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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 ought to pass for more youthful.

So, 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 capability), however still young, flexible, and desirable. Marketable to a large range of tastes.

To put it simply? Rewarding.

Selling yourself was legal here, to minimize it to simple 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 a product called Annika *, the name she provided to her new work personality.

This pseudonym didn’t only secure her on paper– it safeguarded her sense of self. She might separate, dissociate, disappear. Annika would do all the work while she watched from a safe distance, praying each time she had actually brought out her self-respect intact.

This was only short-lived, she informed herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and wanted 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 available to a long narrow hallway lit with strips of multicolour LED lights; floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined the ideal wall, closed doors lined the left. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.

She did.

Later, when asked what she envisioned finding there, she honestly had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promotion and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an instant that hallway didn’t cause one.

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

” 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 first client, a white male in his 40s, offered some much-needed on-the-job training.

” You look nice,” he said, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your lingerie is really pretty.”.

She shivered under the blast of a/c, trembling in her four-inch heels, but perhaps 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 appeared like an ordinary massage table, upholstered in a cushioned black product, with a hole at one end. However this table (together with all the other ones here) had one strange 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 start with a back massage, great and simple.”.

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

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

His voice came smothered from below after numerous 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 perfect. I’m going to reverse now. You can massage my chest and keep having fun with me.”.

She obeyed. She was proficient at following directions. When he tapped her wrist, she surprised.

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

Her mind was blank. Annika squirmed and moved, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take control of. She already understood how to drive a guy insane. 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 lovely …” He needs to have seen the search her face, since he included, “Don’t stress, I will not touch you there.”.

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

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

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

However primarily, she felt conflicted. Since she likewise recognized just how much power she held. This was a location where clients paid for the privilege of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a stranger.

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

He gripped her thighs and launched with one final sigh. And it was over.

At the end of those 45 minutes, she had $110 money in her hand. It sufficed to convince her to accept the next walk-in.