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She was 27 the day she accepted her first job in the world of individual services, however they told her she could and should pass for more youthful.
That week, she was 22 to anybody who asked. It was the perfect age, you see: old sufficient to consume, likely a university graduate (showing some step of intelligence and conversational ability), however still young, supple, and desirable. Marketable to a wide variety of tastes.
To put it simply? Profitable.
Offering yourself was legal here, to lower 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 end up being a product called Annika *, the name she gave to her new work personality.
This pseudonym didn’t just protect her on paper– it protected her sense of self. She could detach, dissociate, disappear. Annika would do all the work while she viewed from a safe distance, praying each time she had actually come out with her self-respect undamaged.
This was just short-lived, she told herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and wanted to achieve afterwards.
On a cool September evening in Melbourne, Australia, not-yet-Annika pressed the call button beside 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 best wall, closed doors lined the. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.
She did.
Later on, when asked what she envisioned finding there, she truthfully had no response. She ‘d come in for a club promotion and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an immediate that corridor didn’t result in one.
Later on, when asked why she remained a full week once she understood 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 consumer, 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 lingerie is actually pretty.”.
She shivered under the blast of cooling, shivering in her four-inch heels, but possibly it was something else. “Thank you.”.
” So, let’s begin? Do not stress, 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 strange difference: a second hole, right where one’s lower torso would line up.
” Grab a few of the oil. Warm it in between your hands. We’ll start with a back massage, great and simple.”.
He eliminated his clothing, 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 knew how to provide a back massage, no problem.
” Yeah, that’s excellent.” His voice came muffled from below after numerous minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach in between my legs, do not be shy. Gradually. Yes, just like that …”.
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He stiffened to full 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 proficient 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 be afraid. Put some oil on your chest. Just move all over me, there you go. Oh, infant, that’s so sexy …”.
Annika agonized and moved, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses take over. There was one thing left to learn.
” You can do the reverse slide. Take off your panties and climb back up here. Program me that stunning …” He must have seen the search her face, due to the fact that he included, “Don’t fret, I will not touch you there.”.
Facing toward his feet she straddled him and leaned forward just so, her back arched ever so slightly, her intimate parts on complete display screen.
” Oh, delicious,” he purred once again. “It’s a gorgeous view, sweetie. Keep going.”.
She didn’t feel delicious; she had not desired to be. Instead, she felt ludicrous, uneasy, even traitorous.
Mostly, she felt conflicted. Because she also recognized just how much power she held. This was a location where clients spent for the benefit of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a stranger, after all.
” That’s an excellent girl. Finish me off,” he gasped. Her hands handled a life of their own, moving much faster.
He grasped her thighs and released with one final 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.
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