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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first job in the realm of individual services, but they informed her she could and should pass for more youthful.

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 step of intelligence and conversational capability), but still young, supple, and preferable. Valuable to a wide range of tastes.

To put it simply? Rewarding.

Selling 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 become a product called Annika *, the name she gave to her new work personality.

This pseudonym didn’t just 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 distance, praying each time she had actually brought out her self-respect intact.

This was just momentary, she informed herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and hoped to accomplish afterwards.

On a cool September evening 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 pressed 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 left. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.

She did.

Later on, when asked what she imagined 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 stayed a complete week once she understood 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, supplied some much-needed on-the-job training.

” You look great,” he said, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your underwear is truly quite.”.

She shivered under the blast of air conditioning, trembling in her four-inch heels, but perhaps 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 room stood what appeared like a run-of-the-mill massage table, upholstered in a cushioned black product, with a hole at one end. However this table (along with all the other ones here) had one strange difference: a second hole, right where one’s lower torso would line up.

” Grab a few of the oil. Warm it in between your hands. We’ll start with a back massage, simple and great.”.

He eliminated his clothes, 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 provide a back massage, no problem.

” Yeah, that’s great.” His voice came smothered from listed below after numerous minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach between my legs, don’t be shy. Slowly. Yes, easily …”.

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He stiffened to full mast at the very 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 good at following instructions. She surprised 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, do not hesitate. Put some oil on your chest. Just move all over me, there you go. Oh, baby, that’s so hot …”.

Annika slid and twisted, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take over. There was one thing left to learn.

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

Facing towards his feet she straddled him and leaned forward just so, her back arched ever so slightly, her intimate parts on complete display screen.

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

Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel delicious; she hadn’t wanted to be. Instead, she felt ludicrous, awkward, even traitorous. A plaything for men with disposable income under the thinly veiled guise of “masseuse”.

But primarily, she felt clashed. Since she also recognized just how much power she held. This was a place where consumers spent for the benefit of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a complete stranger, after all.

” That’s a good lady. Complete me off,” he gasped. Her hands handled a life of their own, moving 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 money in her hand. It sufficed to encourage her to accept the next walk-in.