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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first job in the world of personal services, however they told her she could and need to pass for more youthful.

So, that week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the perfect age, you see: old enough to drink, likely a university graduate (suggesting some measure of intelligence and conversational capability), but still young, flexible, and desirable. Marketable to a large range of tastes.

Simply put? Profitable.

Selling yourself was legal here, to lower it to basic terms, although she didn’t understand that’s what she ‘d be doing the very first day she strolled 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 protect her on paper– it protected her sense of self. She could detach, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she enjoyed from a safe distance, hoping each time she ‘d brought out her dignity intact.

This was just temporary, she told herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and hoped to accomplish thereafter.

On a cool September evening in Melbourne, Australia, not-yet-Annika pressed 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 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 on, when asked what she pictured finding there, she truthfully had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promo and modelling position; she ‘d known in an instant that corridor didn’t cause one.

Later, when asked why she remained a full week once she knew what it was about, her reply came easily:.

” For the money, obviously.”.

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

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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 said, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your lingerie is truly quite.”.

She shivered under the blast of cooling, trembling in her four-inch heels, however perhaps it was something else. “Thank you.”.

” So, let’s begin? Do not stress, I’ll walk 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. This table (along with all the other ones here) had one strange 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, easy and nice.”.

He removed his clothing, all of it, and laid face down on the table.

Annika placed her hands gingerly on his shoulders and took a deep breath. She could do this. She knew how to offer a back massage, no problem.

” Yeah, that’s good.” His voice came smothered from listed below after numerous minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and go up to my ass. Reach in between my legs, do not be shy. Slowly. Yes, just like that …”.

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He stiffened to complete 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 having fun with me.”.

She complied with. She was proficient at following directions. She startled when he tapped her wrist.

” I’m gon na have you do a body slide. Take off your bra … yes … oh, you look delicious. Just move all over me, there you go.

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

” You can do the reverse slide. Take off your panties and climb back up here. Show me that stunning …” He must have seen the look on her face, due to the fact that he added, “Don’t worry, I won’t touch you there.”.

Dealing with towards his feet she straddled him and leaned forward so, her back arched ever so somewhat, her intimate parts on complete screen.

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

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

Primarily, she felt clashed. Due to the fact that she likewise realized just how much power she held. This was a location where clients spent for the benefit of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a stranger, after all.

” That’s a good woman. 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 cash in her hand. It was enough to encourage her to accept the next walk-in.