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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first task in the world of personal services, but they informed her she could and must 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 (suggesting some measure of intelligence and conversational ability), but still young, flexible, and preferable. Valuable to a wide range of tastes.

In other words? Rewarding.

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

This pseudonym didn’t only secure her on paper– it safeguarded her sense of self. She might separate, dissociate, disappear. Annika would do all the work while she enjoyed from a safe range, hoping each time she had actually brought out her dignity undamaged.

This was only short-term, she informed herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and wanted to accomplish 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 advertisement?”.

The buzzer called. She pushed the door open 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 imagined discovering there, she honestly had no response. She ‘d come in for a club promotion and modelling position; she ‘d known in an immediate that hallway didn’t lead to one.

Later on, when asked why she stayed a complete week once she understood what it was about, her reply came easily:.

” For the cash, of course.”.

Annika made over $7,500 in 8 days. And she didn’t even need to fuck anyone.

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Her first consumer, a white male in his 40s, provided some much-needed on-the-job training.

” You look great,” he stated, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your underwear is truly quite.”.

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

” So, let’s get going? Do not worry, I’ll walk you through it.”.

In the middle of the room 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 2nd 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 good.”.

He eliminated his clothes, all of it, and laid face down on the table.

Annika placed her hands gingerly on his shoulders and took a deep breath. She could do this. She understood how to give a back massage, no problem.

His voice came stifled from listed below after a number of 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 perfect. I’m going to turn around now. You can massage my chest and keep playing with me.”.

She obeyed. She was proficient at following instructions. She surprised 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 wriggled and moved, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses take control of. She already knew how to drive a guy crazy. But there was one thing delegated find out.

” You can do the reverse slide. Take off your panties and climb back up here. Show me that gorgeous …” He needs to have seen the search her face, due to the fact that he added, “Don’t worry, I won’t touch you there.”.

Facing towards his feet she straddled him and leaned forward just so, her back arched ever so slightly, her intimate parts on full display.

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

She didn’t feel tasty; she had not wanted to be. Instead, she felt absurd, uneasy, even traitorous.

Mostly, she felt contrasted. Because she likewise understood how much power she held. This was a place where clients paid for the advantage of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a stranger.

” That’s an excellent lady. Complete me off,” he gasped. Her hands handled 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 money in her hand. It sufficed to encourage her to accept the next walk-in.