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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first job in the world 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 ideal age, you see: old sufficient to drink, likely a university graduate (showing some procedure of intelligence and conversational ability), but still young, flexible, and preferable. Valuable to a wide variety of tastes.
Simply put? Profitable.
Selling yourself was legal here, to lower it to basic terms, although she didn’t understand that’s what she ‘d be doing the very first day she walked in. She didn’t know she ‘d become a product named Annika *, the name she provided to her new work persona.
This pseudonym didn’t only secure her on paper– it protected her sense of self. She might separate, dissociate, disappear. Annika would do all the work while she viewed from a safe range, praying each time she had actually brought out her self-respect undamaged.
This was just short-lived, she informed herself. This didn’t specify 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 ad?”.
The buzzer called. She pressed the door open to a long narrow corridor lit with strips of multicolour LED lights; floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined the best wall, closed doors lined the left. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.
She did.
Later on, 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 known in an immediate that hallway didn’t lead to one.
Later, when asked why she remained a full week once she understood what it had to do with, her reply came easily:.
” 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, supplied some much-needed on-the-job training.
” You look nice,” he said, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your lingerie is truly quite.”.
She shivered under the blast of cooling, trembling in her four-inch heels, but perhaps it was something else. “Thank you.”.
” So, let’s begin? Do not stress, 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. However 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 a few of the oil. Warm it between your hands. We’ll begin with a back massage, easy and great.”.
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 could do this. She understood how to offer a back massage, no problem.
” Yeah, that’s good.” His voice came muffled from 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. Gradually. Yes, easily …”.
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He stiffened to complete mast at the extremely first brush of her fingertips.
” Oh, that’s ideal. I’m going to reverse now. You can massage my chest and keep having fun with me.”.
She obeyed. She was good 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 yummy. Simply slide all over me, there you go.
Annika slid and writhed, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses take over. There was one thing left to find out.
” You can do the reverse slide. Remove your panties and climb back up here. Show me that beautiful …” He must have seen the look on her face, because he included, “Don’t stress, I won’t touch you there.”.
Dealing with towards his feet she straddled him and leaned forward so, her back arched ever so a little, her intimate parts on full screen.
” Oh, delicious,” he purred once again. “It’s a beautiful view, sweetie. Keep going.”.
She didn’t feel yummy; she had not wanted to be. Rather, she felt absurd, uncomfortable, even traitorous.
But mainly, she felt conflicted. Since 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 complete stranger, after all.
” That’s a good woman. Finish me off,” he gasped. Her hands handled a life of their own, moving 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 money in her hand. It was enough to convince her to accept the next walk-in.
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Herefordshire, England (EN)