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

That week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old adequate to drink, likely a university graduate (indicating some procedure of intelligence and conversational capability), however still young, supple, and desirable. Valuable to a wide range of tastes.

In other words? Rewarding.

Selling yourself was legal here, to decrease it to basic terms, although she didn’t recognize that’s what she ‘d be doing the first day she strolled in. She didn’t understand she ‘d end up being an item called Annika *, the name she offered to her new work persona.

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

This was only momentary, she told herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and wished to accomplish thereafter.

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 rang. She pressed the door open up 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, when asked what she envisioned finding there, she truthfully had no response. She ‘d come in for a club promo and modelling position; she ‘d known in an instant that hallway 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, obviously.”.

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, offered 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 a/c, shivering in her four-inch heels, however perhaps it was something else. “Thank you.”.

” So, let’s begin? Don’t 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 material, with a hole at one end. This table (along with all the other ones here) had one peculiar distinction: a second hole, right where one’s lower upper body would line up.

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

He eliminated 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 give a back massage, no problem.

His voice came stifled 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 full mast at the very first brush of her fingertips.

” Oh, that’s best. I’m going to turn around now. You can massage my chest and keep having fun with me.”.

She complied with. She was good at following instructions. When he tapped her wrist, she shocked.

” 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, infant, that’s so sexy …”.

Her mind was blank. Annika moved and twisted, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take over. She currently knew how to drive a man insane. 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 should have seen the look on her face, since he included, “Don’t worry, I will not touch you there.”.

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

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

Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel delicious; she hadn’t wanted to be. Instead, she felt ludicrous, uncomfortable, even traitorous. A plaything for males with non reusable income under the thinly veiled guise of “masseuse”.

But mainly, she felt clashed. Due to the fact that she likewise realized just how much power she held. This was a location where clients paid for the privilege of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a complete stranger.

” That’s an excellent lady. Finish me off,” he gasped. Her hands handled 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 convince her to accept the next walk-in.