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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first task in the realm of personal services, but they told her she could and ought to pass for more youthful.
So, that week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the perfect age, you see: old adequate to drink, likely a university graduate (showing some measure of intelligence and conversational capability), however still young, flexible, and desirable. Marketable to a wide range of tastes.
In other words? Lucrative.
Selling yourself was legal here, to lower it to basic terms, although she didn’t realize that’s what she ‘d be doing the first day she strolled in. She didn’t know she ‘d become a product called Annika *, the name she offered to her new work personality.
This pseudonym didn’t only secure her on paper– it protected her sense of self. She might separate, dissociate, disappear. Annika would do all the work while she watched from a safe range, praying each time she ‘d brought out her self-respect intact.
This was only short-term, she informed herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and hoped to accomplish thereafter.
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 pressed the door open to a long narrow hallway 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, when asked what she envisioned discovering there, she truthfully had no response. She ‘d come in for a club promo and modelling position; she ‘d known in an instant that corridor didn’t lead to one.
Later, when asked why she stayed a complete week once she knew what it was about, her reply came easily:.
” For the money, obviously.”.
Annika made over $7,500 in 8 days. And she didn’t even need to fuck anyone.
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Her first consumer, a white male in his 40s, offered some much-needed on-the-job training.
” You look good,” he stated, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your underwear is actually pretty.”.
She shivered under the blast of cooling, trembling in her four-inch heels, but perhaps it was something else. “Thank you.”.
” So, let’s get going? Do not worry, I’ll stroll you through it.”.
In the middle of the space stood what appeared like an ordinary massage table, upholstered in a cushioned black product, with a hole at one end. But this table (in addition to all the other ones here) had one peculiar distinction: a 2nd hole, right where one’s lower upper body would line up.
” Grab some of the oil. Warm it in between your hands. We’ll start with a back massage, easy and nice.”.
He removed 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 could do this. She knew how to offer 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. Slowly. Yes, just like that …”.
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He stiffened to full mast at the very first brush of her fingertips.
” Oh, that’s perfect. I’m going to turn around now. You can massage my chest and keep having fun with me.”.
She obeyed. She was proficient at following directions. When he tapped her wrist, she shocked.
” I’m gon na have you do a body slide. Take off your bra … yes … oh, you look yummy. Get on the table, that’s it, don’t hesitate. Put some oil on your chest. Just move all over me, there you go. Oh, baby, that’s so attractive …”.
Annika slid and writhed, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take over. There was one thing left to find out.
” You can do the reverse slide. Take off your panties and climb back up here. Show me that stunning …” He needs to have seen the search her face, because he included, “Don’t fret, I won’t touch you there.”.
Facing toward his feet she straddled him and leaned forward just so, her back arched ever so a little, her intimate parts on full display.
” Oh, yummy,” he purred again. “It’s a beautiful view, sweetie. Keep going.”.
She didn’t feel tasty; she had not desired to be. Rather, she felt ridiculous, uncomfortable, even traitorous.
Mostly, she felt conflicted. Since she also understood just how much power she held. This was a place where customers paid for the advantage of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a stranger.
” That’s a good girl. Complete me off,” he gasped. Her hands took on a life of their own, moving faster.
He gripped her thighs and released 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 convince her to accept the next walk-in.
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