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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first task in the realm of individual services, but they told her she could and ought to pass for more youthful.

That week, she was 22 to anybody who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old enough to consume, likely a university graduate (indicating some measure of intelligence and conversational capability), however still young, supple, and desirable. Valuable to a wide variety of tastes.

Simply put? Successful.

Offering yourself was legal here, to minimize it to simple terms, although she didn’t realize that’s what she ‘d be doing the first day she walked in. She didn’t know she ‘d end up being a product called Annika *, the name she gave to her new work persona.

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

This was only short-lived, she told herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and hoped to achieve 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 ad?”.

The buzzer called. She pushed 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. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.

She did.

Later, when asked what she envisioned finding there, she truthfully had no response. She ‘d come in for a club promo and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an instant that corridor didn’t lead to one.

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

” For the money, obviously.”.

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

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

” You look good,” he said, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your underwear is really 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? Do not fret, 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 product, with a hole at one end. This table (along with all the other ones here) had one strange 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 begin with a back massage, nice and simple.”.

He removed his clothing, all of it, and laid face down on the table.

Annika positioned 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 good.” His voice came stifled from listed below after a number of minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and go up to my ass. Reach in between my legs, do not be shy. Gradually. Yes, just like that …”.

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

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

She obeyed. 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. Just move all over me, there you go.

Annika slid and twisted, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take over. 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, because he added, “Don’t worry, I won’t touch you there.”.

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

” Oh, tasty,” he purred once again. “It’s a gorgeous view, sweetheart. Keep going.”.

Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel tasty; she hadn’t wished to be. Instead, she felt outrageous, self-conscious, even traitorous. A toy for men with non reusable earnings under the thinly veiled guise of “masseuse”.

But mostly, she felt contrasted. Due to the fact that she also realized just how much power she held. This was a location where customers spent for the opportunity of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a complete stranger, after all.

” That’s a great lady. 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 was enough to encourage her to accept the next walk-in.