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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 might and need to 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), however still young, flexible, and preferable. Valuable to a wide range of tastes.
Simply put? 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 walked in. She didn’t understand she ‘d end up being a product named Annika *, the name she gave to her new work personality.
This pseudonym didn’t only secure her on paper– it secured her sense of self. She could separate, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she enjoyed from a safe distance, hoping each time she ‘d brought out her dignity undamaged.
This was only momentary, she informed herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and hoped to accomplish thereafter.
On a cool September night 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 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, when asked what she envisioned 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 was about, her reply came quickly:.
” For the money, obviously.”.
Annika made over $7,500 in eight days. And she didn’t even have to fuck anyone.
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Her very first consumer, a white male in his 40s, offered some much-needed on-the-job training.
” You look nice,” he stated, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your lingerie is actually quite.”.
She shivered under the blast of cooling, shivering in her four-inch heels, however 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 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 second hole, right where one’s lower torso would line up.
” Grab some of the oil. Warm it between your hands. We’ll start with a back massage, easy 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 might do this. She knew how to give a back massage, no problem.
” Yeah, that’s good.” His voice came smothered from listed below after a number of minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and go up to my ass. Reach in between my legs, don’t be shy. Gradually. Yes, just like that …”.
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He stiffened to full mast at the very 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 followed. She was proficient at following directions. 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 tasty. Get on the table, that’s it, do not hesitate. Put some oil on your chest. Just slide all over me, there you go. Oh, baby, that’s so hot …”.
Her mind was blank. Annika writhed and slid, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take control of. She already understood how to drive a guy crazy. However there was one thing left to find out.
” You can do the reverse slide. Remove your panties and climb up back up here. Program me that stunning …” He must have seen the look on her face, due to the fact that he included, “Don’t fret, I will not touch you there.”.
Facing toward his feet she straddled him and leaned forward so, her back arched ever so slightly, her intimate parts on complete screen.
” Oh, delicious,” he purred once again. “It’s a stunning view, sweetie. Keep going.”.
She didn’t feel tasty; she had not desired to be. Rather, she felt absurd, uneasy, even traitorous.
Mostly, she felt clashed. Because she likewise realized just how much power she held. This was a place where customers paid for the privilege of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a stranger.
” That’s a good lady. Complete me off,” he gasped. Her hands took on a life of their own, moving much faster.
He grasped her thighs and launched with one final sigh. And it was over.
At the end of those 45 minutes, she had $110 cash in her hand. It was enough to encourage her to accept the next walk-in.
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