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She was 27 the day she accepted her first job in the world of personal services, but they told her she might and should pass for younger.

That week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the perfect age, you see: old sufficient to consume, likely a university graduate (indicating some procedure of intelligence and conversational ability), but still young, supple, and preferable. Valuable to a vast array of tastes.

To put it simply? Lucrative.

Selling yourself was legal here, to reduce it to basic terms, although she didn’t realize that’s what she ‘d be doing the first day she walked in. She didn’t know she ‘d become an item called Annika *, the name she offered to her new work persona.

This pseudonym didn’t just safeguard her on paper– it protected her sense of self. She might detach, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she saw from a safe distance, praying each time she ‘d brought out her dignity intact.

This was just momentary, she informed herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and hoped to accomplish afterwards.

On a cool September evening 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 ad?”.

The buzzer rang. She pushed 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 envisioned discovering there, she truthfully had no response. She ‘d come in for a club promo and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an immediate that hallway didn’t lead to one.

Later, when asked why she stayed a complete week once she understood what it had to do with, her reply came quickly:.

” For the money, of course.”.

Annika made over $7,500 in eight days. And she didn’t even have to fuck anybody.

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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 said, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your underwear is actually quite.”.

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

” So, let’s start? Do not stress, I’ll walk 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. But this table (along with all the other ones here) had one strange distinction: a second hole, right where one’s lower upper body would line up.

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

He removed 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 might do this. She knew how to offer a back massage, no problem.

His voice came smothered from below after several minutes. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach in between my legs, do not be shy.

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He stiffened to full mast at the really first brush of her fingertips.

” Oh, that’s ideal. 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 directions. She startled when he tapped her wrist.

” I’m gon na have you do a body slide. Take off your bra … yes … oh, you look tasty. Just slide all over me, there you go.

Her mind was blank. Annika twisted and moved, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take control of. She currently understood how to drive a man insane. There was one thing left to discover.

” You can do the reverse slide. Remove your panties and climb up back up here. Program me that lovely …” He must have seen the search her face, because he added, “Don’t worry, I will not touch you there.”.

Facing towards his feet she straddled him and leaned forward just so, her back arched ever so a little, her intimate parts on complete screen.

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

She didn’t feel delicious; she had not wanted to be. Rather, she felt outrageous, awkward, even traitorous.

However mainly, she felt conflicted. Because she likewise understood how much power she held. This was a location where customers paid for the opportunity of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a complete stranger, after all.

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

He grasped 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 was enough to persuade her to accept the next walk-in.