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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first task in the realm of personal services, however they told her she might and must pass for more youthful.
That week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the perfect age, you see: old adequate to drink, likely a university graduate (indicating some measure of intelligence and conversational ability), but still young, flexible, and desirable. Valuable to a wide range of tastes.
In other words? Rewarding.
Offering yourself was legal here, to minimize it to basic 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 end up being an item called Annika *, the name she gave to her brand-new work personality.
This pseudonym didn’t only protect her on paper– it secured her sense of self. She might detach, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she enjoyed from a safe distance, praying each time she had actually brought out her dignity undamaged.
This was only short-lived, she informed herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and wanted to achieve afterwards.
On a cool September night 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 ad?”.
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 best wall, closed doors lined the left. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.
She did.
Later on, when asked what she pictured discovering there, she truthfully had no response. 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 remained a full week once she understood what it had to do with, her reply came quickly:.
” For the money, obviously.”.
Annika made over $7,500 in 8 days. And she didn’t even need 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 stated, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your lingerie is actually quite.”.
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 worry, 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 product, with a hole at one end. This table (along with all the other ones here) had one strange 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 begin with a back massage, simple and great.”.
He eliminated his clothes, 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 provide a back massage, no problem.
” Yeah, that’s excellent.” His voice came stifled from listed below after a number of minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach in between my legs, don’t be shy. Slowly. Yes, just like that …”.
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He stiffened to full mast at the really 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 instructions. 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, do not be afraid. Put some oil on your chest. Just move all over me, there you go. Oh, child, that’s so attractive …”.
Her mind was blank. Annika twisted and moved, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take over. She already understood how to drive a man 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 must have seen the look on her face, because he included, “Don’t fret, 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 screen.
” Oh, yummy,” he purred once again. “It’s a beautiful view, sweetie. Keep going.”.
Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel delicious; she had not wished to be. Rather, she felt outrageous, uneasy, even traitorous. A plaything for guys with non reusable income under the very finely veiled guise of “masseuse”.
Mostly, she felt conflicted. Because she also understood 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 a good girl. Complete me off,” he gasped. Her hands took on a life of their own, moving quicker.
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 sufficed to persuade her to accept the next walk-in.
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