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

That week, she was 22 to anybody who asked. It was the perfect age, you see: old sufficient to drink, likely a university graduate (indicating some measure of intelligence and conversational ability), but still young, flexible, and preferable. Marketable to a large range of tastes.

Simply put? Lucrative.

Selling yourself was legal here, to reduce 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 named Annika *, the name she gave to her brand-new work persona.

This pseudonym didn’t just protect her on paper– it protected her sense of self. She could separate, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she saw from a safe distance, praying each time she ‘d brought out her self-respect intact.

This was just momentary, she told herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and wanted to accomplish afterwards.

On a cool September night 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 ad?”.

The buzzer sounded. She pushed the door open up 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 pictured discovering there, she truthfully had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promo and modelling position; she ‘d known in an immediate 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, of course.”.

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

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Her first consumer, 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 pretty.”.

She shivered under the blast of a/c, shivering 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. But this table (together with all the other ones here) had one strange difference: a second 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, simple and nice.”.

He eliminated 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 knew how to give a back massage, no problem.

” Yeah, that’s great.” His voice came stifled from listed below after numerous minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach in between my legs, don’t 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 obeyed. She was good at following instructions. 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. Get on the table, that’s it, do not hesitate. Put some oil on your chest. Simply slide all over me, there you go. Oh, child, that’s so hot …”.

Annika slid and winced, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses take over. There was one thing left to learn.

” You can do the reverse slide. Remove your panties and climb up back up here. Program me that beautiful …” He needs to have seen the search her face, due to the fact that he added, “Don’t stress, I won’t touch you there.”.

Facing towards his feet she straddled him and leaned forward so, her back arched ever so slightly, her intimate parts on complete display.

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

She didn’t feel delicious; she had not wanted to be. Instead, she felt ridiculous, uneasy, even traitorous.

However primarily, she felt contrasted. Since she also realized how much power she held. This was a place where consumers paid for the privilege of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a stranger, after all.

” That’s an excellent woman. Complete me off,” he gasped. Her hands handled 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 cash in her hand. It was enough to encourage her to accept the next walk-in.