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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first job in the world of individual services, however they informed her she could and should 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), however still young, supple, and desirable. Marketable to a vast array of tastes.
To put it simply? Rewarding.
Selling yourself was legal here, to decrease it to basic 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 end up being an item named 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 might separate, dissociate, disappear. Annika would do all the work while she saw from a safe range, praying each time she had actually come out with her dignity intact.
This was just short-term, she told herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and wished 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 called. 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 on, when asked what she thought of discovering 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 result in one.
Later, when asked why she stayed a full week once she understood 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 anyone.
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Her first customer, a white male in his 40s, supplied some much-needed on-the-job training.
” You look nice,” he said, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your lingerie is actually quite.”.
She shivered under the blast of cooling, shivering in her four-inch heels, but maybe it was something else. “Thank you.”.
” So, let’s get going? Don’t stress, I’ll stroll you through it.”.
In the middle of the room stood what looked like an ordinary massage table, upholstered in a cushioned black material, with a hole at one end. But this table (together with all the other ones here) had one strange difference: a 2nd hole, right where one’s lower torso would line up.
” Grab some of the oil. Warm it between your hands. We’ll start with a back massage, simple and nice.”.
He eliminated his clothing, all of it, and laid face down on the table.
Annika placed 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 great.” His voice came smothered from below after a number of minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and go up to my ass. Reach in between my legs, don’t be shy. Gradually. Yes, easily …”.
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He stiffened to full mast at the really first brush of her fingertips.
” Oh, that’s ideal. I’m going to turn around now. You can massage my chest and keep having fun with me.”.
She obeyed. She was good at following directions. 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 delicious. Get on the table, that’s it, do not be afraid. Put some oil on your chest. Just move all over me, there you go. Oh, baby, that’s so attractive …”.
Her mind was blank. Annika slid and squirmed, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses take control of. She currently knew how to drive a man crazy. There was one thing left to discover.
” You can do the reverse slide. Remove your panties and climb up back up here. Program me that gorgeous …” He should have seen the look on her face, because he added, “Don’t worry, I will not touch you there.”.
Dealing with toward his feet she straddled him and leaned forward just so, her back arched ever so a little, her intimate parts on full display screen.
” Oh, delicious,” he purred again. “It’s a lovely view, sweetheart. Keep going.”.
Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel yummy; she hadn’t wished to be. Instead, she felt ludicrous, uncomfortable, even traitorous. A plaything for guys with non reusable earnings under the thinly veiled guise of “masseuse”.
Primarily, she felt conflicted. Due to the fact that she likewise recognized how much power she held. This was a place where customers paid for the opportunity of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a complete stranger.
” That’s an excellent girl. Finish me off,” he gasped. Her hands took on 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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