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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first task in the realm of individual services, but they informed her she might and must 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 (indicating some procedure of intelligence and conversational capability), but still young, flexible, and preferable. Valuable to a vast array of tastes.

In other words? Profitable.

Offering yourself was legal here, to reduce it to easy terms, although she didn’t realize that’s what she ‘d be doing the very first day she walked 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 just safeguard her on paper– it safeguarded her sense of self. She could remove, dissociate, disappear. Annika would do all the work while she saw from a safe range, hoping each time she had actually brought out her self-respect undamaged.

This was just short-lived, she told herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved 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 rang. She pressed 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 left. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.

She did.

Later on, when asked what she pictured finding there, she truthfully had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promotion and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an instant that hallway didn’t lead to one.

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

” For the cash, of course.”.

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

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Her very first client, 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 lingerie is truly quite.”.

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

” So, let’s get going? Don’t fret, I’ll stroll you through it.”.

In the middle of the room stood what appeared like an ordinary 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 upper body would line up.

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

He removed his clothing, 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 provide a back massage, no problem.

His voice came stifled from below after numerous minutes. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach between my legs, don’t be shy.

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He stiffened to full mast at the very first brush of her fingertips.

” Oh, that’s ideal. I’m going to turn around now. You can massage my chest and keep having fun with me.”.

She complied with. She was proficient at following directions. 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 yummy. 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 hot …”.

Her mind was blank. Annika moved and squirmed, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses take control of. She currently knew how to drive a guy insane. However there was something left to learn.

” You can do the reverse slide. Take off your panties and climb up back up here. Program me that gorgeous …” He must have seen the look on 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 a little, her intimate parts on full screen.

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

She didn’t feel yummy; she hadn’t desired to be. Rather, she felt ludicrous, awkward, even traitorous.

However mostly, she felt conflicted. Because she likewise recognized how much power she held. This was a place where customers paid for the benefit of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a complete stranger.

” That’s a great girl. Complete me off,” he gasped. Her hands took on a life of their own, moving quicker.

He grasped her thighs and launched with one final 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.