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She was 27 the day she accepted her first job in the realm of personal services, but they told her she could and ought to pass for more youthful.

So, that week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old enough to drink, likely a university graduate (indicating some procedure of intelligence and conversational ability), however still young, flexible, and preferable. Valuable to a wide variety of tastes.

In other words? Profitable.

Selling yourself was legal here, to lower it to simple terms, although she didn’t realize that’s what she ‘d be doing the first day she strolled in. She didn’t know she ‘d become a product called Annika *, the name she offered to her new work personality.

This pseudonym didn’t just secure her on paper– it protected her sense of self. She could separate, dissociate, disappear. Annika would do all the work while she watched from a safe range, praying each time she had actually brought out her dignity undamaged.

This was just temporary, she informed herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and intended to achieve afterwards.

On a cool September evening in Melbourne, Australia, not-yet-Annika pushed 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 advertisement?”.

The buzzer called. She pushed 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 thought of finding 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 result in one.

Later, when asked why she remained a complete week once she understood 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 consumer, a white male in his 40s, provided some much-needed on-the-job training.

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

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

” So, let’s begin? 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 product, 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 some of the oil. Warm it in between your hands. We’ll start with a back massage, simple and great.”.

He eliminated his clothing, 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 great.” His voice came stifled from listed below after several minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and go up to my ass. Reach between my legs, do not 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 reverse now. You can massage my chest and keep playing with me.”.

She complied with. She was proficient 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 tasty. Get on the table, that’s it, do not hesitate. Put some oil on your chest. Simply move all over me, there you go. Oh, baby, that’s so sexy …”.

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 man crazy. There was one thing left to learn.

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

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

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

Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel yummy; she had not wanted to be. Rather, she felt ridiculous, self-conscious, even traitorous. A plaything for men with disposable income under the very finely veiled guise of “masseuse”.

Primarily, she felt conflicted. Since she likewise recognized just how much power she held. This was a place where customers spent for the benefit of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a stranger, after all.

” That’s an excellent woman. Complete me off,” he gasped. Her hands took on a life of their own, moving quicker.

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

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