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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first job in the realm of individual services, but they informed her she might and must 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 step of intelligence and conversational ability), but still young, supple, and preferable. Marketable to a vast array of tastes.

To put it simply? Successful.

Offering yourself was legal here, to minimize it to simple terms, although she didn’t recognize that’s what she ‘d be doing the first day she walked in. She didn’t understand she ‘d end up being an item named Annika *, the name she provided to her new work persona.

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

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

The buzzer called. She pressed 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. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.

She did.

Later on, when asked what she thought of finding there, she truthfully had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promotion and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an instant that hallway didn’t lead to one.

Later, when asked why she stayed 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 anybody.

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Her very first client, a white male in his 40s, offered some much-needed on-the-job training.

” You look nice,” he said, 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, however perhaps it was something else. “Thank you.”.

” So, let’s start? Don’t fret, I’ll stroll you through it.”.

In the middle of the space 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 strange distinction: a 2nd 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 simple.”.

He removed his clothing, all of it, and laid face down on the table.

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

His voice came stifled from listed below after numerous minutes. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach between my legs, don’t be shy.

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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 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 yummy. Get on the table, that’s it, don’t be afraid. Put some oil on your chest. Just move all over me, there you go. Oh, infant, that’s so sexy …”.

Annika moved and wriggled, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take over. There was one thing left to find out.

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

Dealing with toward his feet she straddled him and leaned forward so, her back arched ever so slightly, her intimate parts on full display screen.

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

She didn’t feel tasty; she hadn’t desired to be. Instead, she felt ridiculous, awkward, even traitorous.

Primarily, she felt conflicted. Due to the fact that she also understood just how much power she held. This was a location where customers paid for the opportunity of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a stranger.

” That’s a good woman. Complete me off,” he gasped. Her hands handled a life of their own, moving 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 sufficed to encourage her to accept the next walk-in.