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

That week, she was 22 to anybody who asked. It was the perfect age, you see: old sufficient to consume, likely a university graduate (showing some step of intelligence and conversational capability), however still young, supple, and preferable. Marketable to a vast array of tastes.

In other words? Profitable.

Offering yourself was legal here, to reduce it to simple terms, although she didn’t recognize that’s what she ‘d be doing the very first day she walked in. She didn’t understand she ‘d become an item called Annika *, the name she gave to her brand-new work persona.

This pseudonym didn’t only protect her on paper– it safeguarded her sense of self. She could separate, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she enjoyed from a safe distance, praying each time she ‘d brought out her dignity intact.

This was just short-lived, she informed herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and wished to achieve thereafter.

On a cool September evening in Melbourne, Australia, not-yet-Annika pushed 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 ad?”.

The buzzer called. She pressed the door open to a long narrow corridor lit with strips of multicolour LED lights; floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined the right wall, closed doors lined the left. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.

She did.

Later, when asked what she imagined discovering there, she honestly had no response. She ‘d come in for a club promo and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an instant that corridor didn’t cause one.

Later on, when asked why she remained a complete week once she knew what it had to do with, her reply came quickly:.

” For the money, obviously.”.

Annika made over $7,500 in 8 days. And she didn’t even need to fuck anybody.

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

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

She shivered under the blast of a/c, shivering in her four-inch heels, but perhaps it was something else. “Thank you.”.

” So, let’s begin? Do not stress, I’ll stroll you through it.”.

In the middle of the space stood what looked 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 strange distinction: a 2nd 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, 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 might do this. She knew how to offer a back massage, no problem.

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

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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 reverse now. You can massage my chest and keep having fun with me.”.

She followed. She was proficient at following directions. She stunned when he tapped her wrist.

” I’m gon na have you do a body slide. Take off your bra … yes … oh, you look tasty. Get on the table, that’s it, don’t be afraid. Put some oil on your chest. Just slide all over me, there you go. Oh, baby, that’s so sexy …”.

Her mind was blank. Annika winced and slid, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take over. She currently knew how to drive a guy insane. There was one thing left to find out.

” You can do the reverse slide. Take off your panties and climb back up here. Program me that stunning …” He must have seen the look on her face, since he added, “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 a little, her intimate parts on full display.

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

She didn’t feel tasty; she hadn’t desired to be. Instead, she felt ridiculous, uncomfortable, even traitorous.

But mostly, she felt clashed. Since she likewise recognized how much power she held. This was a location where consumers paid for the privilege of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a stranger.

” That’s a good woman. Finish me off,” he gasped. Her hands handled a life of their own, moving quicker.

He grasped her thighs and released with one last sigh. And it was over.

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