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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first task in the realm of individual services, however they told her she could and should pass for more youthful.

So, that week, she was 22 to anybody who asked. It was the perfect age, you see: old sufficient to consume, likely a university graduate (showing some measure of intelligence and conversational ability), however still young, flexible, and desirable. Marketable to a large range of tastes.

In other words? Lucrative.

Selling yourself was legal here, to lower it to basic terms, although she didn’t understand that’s what she ‘d be doing the first day she walked in. She didn’t understand she ‘d become a product named Annika *, the name she gave to her brand-new work personality.

This pseudonym didn’t just protect her on paper– it protected her sense of self. She could remove, dissociate, disappear. Annika would do all the work while she enjoyed from a safe distance, praying each time she had actually brought out her dignity intact.

This was only short-term, she informed herself. This didn’t define 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 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 rang. She pressed the door open to a long narrow hallway lit with strips of multicolour LED lights; floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined the ideal wall, closed doors lined the. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.

She did.

Later, when asked what she imagined discovering there, she truthfully had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promo and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an instant that hallway didn’t result in 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 cash, obviously.”.

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

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

” You look good,” he said, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your underwear is really quite.”.

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

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

In the middle of the space stood what looked like a run-of-the-mill massage table, upholstered in a cushioned black material, with a hole at one end. However 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 begin with a back massage, simple and good.”.

He eliminated 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 provide a back massage, no problem.

” Yeah, that’s great.” His voice came stifled from below after a number of minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and go up to my ass. Reach between my legs, don’t be shy. Slowly. Yes, easily …”.

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He stiffened to full mast at the extremely 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 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 yummy. Simply slide all over me, there you go.

Her mind was blank. Annika moved and squirmed, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take over. She already understood how to drive a male insane. But there was something delegated learn.

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

Dealing with towards his feet she straddled him and leaned forward so, her back arched ever so somewhat, her intimate parts on complete display.

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

Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel delicious; she hadn’t wanted to be. Rather, she felt ridiculous, uneasy, even traitorous. A toy for guys with non reusable earnings under the very finely veiled guise of “masseuse”.

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

” That’s an excellent lady. Complete me off,” he gasped. Her hands took on a life of their own, moving quicker.

He gripped 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 was enough to convince her to accept the next walk-in.