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She was 27 the day she accepted her first task in the realm of personal services, but they informed her she could and need to pass for younger.
That week, she was 22 to anybody who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old enough to drink, likely a university graduate (showing some step of intelligence and conversational capability), however still young, supple, and preferable. Valuable to a wide variety of tastes.
To put it simply? Rewarding.
Offering yourself was legal here, to minimize it to basic terms, although she didn’t understand 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 provided to her brand-new work personality.
This pseudonym didn’t only safeguard her on paper– it secured 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 only short-term, she informed herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and wished 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 pressed the door open to a long narrow corridor lit with strips of multicolour LED lights; floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined the best wall, closed doors lined the. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.
She did.
Later, when asked what she pictured discovering there, she truthfully had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promo and modelling position; she ‘d known in an immediate that corridor didn’t cause one.
Later on, when asked why she remained a full week once she knew what it had to do with, her reply came quickly:.
” For the money, naturally.”.
Annika made over $7,500 in 8 days. And she didn’t even need to fuck anyone.
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Her very first consumer, a white male in his 40s, offered some much-needed on-the-job training.
” You look good,” he said, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your lingerie is truly quite.”.
She shivered under the blast of cooling, shivering in her four-inch heels, but perhaps it was something else. “Thank you.”.
” So, let’s start? Do not stress, I’ll walk you through it.”.
In the middle of the space stood what looked like a run-of-the-mill massage table, upholstered in a cushioned black material, with a hole at one end. But this table (in addition to all the other ones here) had one peculiar distinction: a second hole, right where one’s lower upper body would line up.
” Grab a few of the oil. Warm it between your hands. We’ll start with a back massage, nice and easy.”.
He eliminated his clothes, 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 offer a back massage, no problem.
” Yeah, that’s great.” His voice came stifled from below after a number of minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach between my legs, do not be shy. Slowly. Yes, just like that …”.
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He stiffened to full mast at the very 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 followed. 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 delicious. 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, child, that’s so attractive …”.
Annika squirmed and slid, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take over. There was one thing left to discover.
” You can do the reverse slide. Take off your panties and climb up back up here. Show me that gorgeous …” He needs to have seen the look on her face, since he included, “Don’t worry, I won’t touch you there.”.
Dealing with towards his feet she straddled him and leaned forward so, her back arched ever so somewhat, her intimate parts on complete screen.
” Oh, delicious,” he purred once again. “It’s a gorgeous view, sweetheart. Keep going.”.
Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel delicious; she had not wanted to be. Instead, she felt ludicrous, uncomfortable, even traitorous. A plaything for males with non reusable earnings under the thinly veiled guise of “masseuse”.
Primarily, she felt clashed. Because she also recognized just how much power she held. This was a place where consumers paid for the advantage 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 much 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.
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