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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first task in the realm of personal services, however they informed her she could and need to pass for younger.
So, that week, she was 22 to anybody who asked. It was the perfect age, you see: old sufficient to consume, likely a university graduate (indicating some procedure of intelligence and conversational ability), but still young, flexible, and desirable. Valuable to a large range of tastes.
To put it simply? Successful.
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 know she ‘d become a product named Annika *, the name she gave to her new work persona.
This pseudonym didn’t just secure her on paper– it safeguarded her sense of self. She might remove, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she watched from a safe distance, praying each time she ‘d come out with her self-respect intact.
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 pushed 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 pressed the door open to a long narrow corridor lit with strips of multicolour LED lights; floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined the best wall, closed doors lined the left. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.
She did.
Later on, when asked what she thought of finding there, she truthfully had no answer. 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 on, when asked why she stayed a complete week once she understood what it had to do with, her reply came quickly:.
” For the cash, naturally.”.
Annika made over $7,500 in eight days. And she didn’t even have 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 actually quite.”.
She shivered under the blast of a/c, shivering in her four-inch heels, but possibly it was something else. “Thank you.”.
” So, let’s begin? Do not fret, I’ll walk you through it.”.
In the middle of the room stood what appeared like a run-of-the-mill massage table, upholstered in a cushioned black material, with a hole at one end. However this table (together with all the other ones here) had one strange distinction: 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, good and easy.”.
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 provide a back massage, no problem.
His voice came muffled from listed below after several minutes. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach in between my legs, don’t 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 reverse now. You can massage my chest and keep playing with me.”.
She complied with. She was proficient at following instructions. When he tapped her wrist, she surprised.
” 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 writhed and slid, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses take control of. She already understood how to drive a man insane. But there was one thing delegated learn.
” You can do the reverse slide. Take off your panties and climb back up here. Program me that stunning …” He should have seen the look on her face, because he included, “Don’t worry, I will not touch you there.”.
Dealing with towards his feet she straddled him and leaned forward just so, her back arched ever so a little, her intimate parts on complete display.
” Oh, tasty,” he purred again. “It’s a beautiful view, sweetie. Keep going.”.
Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel yummy; she had not wished to be. Rather, she felt ridiculous, awkward, even traitorous. A toy for men with disposable income under the thinly veiled guise of “masseuse”.
But primarily, she felt clashed. Since she likewise understood how much power she held. This was a location where consumers spent for the privilege of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a stranger, after all.
” That’s a good girl. Complete me off,” he gasped. Her hands took on a life of their own, moving quicker.
He gripped her thighs and released with one last sigh. And it was over.
At the end of those 45 minutes, she had $110 money in her hand. It was enough to convince her to accept the next walk-in.
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