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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first task in the world of individual services, however they informed her she could and ought to pass for younger.

So, that week, she was 22 to anybody who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old sufficient to drink, likely a university graduate (showing some step of intelligence and conversational ability), however still young, flexible, and preferable. Valuable to a wide variety of tastes.

Simply put? Successful.

Offering yourself was legal here, to reduce it to simple terms, although she didn’t realize that’s what she ‘d be doing the very 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 only secure her on paper– it safeguarded her sense of self. She might detach, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she viewed from a safe distance, praying each time she had actually come out with her self-respect intact.

This was just short-lived, she told herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and intended to accomplish thereafter.

On a cool September evening 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 sounded. She pushed the door available to a long narrow corridor lit with strips of multicolour LED lights; floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined the right wall, closed doors lined the left. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.

She did.

Later, when asked what she envisioned discovering 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 lead to one.

Later on, when asked why she remained a complete week once she knew what it was about, her reply came quickly:.

” For the cash, of course.”.

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

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

” You look nice,” he said, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your underwear is really pretty.”.

She shivered under the blast of a/c, shivering in her four-inch heels, however possibly it was something else. “Thank you.”.

” So, let’s begin? Do not fret, 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 product, with a hole at one end. This table (along with all the other ones here) had one peculiar difference: a second 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 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 smothered from below after several minutes. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach in between my legs, do not be shy.

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He stiffened to full mast at the very 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 obeyed. She was proficient at following directions. She stunned when he tapped her wrist.

” 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, don’t hesitate. Put some oil on your chest. Just slide all over me, there you go. Oh, baby, that’s so hot …”.

Annika moved and winced, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses take over. There was one thing left to discover.

” You can do the reverse slide. Take off your panties and climb back up here. Show me that beautiful …” He must have seen the search her face, because he included, “Don’t fret, I will not touch you there.”.

Facing towards his feet she straddled him and leaned forward just so, her back arched ever so somewhat, her intimate parts on full display.

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

She didn’t feel delicious; she hadn’t desired to be. Instead, she felt ridiculous, awkward, even traitorous.

Mainly, she felt clashed. Since she likewise recognized how much power she held. This was a location where consumers paid for the opportunity of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a stranger, after all.

” That’s an excellent girl. Finish me off,” he gasped. Her hands handled a life of their own, moving faster.

He gripped her thighs and released with one last sigh. And it was over.

At the end of those 45 minutes, she had $110 cash in her hand. It was enough to persuade her to accept the next walk-in.