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

So, that week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old enough to drink, likely a university graduate (showing some measure of intelligence and conversational capability), but still young, supple, and desirable. Valuable to a wide range of tastes.

To put it simply? Successful.

Selling yourself was legal here, to minimize it to basic terms, although she didn’t realize that’s what she ‘d be doing the very first day she walked in. She didn’t understand she ‘d become an item called Annika *, the name she gave 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 distance, hoping each time she ‘d brought out her dignity intact.

This was just momentary, she told herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and wished to achieve afterwards.

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 advertisement?”.

The buzzer sounded. She pushed 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 thought of discovering there, she honestly had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promotion and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an immediate that corridor didn’t cause one.

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

” For the cash, of course.”.

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

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

” You look great,” he said, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your lingerie is truly pretty.”.

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

” So, let’s start? Don’t stress, 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 material, with a hole at one end. This table (along with all the other ones here) had one peculiar distinction: a 2nd hole, right where one’s lower torso would line up.

” Grab a few of the oil. Warm it in between your hands. We’ll start with a back massage, simple and good.”.

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 offer a back massage, no problem.

His voice came smothered from listed below after numerous 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 perfect. 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 instructions. 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 delicious. Just slide all over me, there you go.

Annika moved and winced, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take over. There was one thing left to learn.

” You can do the reverse slide. Remove your panties and climb back up here. Program me that lovely …” He must have seen the search her face, since he included, “Don’t stress, I won’t touch you there.”.

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

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

She didn’t feel yummy; she had not desired to be. Instead, she felt absurd, uncomfortable, even traitorous.

But mostly, she felt conflicted. Due to the fact that she also realized just how much power she held. This was a place where clients spent for the benefit of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a stranger, after all.

” That’s an excellent girl. Finish me off,” he gasped. Her hands took on a life of their own, moving faster.

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