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She was 27 the day she accepted her first job in the world of individual services, but they told her she might and must pass for younger.

That week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old adequate to consume, likely a university graduate (suggesting some measure of intelligence and conversational capability), but still young, flexible, and preferable. Valuable to a wide range of tastes.

Simply put? 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 very first day she walked in. She didn’t understand she ‘d become a product named Annika *, the name she offered to her brand-new work persona.

This pseudonym didn’t only safeguard her on paper– it safeguarded her sense of self. She could remove, dissociate, disappear. Annika would do all the work while she watched from a safe range, praying each time she ‘d come out with her self-respect undamaged.

This was just short-term, she told herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and wanted to accomplish afterwards.

On a cool September evening in Melbourne, Australia, not-yet-Annika pushed 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 ad?”.

The buzzer sounded. 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 on, when asked what she pictured discovering there, she honestly had no answer. 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 complete week once she understood what it was about, her reply came easily:.

” For the money, obviously.”.

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

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

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

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

” So, let’s get started? Don’t stress, I’ll walk 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. However this table (together with all the other ones here) had one peculiar distinction: a second hole, right where one’s lower upper body would line up.

” Grab a few of the oil. Warm it between your hands. We’ll begin with a back massage, great and simple.”.

He removed 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 provide a back massage, no problem.

” Yeah, that’s good.” His voice came stifled from listed below after numerous minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and go 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 turn around now. You can massage my chest and keep having fun with me.”.

She followed. She was good at following instructions. She surprised when he tapped her wrist.

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

Her mind was blank. Annika twisted and slid, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses take over. She already understood how to drive a male crazy. There was one thing left to learn.

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

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

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

She didn’t feel delicious; she hadn’t wanted to be. Instead, she felt absurd, self-conscious, even traitorous.

But primarily, she felt conflicted. Since she also recognized how much power she held. This was a location where consumers spent for the benefit of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a complete stranger, after all.

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

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

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