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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first job in the realm of personal services, however they told her she could and need to pass for more youthful.

That week, she was 22 to anybody who asked. It was the perfect age, you see: old adequate to consume, likely a university graduate (indicating some measure of intelligence and conversational ability), but still young, flexible, and preferable. Valuable to a large range of tastes.

Simply put? Lucrative.

Offering yourself was legal here, to decrease 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 understand she ‘d end up being a product named Annika *, the name she gave to her new work persona.

This pseudonym didn’t only safeguard her on paper– it safeguarded her sense of self. She could separate, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she enjoyed from a safe distance, praying each time she had actually come out with her dignity undamaged.

This was only temporary, she told herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and wished 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 called. She pushed the door open to a long narrow corridor lit with strips of multicolour LED lights; floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined the best wall, closed doors lined the left. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.

She did.

Later, when asked what she thought of discovering there, she honestly had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promo and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an immediate that hallway didn’t cause one.

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

” For the cash, obviously.”.

Annika made over $7,500 in 8 days. And she didn’t even need to fuck anyone.

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

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

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

” So, let’s get going? 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 product, with a hole at one end. But 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 a few of the oil. Warm it between your hands. We’ll begin with a back massage, great and easy.”.

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 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, do not be shy.

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

” Oh, that’s perfect. I’m going to reverse now. You can massage my chest and keep playing with me.”.

She followed. She was good at following directions. She shocked 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, don’t hesitate. Put some oil on your chest. Simply slide all over me, there you go. Oh, baby, that’s so hot …”.

Her mind was blank. Annika moved and writhed, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses take control of. She currently understood how to drive a guy crazy. But there was one thing delegated discover.

” You can do the reverse slide. Remove your panties and climb up back up here. Show me that gorgeous …” He should have seen the look on her face, because he added, “Don’t fret, I won’t 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 complete display screen.

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

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

However primarily, she felt conflicted. Since she also understood how much power she held. This was a place where consumers paid for the opportunity of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a complete stranger.

” That’s an excellent woman. Finish me off,” he gasped. Her hands handled a life of their own, moving quicker.

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 sufficed to persuade her to accept the next walk-in.