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She was 27 the day she accepted her first job in the realm of individual services, but they told her she could and must pass for more youthful.
That week, she was 22 to anybody who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old adequate to drink, likely a university graduate (indicating some measure of intelligence and conversational ability), however still young, flexible, and preferable. Valuable to a wide variety of tastes.
Simply put? Lucrative.
Offering yourself was legal here, to minimize it to basic terms, although she didn’t understand that’s what she ‘d be doing the very first day she strolled in. She didn’t know she ‘d end up being an item called Annika *, the name she gave to her new work personality.
This pseudonym didn’t only safeguard her on paper– it protected her sense of self. She could detach, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she watched from a safe distance, praying each time she had actually come out with her self-respect undamaged.
This was only momentary, she informed herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and intended to accomplish afterwards.
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 called. She pressed the door open 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 answer. She ‘d come in for a club promo and modelling position; she ‘d known in an instant that corridor didn’t lead to one.
Later, when asked why she stayed a complete week once she knew what it was about, her reply came easily:.
” For the cash, of course.”.
Annika made over $7,500 in 8 days. And she didn’t even have to fuck anyone.
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Her first customer, a white male in his 40s, supplied some much-needed on-the-job training.
” You look good,” he said, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your lingerie is really pretty.”.
She shivered under the blast of cooling, trembling in her four-inch heels, but perhaps it was something else. “Thank you.”.
” So, let’s get going? Do not fret, I’ll stroll you through it.”.
In the middle of the room stood what appeared like a run-of-the-mill massage table, upholstered in a cushioned black material, with a hole at one end. However this table (in addition to all the other ones here) had one strange difference: a 2nd hole, right where one’s lower upper body would line up.
” Grab a few of the oil. Warm it in 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 put her hands gingerly on his shoulders and took a deep breath. She might do this. She knew how to offer a back massage, no problem.
” Yeah, that’s great.” His voice came stifled from below after numerous minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and go up to my ass. Reach 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 ideal. I’m going to turn around now. You can massage my chest and keep playing with me.”.
She followed. She was good at following directions. She startled when he tapped her wrist.
” I’m gon na have you do a body slide. Remove your bra … yes … oh, you look delicious. 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 attractive …”.
Her mind was blank. Annika agonized and slid, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take over. She currently knew how to drive a man crazy. There was one thing left to learn.
” You can do the reverse slide. Take off your panties and climb back up here. Program me that beautiful …” He needs to have seen the look on her face, since he included, “Don’t stress, I won’t 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.
” Oh, yummy,” he purred once again. “It’s a stunning view, sweetheart. Keep going.”.
Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel tasty; she had not wished to be. Instead, she felt absurd, self-conscious, even traitorous. A plaything for men with non reusable income under the very finely veiled guise of “masseuse”.
Mostly, she felt conflicted. Since she also realized just how much power she held. This was a location where customers paid for the advantage of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a complete stranger.
” That’s a great lady. Complete me off,” he gasped. Her hands took on a life of their own, moving quicker.
He gripped 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 sufficed to persuade her to accept the next walk-in.
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