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She was 27 the day she accepted her first task in the world of personal services, but they told her she might and should pass for more youthful.

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

Simply put? Lucrative.

Offering yourself was legal here, to lower it to simple terms, although she didn’t recognize that’s what she ‘d be doing the very first day she strolled in. She didn’t know she ‘d end up being a product named Annika *, the name she offered to her new work personality.

This pseudonym didn’t only safeguard 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 brought out her dignity undamaged.

This was just momentary, she told herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and wanted to achieve afterwards.

On a cool September night 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 advertisement?”.

The buzzer called. She pushed 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 left. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.

She did.

Later on, when asked what she envisioned discovering there, she honestly had no response. She ‘d come in for a club promo and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an immediate that hallway didn’t cause one.

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

” 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 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 underwear is really quite.”.

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

” So, let’s start? Don’t worry, 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 product, with a hole at one end. This table (along with all the other ones here) had one peculiar distinction: a 2nd hole, right where one’s lower torso would line up.

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

He removed his clothes, all of it, and laid face down on the table.

Annika put her hands gingerly on his shoulders and took a deep breath. She could do this. She understood how to offer a back massage, no problem.

His voice came smothered from listed below after several minutes. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach 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 obeyed. She was good at following directions. 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 tasty. Simply slide all over me, there you go.

Her mind was blank. Annika moved and winced, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take over. She already knew how to drive a guy insane. There was one thing left to find out.

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

Facing toward his feet she straddled him and leaned forward so, her back arched ever so slightly, her intimate parts on full display screen.

” Oh, delicious,” he purred again. “It’s a stunning view, sweetheart. Keep going.”.

She didn’t feel tasty; she hadn’t desired to be. Rather, she felt ludicrous, awkward, even traitorous.

Primarily, she felt conflicted. Because she likewise realized just how much power she held. This was a location where clients paid for the advantage of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a stranger.

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

He grasped her thighs and released 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 encourage her to accept the next walk-in.