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

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 capability), however still young, supple, and desirable. Valuable to a wide range of tastes.

In other words? Successful.

Selling yourself was legal here, to reduce it to basic terms, although she didn’t recognize that’s what she ‘d be doing the first day she walked in. She didn’t know she ‘d end up being a product named Annika *, the name she offered to her brand-new work personality.

This pseudonym didn’t only protect her on paper– it secured her sense of self. She could detach, dissociate, disappear. Annika would do all the work while she enjoyed from a safe distance, hoping each time she had actually brought out her self-respect intact.

This was just short-lived, she informed herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and intended to accomplish 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 sounded. She pressed the door open to a long narrow hallway lit with strips of multicolour LED lights; floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined the ideal wall, closed doors lined the. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.

She did.

Later, when asked what she imagined 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 full week once she knew what it was about, her reply came quickly:.

” For the money, naturally.”.

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

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

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

She shivered under the blast of air conditioning, shivering in her four-inch heels, however maybe 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 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 a few of the oil. Warm it in between your hands. We’ll start with a back massage, great and easy.”.

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 might do this. She understood how to offer a back massage, no problem.

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

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He stiffened to full mast at the extremely 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 followed. She was good at following directions. When he tapped her wrist, she stunned.

” I’m gon na have you do a body slide. Take off your bra … yes … oh, you look tasty. Get on the table, that’s it, do not be afraid. Put some oil on your chest. Just slide all over me, there you go. Oh, baby, that’s so sexy …”.

Annika agonized and slid, 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 up back up here. Program me that lovely …” He must have seen the search her face, since he added, “Don’t stress, I won’t touch you there.”.

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

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

Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel delicious; she had not wanted to be. Instead, she felt absurd, uneasy, even traitorous. A toy for men with disposable income under the very finely veiled guise of “masseuse”.

But primarily, she felt clashed. Due to the fact that she likewise recognized just how much power she held. This was a location where clients paid for the benefit of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a stranger, after all.

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

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 was enough to encourage her to accept the next walk-in.