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She was 27 the day she accepted her first job in the world of individual services, however they told her she could and must pass for younger.
That week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old sufficient to consume, likely a university graduate (suggesting some measure of intelligence and conversational ability), but still young, supple, and preferable. Marketable to a vast array of tastes.
To put it simply? Profitable.
Selling yourself was legal here, to reduce it to easy terms, although she didn’t recognize that’s what she ‘d be doing the first day she walked in. She didn’t understand she ‘d become a product named Annika *, the name she gave to her new work personality.
This pseudonym didn’t only safeguard her on paper– it safeguarded her sense of self. She could detach, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she viewed from a safe distance, praying each time she ‘d come out with her self-respect undamaged.
This was only short-lived, she told herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and wanted to accomplish afterwards.
On a cool September evening 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 ad?”.
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 right wall, closed doors lined the. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.
She did.
Later, when asked what she imagined finding there, she truthfully had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promotion and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an immediate that corridor didn’t result in one.
Later, when asked why she stayed a complete week once she understood what it was about, her reply came quickly:.
” For the money, obviously.”.
Annika made over $7,500 in 8 days. And she didn’t even need to fuck anyone.
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Her very first customer, a white male in his 40s, provided some much-needed on-the-job training.
” You look great,” he said, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your lingerie 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? Don’t fret, I’ll stroll 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. But this table (in addition to all the other ones here) had one strange distinction: a second 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 start with a back massage, easy and nice.”.
He eliminated his clothes, all of it, and laid face down on the table.
Annika positioned her hands gingerly on his shoulders and took a deep breath. She could do this. She knew how to give a back massage, no problem.
” Yeah, that’s great.” His voice came muffled from listed below after a number of minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach between my legs, do not be shy. Slowly. Yes, just like that …”.
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He stiffened to complete mast at the extremely first brush of her fingertips.
” Oh, that’s ideal. I’m going to reverse now. You can massage my chest and keep playing with me.”.
She complied with. She was proficient at following instructions. She startled when he tapped her wrist.
” 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 slid and agonized, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses take over. There was one thing left to learn.
” You can do the reverse slide. Take off your panties and climb back up here. Program me that gorgeous …” He should have seen the look on her face, since he included, “Don’t worry, I will not touch you there.”.
Dealing with towards his feet she straddled him and leaned forward so, her back arched ever so slightly, her intimate parts on complete display screen.
” Oh, delicious,” he purred again. “It’s a lovely view, sweetie. Keep going.”.
Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel delicious; she hadn’t wanted to be. Instead, she felt outrageous, uneasy, even traitorous. A plaything for guys with non reusable income under the thinly veiled guise of “masseuse”.
But mostly, she felt conflicted. Due to the fact that she likewise realized just how much power she held. This was a location where consumers paid for the opportunity of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a complete stranger, after all.
” That’s an excellent lady. Finish me off,” he gasped. Her hands handled a life of their own, moving much faster.
He gripped her thighs and released 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 persuade her to accept the next walk-in.
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