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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first task in the world of individual services, but they informed her she might and must pass for more youthful.

So, that week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old enough to consume, likely a university graduate (indicating some step of intelligence and conversational capability), however still young, supple, and desirable. Valuable to a wide range of tastes.

Simply put? Lucrative.

Selling yourself was legal here, to decrease it to easy terms, although she didn’t understand that’s what she ‘d be doing the very first day she walked in. She didn’t understand she ‘d end up being an item named Annika *, the name she offered to her brand-new work personality.

This pseudonym didn’t just protect her on paper– it protected her sense of self. She could separate, dissociate, disappear. Annika would do all the work while she viewed from a safe distance, hoping each time she had actually come out with her self-respect undamaged.

This was only short-lived, she informed herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and hoped 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 rang. She pushed the door open up to a long narrow hallway 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 thought of discovering there, she truthfully had no response. She ‘d come in for a club promo and modelling position; she ‘d known in an immediate that corridor didn’t lead to one.

Later, when asked why she stayed a full week once she understood what it was about, her reply came easily:.

” For the cash, obviously.”.

Annika made over $7,500 in 8 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 nice,” he said, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your underwear 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 begin? Don’t fret, I’ll walk 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. But this table (along with all the other ones here) had one strange difference: a second hole, right where one’s lower upper body would line up.

” Grab a few of the oil. Warm it between your hands. We’ll start with a back massage, nice and easy.”.

He eliminated 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 offer 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 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 good at following instructions. When he tapped her wrist, she startled.

” I’m gon na have you do a body slide. Remove your bra … yes … oh, you look tasty. Get on the table, that’s it, don’t hesitate. Put some oil on your chest. Just move all over me, there you go. Oh, baby, that’s so hot …”.

Annika moved and twisted, 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 up back up here. Program me that stunning …” He must have seen the search her face, due to the fact that he added, “Don’t stress, I won’t 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, delicious,” he purred once again. “It’s a beautiful view, sweetheart. Keep going.”.

Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel tasty; she hadn’t wished to be. Rather, she felt outrageous, uneasy, even traitorous. A toy for men with disposable earnings under the thinly veiled guise of “masseuse”.

Mainly, she felt conflicted. Since she also understood how much power she held. This was a place where clients paid for the opportunity of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a complete stranger, after all.

” That’s a good lady. Finish me off,” he gasped. Her hands handled a life of their own, moving quicker.

He grasped her thighs and launched with one final sigh. And it was over.

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