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She was 27 the day she accepted her first job in the realm of personal services, but they informed her she might and need to pass for younger.

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

In other words? Lucrative.

Selling yourself was legal here, to reduce it to basic terms, although she didn’t realize that’s what she ‘d be doing the 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 personality.

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

This was only temporary, she told herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and wanted to achieve thereafter.

On a cool September night 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 called. She pressed the door available 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 on, when asked what she envisioned 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 lead to one.

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

” For the money, naturally.”.

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

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Her very 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 lingerie is actually pretty.”.

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

” So, let’s start? Do not worry, I’ll walk you through it.”.

In the middle of the room stood what looked like a run-of-the-mill 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 strange distinction: 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 start with a back massage, easy and great.”.

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 might do this. She understood how to provide 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 in between my legs, don’t be shy. Gradually. Yes, just like that …”.

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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 turn around now. You can massage my chest and keep having fun with me.”.

She complied with. She was good at following instructions. When he tapped her wrist, she stunned.

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

Annika squirmed and slid, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses take over. There was one thing left to discover.

” You can do the reverse slide. Remove your panties and climb up back up here. Show me that gorgeous …” He must have seen the search her face, due to the fact that he added, “Don’t fret, I will not touch you there.”.

Facing toward his feet she straddled him and leaned forward so, her back arched ever so somewhat, her intimate parts on complete display.

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

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

Primarily, she felt conflicted. Since she also realized how much power she held. This was a location where clients spent for the privilege of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a stranger, after all.

” That’s a good 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 sufficed to encourage her to accept the next walk-in.