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She was 27 the day she accepted her first task in the realm of individual services, but they told her she could and should 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 procedure of intelligence and conversational capability), however still young, flexible, and desirable. Marketable to a large range of tastes.
To put it simply? Profitable.
Offering yourself was legal here, to minimize it to simple terms, although she didn’t recognize that’s what she ‘d be doing the first day she strolled in. She didn’t understand she ‘d become a product named Annika *, the name she offered to her brand-new work personality.
This pseudonym didn’t only protect her on paper– it safeguarded her sense of self. She might detach, dissociate, disappear. Annika would do all the work while she watched from a safe range, hoping each time she ‘d brought out her self-respect intact.
This was just temporary, she informed herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and intended to accomplish afterwards.
On a cool September night in Melbourne, Australia, not-yet-Annika pressed the call button next to 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 rang. She pushed the door available to a long narrow corridor lit with strips of multicolour LED lights; floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined the ideal wall, closed doors lined the left. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.
She did.
Later on, when asked what she pictured discovering there, she honestly had no response. She ‘d come in for a club promotion and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an immediate that corridor didn’t lead to one.
Later, when asked why she stayed a complete week once she knew what it had to do with, her reply came easily:.
” For the money, 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 customer, 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 truly quite.”.
She shivered under the blast of a/c, shivering in her four-inch heels, but perhaps it was something else. “Thank you.”.
” So, let’s get going? Do not stress, I’ll walk you through it.”.
In the middle of the space 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 peculiar difference: 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, simple and good.”.
He removed 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 understood how to offer a back massage, no problem.
His voice came muffled from below after a number of 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 complete mast at the extremely first brush of her fingertips.
” Oh, that’s best. I’m going to turn around now. You can massage my chest and keep having fun with me.”.
She obeyed. She was proficient at following instructions. When he tapped her wrist, she shocked.
” I’m gon na have you do a body slide. Take off your bra … yes … oh, you look yummy. Just slide all over me, there you go.
Annika moved and winced, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take over. There was one thing left to learn.
” You can do the reverse slide. Take off your panties and climb up back up here. Show me that beautiful …” He should have seen the search her face, since he added, “Don’t stress, I won’t touch you there.”.
Facing towards his feet she straddled him and leaned forward just so, her back arched ever so slightly, her intimate parts on full screen.
” Oh, delicious,” he purred once again. “It’s a gorgeous view, sweetie. Keep going.”.
Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel tasty; she hadn’t wanted to be. Instead, she felt ridiculous, uneasy, even traitorous. A toy for guys with non reusable earnings under the very finely veiled guise of “masseuse”.
However mostly, she felt clashed. Since she also recognized just how much power she held. This was a place where clients paid for the benefit of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a stranger.
” That’s an excellent lady. Complete me off,” he gasped. Her hands handled a life of their own, moving much faster.
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 sufficed to encourage her to accept the next walk-in.
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