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She was 27 the day she accepted her first job in the world of individual services, however they informed her she could and ought 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 (showing some measure of intelligence and conversational capability), however still young, flexible, and desirable. Marketable to a wide range of tastes.

Simply put? Lucrative.

Selling yourself was legal here, to reduce it to basic terms, although she didn’t understand that’s what she ‘d be doing the first day she walked in. She didn’t know she ‘d become a product named Annika *, the name she gave to her new work persona.

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

This was only short-lived, she told herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and hoped to accomplish afterwards.

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

She did.

Later on, when asked what she envisioned discovering there, she truthfully had no response. She ‘d come in for a club promotion and modelling position; she ‘d known in an immediate that corridor didn’t result in one.

Later, when asked why she remained a complete week once she knew what it had to do with, her reply came quickly:.

” For the cash, obviously.”.

Annika made over $7,500 in 8 days. And she didn’t even need to fuck anyone.

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

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

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

” So, let’s get started? Don’t worry, I’ll walk you through it.”.

In the middle of the room stood what looked like an ordinary massage table, upholstered in a cushioned black material, with a hole at one end. However this table (together with all the other ones here) had one peculiar difference: a 2nd hole, right where one’s lower torso would line up.

” Grab some of the oil. Warm it in between your hands. We’ll begin with a back massage, easy and good.”.

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

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

” Yeah, that’s excellent.” His voice came muffled from listed 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, just like that …”.

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He stiffened to full 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 good at following instructions. When he tapped her wrist, she stunned.

” I’m gon na have you do a body slide. Take off your bra … yes … oh, you look delicious. Simply move all over me, there you go.

Annika twisted and moved, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses take over. There was one thing left to discover.

” You can do the reverse slide. Take off your panties and climb back up here. Program me that gorgeous …” He needs to have seen the look on her face, since he added, “Don’t worry, I won’t touch you there.”.

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

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

Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel yummy; she had not wished to be. Instead, she felt absurd, uneasy, even traitorous. A plaything for men with non reusable income under the thinly veiled guise of “masseuse”.

However primarily, she felt contrasted. Because 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 an excellent lady. Complete me off,” he gasped. Her hands handled a life of their own, moving quicker.

He grasped her thighs and released with one last sigh. And it was over.

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