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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first task in the world of individual services, however they told her she might and should pass for more youthful.

So, that week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old enough to drink, likely a university graduate (suggesting some procedure of intelligence and conversational capability), but still young, flexible, and desirable. Marketable to a wide range of tastes.

To put it simply? Rewarding.

Selling yourself was legal here, to decrease it to simple terms, although she didn’t understand that’s what she ‘d be doing the first day she walked in. She didn’t understand she ‘d become a product called Annika *, the name she offered to her brand-new work persona.

This pseudonym didn’t only protect her on paper– it safeguarded her sense of self. She might remove, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she saw from a safe range, hoping each time she had actually brought out her dignity intact.

This was just temporary, she informed herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and hoped to accomplish thereafter.

On a cool September evening 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 ad?”.

The buzzer rang. She pressed the door open to a long narrow corridor lit with strips of multicolour LED lights; floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined the best wall, closed doors lined the. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.

She did.

Later on, when asked what she thought of discovering there, she truthfully had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promo and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an immediate that hallway didn’t result in one.

Later, when asked why she remained a complete week once she knew what it was about, her reply came quickly:.

” For the money, of course.”.

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, provided some much-needed on-the-job training.

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

She shivered under the blast of air conditioning, trembling in her four-inch heels, but perhaps it was something else. “Thank you.”.

” So, let’s start? Do not worry, I’ll walk you through it.”.

In the middle of the room stood what appeared like a run-of-the-mill massage table, upholstered in a cushioned black product, with a hole at one end. This table (along with all the other ones here) had one peculiar difference: 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, nice and simple.”.

He removed his clothes, all of it, and laid face down on the table.

Annika positioned her hands gingerly on his shoulders and took a deep breath. She might do this. She understood how to offer a back massage, no problem.

” Yeah, that’s excellent.” His voice came smothered from below after a number of minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and go up to my ass. Reach in between my legs, don’t be shy. Gradually. 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 playing with me.”.

She obeyed. She was good at following instructions. When he tapped her wrist, she startled.

” 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 be afraid. Put some oil on your chest. Simply move all over me, there you go. Oh, infant, that’s so sexy …”.

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

” You can do the reverse slide. Take off your panties and climb up back up here. Show me that lovely …” He should have seen the search her face, since he added, “Don’t stress, I won’t touch you there.”.

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

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

Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel delicious; she had not wished to be. Instead, she felt ludicrous, awkward, even traitorous. A plaything for males with non reusable income under the very finely veiled guise of “masseuse”.

Mainly, she felt contrasted. Due to the fact that she also realized how much power she held. This was a place where clients paid for the advantage of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a complete stranger.

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

He gripped her thighs and launched with one final sigh. And it was over.

At the end of those 45 minutes, she had $110 cash in her hand. It sufficed to persuade her to accept the next walk-in.