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She was 27 the day she accepted her first job in the world of personal services, however they informed her she might and need to pass for younger.
So, that week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old adequate to drink, likely a university graduate (suggesting some step of intelligence and conversational capability), however still young, flexible, and desirable. Valuable to a large range of tastes.
To put it simply? Successful.
Selling yourself was legal here, to minimize it to easy 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 end up being a product named Annika *, the name she provided to her brand-new work personality.
This pseudonym didn’t just secure her on paper– it secured her sense of self. She could remove, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she saw from a safe distance, hoping each time she had actually come out with her self-respect intact.
This was just temporary, she informed herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and wished to achieve afterwards.
On a cool September night 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 advertisement?”.
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 right wall, closed doors lined the left. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.
She did.
Later, when asked what she thought of finding there, she honestly had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promo and modelling position; she ‘d known in an instant that corridor didn’t cause one.
Later, when asked why she remained a complete week once she understood 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 have to fuck anybody.
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Her first client, 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 really quite.”.
She shivered under the blast of a/c, shivering in her four-inch heels, but maybe it was something else. “Thank you.”.
” So, let’s get started? Don’t fret, 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 material, with a hole at one end. This table (along with all the other ones here) had one peculiar difference: a second hole, right where one’s lower torso would line up.
” Grab some of the oil. Warm it in between your hands. We’ll start with a back massage, nice 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 might do this. She understood how to offer a back massage, no problem.
” Yeah, that’s excellent.” His voice came smothered from below after several minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach between my legs, do not be shy. Gradually. Yes, easily …”.
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He stiffened to complete mast at the extremely first brush of her fingertips.
” Oh, that’s ideal. I’m going to reverse now. You can massage my chest and keep playing with me.”.
She complied with. She was proficient at following instructions. She shocked when he tapped her wrist.
” I’m gon na have you do a body slide. Remove 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 slide all over me, there you go. Oh, child, that’s so attractive …”.
Annika squirmed and slid, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses take over. There was one thing left to find out.
” You can do the reverse slide. Take off your panties and climb up back up here. Program me that lovely …” He should have seen the look on her face, because he added, “Don’t worry, I will not 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 display screen.
” Oh, yummy,” he purred once again. “It’s a gorgeous view, sweetie. Keep going.”.
Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel delicious; she had not wished to be. Instead, she felt outrageous, uncomfortable, even traitorous. A plaything for men with non reusable earnings under the very finely veiled guise of “masseuse”.
However mainly, she felt clashed. Due to the fact that she also recognized just how much power she held. This was a place where consumers spent for the benefit of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a complete stranger, after all.
” That’s an excellent lady. Complete me off,” he gasped. Her hands took on a life of their own, moving faster.
He gripped her thighs and launched with one last 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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