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She was 27 the day she accepted her first task in the realm of personal services, however they told her she might and need to pass for more youthful.
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 procedure of intelligence and conversational ability), however still young, supple, and preferable. Marketable to a wide variety of tastes.
To put it simply? Profitable.
Selling yourself was legal here, to reduce it to easy terms, although she didn’t recognize that’s what she ‘d be doing the first day she walked in. She didn’t know she ‘d become a product called Annika *, the name she offered to her brand-new work personality.
This pseudonym didn’t just protect her on paper– it protected her sense of self. She might remove, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she watched from a safe range, hoping each time she ‘d brought out her self-respect intact.
This was just momentary, she informed herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and wished to achieve afterwards.
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 advertisement?”.
The buzzer rang. She pushed the door open to a long narrow hallway lit with strips of multicolour LED lights; floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined the right wall, closed doors lined the. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.
She did.
Later, when asked what she imagined discovering there, she truthfully had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promo and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an instant that hallway didn’t lead to one.
Later, when asked why she stayed a complete week once she knew what it had to do with, her reply came easily:.
” For the cash, naturally.”.
Annika made over $7,500 in 8 days. And she didn’t even need to fuck anyone.
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Her first customer, 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 lingerie is really pretty.”.
She shivered under the blast of a/c, trembling in her four-inch heels, however perhaps it was something else. “Thank you.”.
” So, let’s get going? Do not worry, I’ll walk you through it.”.
In the middle of the room stood what appeared like an ordinary 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 peculiar distinction: 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 begin with a back massage, simple and great.”.
He eliminated his clothes, all of it, and laid face down on the table.
Annika put her hands gingerly on his shoulders and took a deep breath. She might do this. She understood how to give a back massage, no problem.
” Yeah, that’s good.” His voice came stifled from below after numerous minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach in between my legs, do not be shy. Slowly. Yes, easily …”.
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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 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 yummy. Simply slide all over me, there you go.
Her mind was blank. Annika wriggled and moved, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses take control of. She already knew how to drive a man insane. But there was one thing left to learn.
” You can do the reverse slide. Remove your panties and climb back up here. Program me that beautiful …” He must have seen the search her face, due to the fact that he added, “Don’t stress, I will not touch you there.”.
Facing toward his feet she straddled him and leaned forward just so, her back arched ever so somewhat, her intimate parts on complete display.
” Oh, yummy,” he purred again. “It’s a beautiful view, sweetheart. Keep going.”.
Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel yummy; she hadn’t wished to be. Instead, she felt ridiculous, awkward, even traitorous. A plaything for guys with non reusable earnings under the thinly veiled guise of “masseuse”.
But mostly, she felt clashed. Due to the fact that she also recognized just how much power she held. This was a location where consumers paid for the opportunity of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a stranger.
” That’s an excellent lady. Finish me off,” he gasped. Her hands took on a life of their own, moving faster.
He grasped her thighs and launched 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 persuade her to accept the next walk-in.
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