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She was 27 the day she accepted her first job in the world of individual services, however they informed her she might and ought to pass for more youthful.
That week, she was 22 to anybody who asked. It was the perfect age, you see: old enough to drink, likely a university graduate (showing some step of intelligence and conversational capability), however still young, flexible, and preferable. Valuable to a wide range of tastes.
In other words? Profitable.
Offering yourself was legal here, to reduce it to easy 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 become an item named Annika *, the name she provided to her new work persona.
This pseudonym didn’t only protect her on paper– it safeguarded her sense of self. She might detach, dissociate, disappear. Annika would do all the work while she viewed from a safe range, praying each time she ‘d come out with her self-respect undamaged.
This was only short-term, she told herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and wished to achieve afterwards.
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 advertisement?”.
The buzzer called. She pressed the door available to a long narrow corridor lit with strips of multicolour LED lights; floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined the ideal wall, closed doors lined the left. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.
She did.
Later on, when asked what she thought of finding there, she truthfully had no response. She ‘d come in for a club promotion and modelling position; she ‘d known in an instant that hallway didn’t lead to one.
Later on, when asked why she remained a full week once she knew what it was about, her reply came quickly:.
” For the cash, obviously.”.
Annika made over $7,500 in eight days. And she didn’t even have to fuck anyone.
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Her very first consumer, a white male in his 40s, provided some much-needed on-the-job training.
” You look good,” he stated, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your underwear is truly pretty.”.
She shivered under the blast of a/c, shivering in her four-inch heels, but possibly it was something else. “Thank you.”.
” So, let’s get going? Don’t worry, I’ll walk you through it.”.
In the middle of the room 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 second 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, good and easy.”.
He removed his clothes, all of it, and laid face down on the table.
Annika positioned her hands gingerly on his shoulders and took a deep breath. She could do this. She knew how to provide a back massage, no problem.
” Yeah, that’s excellent.” His voice came smothered from listed below after a number of minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach in between my legs, do not be shy. Gradually. Yes, easily …”.
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He stiffened to full mast at the extremely 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 good at following instructions. When he tapped her wrist, she startled.
” I’m gon na have you do a body slide. Remove 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 move all over me, there you go. Oh, infant, that’s so attractive …”.
Annika slid and writhed, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses 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 needs to have seen the look on her face, because he added, “Don’t worry, I won’t 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 full display screen.
” Oh, tasty,” he purred again. “It’s a stunning view, sweetheart. Keep going.”.
Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel tasty; she hadn’t wished to be. Instead, she felt ludicrous, awkward, even traitorous. A plaything for guys with disposable earnings under the thinly veiled guise of “masseuse”.
However mainly, she felt contrasted. Since she also understood just how much power she held. This was a location where customers spent for the privilege of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a stranger, after all.
” That’s a good woman. Finish me off,” he gasped. Her hands handled a life of their own, moving faster.
He gripped her thighs and released with one final sigh. And it was over.
At the end of those 45 minutes, she had $110 cash in her hand. It sufficed to convince her to accept the next walk-in.
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