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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first job in the world of personal services, however they told her she could and must pass for younger.

That week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the perfect age, you see: old sufficient to consume, likely a university graduate (suggesting some measure of intelligence and conversational ability), however still young, supple, and desirable. Marketable to a wide variety of tastes.

To put it simply? Lucrative.

Selling yourself was legal here, to reduce it to easy terms, although she didn’t understand that’s what she ‘d be doing the very first day she strolled in. She didn’t understand she ‘d become an item called Annika *, the name she provided to her new work personality.

This pseudonym didn’t only protect her on paper– it safeguarded her sense of self. She could remove, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she saw from a safe range, hoping each time she ‘d come out with her dignity intact.

This was only temporary, she informed herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and hoped to accomplish afterwards.

On a cool September evening in Melbourne, Australia, not-yet-Annika pressed the call button beside 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 pressed the door open up to a long narrow hallway 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 pictured finding there, she honestly had no response. She ‘d come in for a club promo and modelling position; she ‘d known in an immediate that hallway didn’t lead to one.

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

” For the money, of course.”.

Annika made over $7,500 in 8 days. And she didn’t even have to fuck anyone.

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

” You look great,” he stated, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your underwear is really quite.”.

She shivered under the blast of air conditioning, shivering in her four-inch heels, but possibly it was something else. “Thank you.”.

” So, let’s start? Don’t stress, I’ll walk you through it.”.

In the middle of the room stood what looked like a run-of-the-mill massage table, upholstered in a cushioned black material, 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 a few of the oil. Warm it between your hands. We’ll begin with a back massage, simple and good.”.

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

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

” Yeah, that’s good.” His voice came stifled from below after a number of minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach in between my legs, don’t be shy. Slowly. Yes, easily …”.

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He stiffened to complete mast at the really first brush of her fingertips.

” Oh, that’s perfect. I’m going to reverse now. You can massage my chest and keep playing with me.”.

She obeyed. She was good at following directions. When he tapped her wrist, she shocked.

” I’m gon na have you do a body slide. Take off your bra … yes … oh, you look yummy. Just slide all over me, there you go.

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

” 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 included, “Don’t worry, I won’t touch you there.”.

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

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

She didn’t feel tasty; she had not desired to be. Rather, she felt ridiculous, uncomfortable, even traitorous.

However mostly, she felt clashed. Due to the fact that she also understood how much power she held. This was a location where customers paid for the opportunity of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a stranger.

” That’s a great girl. Complete me off,” he gasped. Her hands took on a life of their own, moving much faster.

He grasped 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 persuade her to accept the next walk-in.