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She was 27 the day she accepted her first job in the realm of personal services, however they informed her she could and should pass for more youthful.
So, that week, she was 22 to anybody who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old enough to drink, likely a university graduate (suggesting some procedure of intelligence and conversational ability), however still young, supple, and desirable. Marketable to a large range of tastes.
Simply put? Profitable.
Offering yourself was legal here, to lower it to easy terms, although she didn’t realize that’s what she ‘d be doing the very first day she strolled in. She didn’t understand she ‘d end up being a product called Annika *, the name she offered to her brand-new work persona.
This pseudonym didn’t only secure her on paper– it safeguarded her sense of self. She could remove, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she enjoyed from a safe distance, praying each time she had actually come out with her dignity undamaged.
This was only short-term, she told herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and intended to achieve 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 sounded. She pushed 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. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.
She did.
Later, when asked what she thought of finding there, she truthfully had no answer. 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 was about, her reply came easily:.
” For the cash, 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, offered some much-needed on-the-job training.
” You look great,” he stated, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your underwear is really quite.”.
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 started? Don’t fret, I’ll walk you through it.”.
In the middle of the room stood what appeared like an ordinary massage table, upholstered in a cushioned black product, with a hole at one end. But 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 between your hands. We’ll start with a back massage, easy and good.”.
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 might do this. She knew how to give a back massage, no problem.
” Yeah, that’s excellent.” His voice came stifled 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 complete 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 playing with me.”.
She followed. She was proficient at following instructions. She startled when he tapped her wrist.
” I’m gon na have you do a body slide. Remove your bra … yes … oh, you look tasty. Get on the table, that’s it, do not be afraid. Put some oil on your chest. Just move all over me, there you go. Oh, infant, that’s so hot …”.
Her mind was blank. Annika writhed and slid, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses take over. She already knew how to drive a male insane. However there was something delegated learn.
” You can do the reverse slide. Take off your panties and climb back up here. Program me that lovely …” He should have seen the search her face, because he added, “Don’t stress, I will not touch you there.”.
Facing toward his feet she straddled him and leaned forward just so, her back arched ever so somewhat, her intimate parts on complete display screen.
” Oh, tasty,” he purred again. “It’s a lovely view, sweetie. Keep going.”.
Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel delicious; she had not wanted to be. Rather, she felt ridiculous, uncomfortable, even traitorous. A toy for men with disposable income under the very finely veiled guise of “masseuse”.
Mainly, she felt contrasted. Due to the fact that she likewise understood just how much power she held. This was a place where customers paid for the opportunity of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a complete stranger.
” That’s a good woman. Finish me off,” he gasped. Her hands took on a life of their own, moving quicker.
He grasped 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 sufficed to encourage her to accept the next walk-in.
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