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

So, that week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old adequate to drink, likely a university graduate (showing some step of intelligence and conversational capability), but still young, supple, and desirable. Marketable to a vast array of tastes.

Simply put? Profitable.

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

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

This was just short-term, she informed herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and intended to achieve 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 ad?”.

The buzzer sounded. She pressed the door open to a long narrow corridor 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 on, when asked what she imagined discovering there, she honestly had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promotion and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an immediate that corridor didn’t lead to one.

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

” For the money, obviously.”.

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

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

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

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

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

In the middle of the space stood what appeared 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 2nd hole, right where one’s lower torso would line up.

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

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

His voice came muffled from listed below after a number of 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 extremely first brush of her fingertips.

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

She followed. She was good at following instructions. When he tapped her wrist, she surprised.

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

Her mind was blank. Annika moved and writhed, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take over. She already knew how to drive a man crazy. There was one thing left to discover.

” You can do the reverse slide. Remove your panties and climb back up here. Program me that gorgeous …” He must have seen the look on her face, since he added, “Don’t worry, I will not touch you there.”.

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

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

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

Primarily, she felt conflicted. Since she also realized just how much power she held. This was a place where customers paid for the opportunity of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a stranger.

” That’s a great girl. Finish me off,” he gasped. Her hands took on a life of their own, moving 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 cash in her hand. It was enough to encourage her to accept the next walk-in.