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She was 27 the day she accepted her first task in the realm of personal services, but they told her she might and should pass for more youthful.

That week, she was 22 to anybody who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old enough to drink, likely a university graduate (showing some procedure of intelligence and conversational capability), but still young, flexible, and preferable. Marketable to a wide variety of tastes.

To put it simply? Lucrative.

Offering yourself was legal here, to lower it to easy 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 named Annika *, the name she provided to her new work personality.

This pseudonym didn’t only protect 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 distance, hoping each time she ‘d come out with her self-respect undamaged.

This was only short-lived, she informed herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and wished to achieve 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 pushed the door open to a long narrow hallway 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 response. She ‘d come in for a club promo and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an immediate that corridor didn’t cause one.

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

” For the money, of course.”.

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

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

She shivered under the blast of a/c, trembling in her four-inch heels, but maybe 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. However this table (in addition to all the other ones here) had one peculiar difference: a second hole, right where one’s lower upper body would line up.

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

He eliminated his clothes, 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 give a back massage, no problem.

” Yeah, that’s great.” His voice came smothered from listed below after numerous minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach between my legs, don’t be shy. Slowly. 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 turn around now. You can massage my chest and keep playing with me.”.

She complied with. She was good at following instructions. She stunned when he tapped her wrist.

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

Her mind was blank. Annika winced and moved, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take over. She currently understood how to drive a male insane. There was one thing left to find out.

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

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

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

Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel yummy; she had not wanted to be. Instead, she felt ludicrous, self-conscious, even traitorous. A toy for guys with non reusable income under the very finely veiled guise of “masseuse”.

Primarily, she felt conflicted. Because she likewise realized how much power she held. This was a place where clients paid for the benefit of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a stranger, after all.

” That’s an excellent woman. Complete me off,” he gasped. Her hands took on a life of their own, moving much 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 convince her to accept the next walk-in.