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

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), but still young, flexible, and desirable. Marketable to a large range of tastes.

To put it simply? Profitable.

Selling yourself was legal here, to lower it to easy terms, although she didn’t understand that’s what she ‘d be doing the first day she strolled in. She didn’t understand she ‘d become an item called Annika *, the name she provided to her new work persona.

This pseudonym didn’t only protect her on paper– it secured her sense of self. She could remove, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she viewed from a safe distance, hoping each time she had actually come out with her dignity intact.

This was only short-lived, she informed herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and wanted to accomplish afterwards.

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 sounded. She pressed the door open to a long narrow corridor 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 thought of 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 cause one.

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

” For the money, obviously.”.

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

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Her first consumer, 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 quite.”.

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

” So, let’s begin? Don’t stress, I’ll walk you through it.”.

In the middle of the space stood what looked like an ordinary massage table, upholstered in a cushioned black material, with a hole at one end. However 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 a few of the oil. Warm it in between your hands. We’ll begin with a back massage, simple and good.”.

He eliminated 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 might do this. She knew how to give a back massage, no problem.

His voice came smothered from below after several 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 having fun with me.”.

She obeyed. She was proficient 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 delicious. Simply move all over me, there you go.

Her mind was blank. Annika wriggled and slid, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses take control of. She already knew how to drive a male insane. There was one thing left to discover.

” You can do the reverse slide. Take off your panties and climb back up here. Program me that lovely …” He must have seen the look on her face, since he included, “Don’t fret, I won’t touch you there.”.

Dealing with towards his feet she straddled him and leaned forward just so, her back arched ever so slightly, her intimate parts on full screen.

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

She didn’t feel yummy; she had not wanted to be. Instead, she felt absurd, self-conscious, even traitorous.

Mainly, she felt clashed. Due to the fact that she also recognized just how much power she held. This was a place where consumers paid for the privilege of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a complete stranger, after all.

” That’s a good woman. Complete me off,” he gasped. Her hands took on a life of their own, moving much faster.

He gripped her thighs and released 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 convince her to accept the next walk-in.