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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first task in the world of individual services, but they informed her she might and ought to pass for younger.

So, that week, she was 22 to anybody who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old adequate to consume, likely a university graduate (showing some measure of intelligence and conversational capability), but still young, flexible, and desirable. Marketable to a wide range of tastes.

In other words? Rewarding.

Offering yourself was legal here, to decrease 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 know she ‘d become an item called Annika *, the name she gave to her new work personality.

This pseudonym didn’t just secure her on paper– it secured her sense of self. She might remove, dissociate, disappear. Annika would do all the work while she watched from a safe range, praying each time she had actually come out with her self-respect undamaged.

This was only 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 corridor 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 on, when asked what she thought of discovering there, she honestly had no response. She ‘d come in for a club promo and modelling position; she ‘d known in an immediate that hallway didn’t result in one.

Later, when asked why she stayed a complete week once she understood what it was about, her reply came quickly:.

” For the cash, naturally.”.

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

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

” You look good,” he stated, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your underwear is really quite.”.

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? Do not stress, I’ll walk 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 a few 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 could do this. She understood how to offer a back massage, no problem.

His voice came smothered from below after several minutes. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach between my legs, don’t be shy.

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

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

She followed. She was good 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. Get on the table, that’s it, don’t be afraid. Put some oil on your chest. Simply slide all over me, there you go. Oh, infant, that’s so attractive …”.

Annika slid and wriggled, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take over. There was one thing left to find out.

” You can do the reverse slide. Take off your panties and climb up back up here. Show me that gorgeous …” He should have seen the search her face, because he included, “Don’t worry, I will not 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 screen.

” Oh, tasty,” he purred once again. “It’s a stunning view, sweetheart. Keep going.”.

Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel yummy; she hadn’t wished to be. Instead, she felt absurd, awkward, even traitorous. A toy for males with disposable income under the thinly veiled guise of “masseuse”.

But primarily, she felt contrasted. Since she also realized just how much power she held. This was a place where customers paid for the advantage of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a complete stranger, after all.

” That’s a great girl. 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 last sigh. And it was over.

At the end of those 45 minutes, she had $110 cash in her hand. It was enough to convince her to accept the next walk-in.