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She was 27 the day she accepted her first task in the realm of personal services, however they informed her she could and must 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 (indicating some procedure of intelligence and conversational ability), however still young, flexible, and preferable. Valuable to a wide variety of tastes.

In other words? Profitable.

Selling yourself was legal here, to decrease it to basic terms, although she didn’t recognize 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 personality.

This pseudonym didn’t just protect her on paper– it secured her sense of self. She might separate, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she viewed from a safe range, praying each time she had actually come out with her self-respect undamaged.

This was only temporary, she informed herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and wished to achieve thereafter.

On a cool September night 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 hallway 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 thought of finding there, she honestly had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promotion 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 had to do with, her reply came easily:.

” For the money, obviously.”.

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

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

” You look great,” he said, 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 maybe it was something else. “Thank you.”.

” So, let’s get started? Do not worry, I’ll walk 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. However this table (along with all the other ones here) had one peculiar difference: a 2nd hole, right where one’s lower upper body would line up.

” Grab a few of the oil. Warm it in between your hands. We’ll start with a back massage, great and simple.”.

He removed 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 could do this. She understood how to provide a back massage, no problem.

” Yeah, that’s excellent.” His voice came smothered from below after several minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach between my legs, don’t 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 playing with me.”.

She followed. She was good at following directions. When he tapped her wrist, she surprised.

” I’m gon na have you do a body slide. Take off your bra … yes … oh, you look delicious. Simply slide 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 learn.

” You can do the reverse slide. Take off your panties and climb back up here. Show me that gorgeous …” He must have seen the look on her face, due to the fact that 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 complete display.

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

She didn’t feel tasty; she hadn’t wanted to be. Rather, she felt outrageous, uneasy, even traitorous.

But mainly, she felt conflicted. Due to the fact that she also recognized how much power she held. This was a location where clients paid for the privilege of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a complete stranger.

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

He gripped her thighs and launched 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.