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She was 27 the day she accepted her first job in the world of personal services, but they told her she might and ought to 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 step of intelligence and conversational ability), however still young, flexible, and desirable. Valuable to a large range of tastes.

In other words? Profitable.

Offering yourself was legal here, to lower it to easy 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 brand-new work personality.

This pseudonym didn’t just safeguard her on paper– it safeguarded her sense of self. She could remove, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she enjoyed from a safe distance, hoping each time she had actually come out with her dignity intact.

This was just momentary, she informed herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and intended to achieve thereafter.

On a cool September evening in Melbourne, Australia, not-yet-Annika pushed 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 ad?”.

The buzzer rang. She pushed the door open to a long narrow corridor lit with strips of multicolour LED lights; floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined the right wall, closed doors lined the. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.

She did.

Later, when asked what she envisioned discovering there, she truthfully had no response. She ‘d come in for a club promotion and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an immediate that corridor didn’t result in one.

Later on, when asked why she remained a complete week once she knew what it had to do with, her reply came easily:.

” For the money, of course.”.

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

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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 pretty.”.

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

” So, let’s get started? Do not fret, I’ll stroll you through it.”.

In the middle of the room stood what appeared like an ordinary massage table, upholstered in a cushioned black material, with a hole at one end. But this table (together with all the other ones here) had one strange 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, good and easy.”.

He removed 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 provide a back massage, no problem.

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

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He stiffened to complete mast at the very first brush of her fingertips.

” Oh, that’s best. 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 startled.

” 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, don’t 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 slid and squirmed, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses take over. She currently knew how to drive a man crazy. There was one thing left to find out.

” You can do the reverse slide. Take off your panties and climb back up here. Program me that beautiful …” He needs to have seen the look on her face, since he added, “Don’t stress, I will not touch you there.”.

Facing toward his feet she straddled him and leaned forward so, her back arched ever so a little, her intimate parts on full display screen.

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

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

Mainly, she felt contrasted. Because she also understood how much power she held. This was a place where customers paid for the opportunity of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a complete stranger.

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

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