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She was 27 the day she accepted her first task in the world of personal services, but they informed her she might and should pass for more youthful.

So, that week, she was 22 to anybody who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old enough to consume, likely a university graduate (indicating some step of intelligence and conversational ability), however still young, flexible, and desirable. Valuable to a wide range of tastes.

Simply put? Successful.

Offering yourself was legal here, to reduce it to simple terms, although she didn’t realize that’s what she ‘d be doing the first day she strolled in. She didn’t know she ‘d end up being a product named Annika *, the name she gave to her brand-new work persona.

This pseudonym didn’t only protect her on paper– it safeguarded her sense of self. She might detach, dissociate, disappear. Annika would do all the work while she enjoyed from a safe distance, praying each time she ‘d brought out her dignity intact.

This was just short-lived, she informed herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and intended to achieve afterwards.

On a cool September evening 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 up to a long narrow corridor lit with strips of multicolour LED lights; floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined the right wall, closed doors lined the left. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.

She did.

Later, when asked what she thought of finding there, she honestly had no response. She ‘d come in for a club promo and modelling position; she ‘d known in an immediate that hallway didn’t lead to one.

Later on, when asked why she stayed a full week once she understood what it had to do with, her reply came easily:.

” For the money, of course.”.

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

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Her very first customer, 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 lingerie is really quite.”.

She shivered under the blast of cooling, trembling in her four-inch heels, however perhaps it was something else. “Thank you.”.

” So, let’s get started? Don’t stress, 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. This table (along with all the other ones here) had one peculiar difference: a second hole, right where one’s lower torso would line up.

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

He removed 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 could do this. She understood how to give a back massage, no problem.

His voice came smothered 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 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 good at following instructions. When he tapped her wrist, she shocked.

” I’m gon na have you do a body slide. Remove your bra … yes … oh, you look delicious. Get on the table, that’s it, don’t be afraid. Put some oil on your chest. Simply move all over me, there you go. Oh, child, that’s so attractive …”.

Her mind was blank. Annika moved and twisted, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses take over. She currently understood how to drive a male insane. But there was one thing delegated discover.

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

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

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

Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel tasty; she had not wished to be. Rather, she felt absurd, uncomfortable, even traitorous. A toy for men with disposable earnings under the thinly veiled guise of “masseuse”.

But mainly, she felt conflicted. Since she also understood just how much power she held. This was a place where consumers paid for the opportunity of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a complete stranger, after all.

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

He gripped her thighs and launched 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 convince her to accept the next walk-in.