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She was 27 the day she accepted her first job in the realm of individual services, however they told her she could and ought to pass for younger.

So, that week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the perfect age, you see: old adequate to consume, likely a university graduate (suggesting some procedure of intelligence and conversational ability), however still young, supple, and desirable. Valuable to a wide variety of tastes.

Simply put? Profitable.

Selling yourself was legal here, to minimize it to basic 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 a product called Annika *, the name she provided to her new work persona.

This pseudonym didn’t just secure her on paper– it protected her sense of self. She might detach, dissociate, disappear. Annika would do all the work while she enjoyed from a safe range, praying each time she ‘d come out with her self-respect intact.

This was just short-term, she told herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and wished 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 advertisement?”.

The buzzer called. She pushed the door open to a long narrow corridor 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 imagined finding there, she truthfully had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promo and modelling position; she ‘d known in an instant that hallway didn’t lead to one.

Later, when asked why she remained a full 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 have to fuck anyone.

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

” You look nice,” he said, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your lingerie is truly quite.”.

She shivered under the blast of a/c, shivering in her four-inch heels, however perhaps it was something else. “Thank you.”.

” So, let’s begin? 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 (along with all the other ones here) had one peculiar distinction: a second hole, right where one’s lower torso 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 clothing, 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 offer a back massage, no problem.

” Yeah, that’s good.” His voice came muffled from below after numerous minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach between my legs, do not be shy. Gradually. Yes, easily …”.

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He stiffened to full mast at the really first brush of her fingertips.

” Oh, that’s perfect. I’m going to reverse now. You can massage my chest and keep playing with me.”.

She obeyed. She was proficient at following instructions. 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 delicious. Get on the table, that’s it, do not hesitate. Put some oil on your chest. Just move all over me, there you go. Oh, infant, that’s so attractive …”.

Her mind was blank. Annika agonized and moved, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take over. She already understood how to drive a male insane. But there was something delegated discover.

” You can do the reverse slide. Remove your panties and climb up back up here. Show me that gorgeous …” He should have seen the look on her face, because he added, “Don’t worry, I will not touch you there.”.

Dealing with toward his feet she straddled him and leaned forward so, her back arched ever so a little, her intimate parts on full screen.

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

She didn’t feel delicious; she hadn’t desired to be. Instead, she felt absurd, uncomfortable, even traitorous.

Mostly, she felt contrasted. Because she likewise recognized how much power she held. This was a place where clients spent for the benefit of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a complete stranger, after all.

” That’s a good girl. Complete me off,” he gasped. Her hands took on a life of their own, moving quicker.

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.