This pseudonym didn’t only safeguard her on paper– it protected her sense of self. She could remove, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she saw from a safe range, hoping each time she ‘d come out with her dignity undamaged.
This was just short-lived, she told herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and wished to achieve afterwards.
On a cool September evening 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 called. She pressed the door open up to a long narrow corridor 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 on, when asked what she pictured finding there, she truthfully had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promotion and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an immediate that corridor didn’t lead to one.
Later, when asked why she remained a complete week once she knew what it was about, her reply came easily:.
” For the cash, obviously.”.
Annika made over $7,500 in 8 days. And she didn’t even need to fuck anyone.
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Her first client, a white male in his 40s, provided some much-needed on-the-job training.
” You look nice,” he stated, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your underwear is actually pretty.”.
She shivered under the blast of a/c, trembling in her four-inch heels, however possibly it was something else. “Thank you.”.
” So, let’s get going? Do not fret, I’ll stroll 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. However 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 a few of the oil. Warm it between your hands. We’ll begin with a back massage, nice and simple.”.
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 could do this. She knew how to provide a back massage, no problem.
” Yeah, that’s good.” His voice came smothered from below after numerous minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and go up to my ass. Reach between my legs, do not be shy. Slowly. Yes, just like that …”.
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He stiffened to full mast at the really first brush of her fingertips.
” Oh, that’s best. I’m going to reverse now. You can massage my chest and keep playing with me.”.
She followed. She was proficient at following instructions. 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. Simply 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 currently knew how to drive a guy insane. However there was one thing delegated find out.
” You can do the reverse slide. Take off your panties and climb up back up here. Program me that gorgeous …” He should have seen the search her face, due to the fact that he added, “Don’t fret, I won’t touch you there.”.
Facing toward his feet she straddled him and leaned forward just so, her back arched ever so slightly, her intimate parts on complete display.
” Oh, tasty,” he purred once again. “It’s a gorgeous view, sweetie. Keep going.”.
Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel delicious; she hadn’t wanted to be. Rather, she felt outrageous, uneasy, even traitorous. A plaything for males with non reusable earnings under the thinly veiled guise of “masseuse”.
Mostly, she felt contrasted. Due to the fact that she also understood just how much power she held. This was a place where customers paid for the opportunity of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a stranger.
” That’s a good lady. Complete me off,” he gasped. Her hands handled a life of their own, moving quicker.
He gripped 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.
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Cornwall, England (EN)