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She was 27 the day she accepted her first job in the realm of personal services, but they informed her she could and should pass for younger.
So, that week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the perfect age, you see: old sufficient to drink, likely a university graduate (suggesting some procedure of intelligence and conversational ability), however still young, flexible, and preferable. Marketable to a vast array of tastes.
To put it simply? Rewarding.
Selling yourself was legal here, to decrease it to easy 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 brand-new work persona.
This pseudonym didn’t just safeguard her on paper– it safeguarded her sense of self. She could detach, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she enjoyed from a safe distance, hoping each time she had actually come out with her self-respect undamaged.
This was just short-lived, she informed herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and wished to achieve thereafter.
On a cool September evening in Melbourne, Australia, not-yet-Annika pressed 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 called. She pressed the door open to a long narrow corridor 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 on, when asked what she thought of finding there, she truthfully had no response. She ‘d come in for a club promo and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an immediate that corridor 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, naturally.”.
Annika made over $7,500 in 8 days. And she didn’t even have to fuck anybody.
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Her first customer, a white male in his 40s, provided some much-needed on-the-job training.
” You look good,” he stated, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your underwear is really pretty.”.
She shivered under the blast of cooling, trembling in her four-inch heels, but maybe it was something else. “Thank you.”.
” So, let’s get going? Don’t fret, 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. This table (along with all the other ones here) had one peculiar distinction: a second hole, right where one’s lower torso would line up.
” Grab a few of the oil. Warm it between your hands. We’ll start with a back massage, great and simple.”.
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 understood how to provide a back massage, no problem.
His voice came stifled from below after several 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 complete mast at the really 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 proficient at following instructions. When he tapped her wrist, she stunned.
” I’m gon na have you do a body slide. Take off your bra … yes … oh, you look delicious. 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 winced and slid, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take control of. She currently knew how to drive a male crazy. 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 beautiful …” He must have seen the search her face, since he added, “Don’t stress, I will not touch you there.”.
Facing towards his feet she straddled him and leaned forward just so, her back arched ever so somewhat, her intimate parts on full screen.
” Oh, delicious,” he purred again. “It’s a lovely view, sweetie. Keep going.”.
She didn’t feel delicious; she had not desired to be. Rather, she felt ridiculous, self-conscious, even traitorous.
However primarily, she felt clashed. Since she likewise understood how much power she held. This was a place where consumers paid for the benefit of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a stranger.
” That’s a great woman. Complete me off,” he gasped. Her hands handled a life of their own, moving quicker.
He gripped her thighs and released with one final sigh. And it was over.
At the end of those 45 minutes, she had $110 money in her hand. It was enough to persuade her to accept the next walk-in.
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Hampshire, England (EN)