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

So, that week, she was 22 to anyone 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, supple, and preferable. Valuable to a wide range of tastes.

To put it simply? Successful.

Offering yourself was legal here, to lower it to basic 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 become an item called Annika *, the name she gave 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 viewed from a safe range, hoping each time she ‘d brought out her self-respect intact.

This was just momentary, she told herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and hoped to accomplish 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 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 imagined finding there, she honestly had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promo and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an instant that hallway didn’t cause one.

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

” For the money, obviously.”.

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

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

” You look good,” he stated, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your underwear is truly pretty.”.

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

” So, let’s start? Don’t fret, 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 product, with a hole at one end. But this table (together with all the other ones here) had one peculiar distinction: a second hole, right where one’s lower torso would line up.

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

He removed his clothing, all of it, and laid face down on the table.

Annika put her hands gingerly on his shoulders and took a deep breath. She might do this. She understood how to give a back massage, no problem.

” Yeah, that’s great.” His voice came muffled from listed below after several minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and go up to my ass. Reach between my legs, do not be shy. Slowly. Yes, just like that …”.

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

” Oh, that’s ideal. I’m going to turn around now. You can massage my chest and keep having fun with me.”.

She complied with. She was good at following directions. 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 tasty. Get on the table, that’s it, don’t be afraid. Put some oil on your chest. Simply slide all over me, there you go. Oh, baby, that’s so sexy …”.

Her mind was blank. Annika writhed and slid, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses take control of. She already understood how to drive a man crazy. There was one thing left to find out.

” You can do the reverse slide. Remove your panties and climb up back up here. Show me that beautiful …” He needs to have seen the look on her face, since he included, “Don’t worry, I won’t touch you there.”.

Dealing with toward his feet she straddled him and leaned forward so, her back arched ever so slightly, her intimate parts on complete screen.

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

She didn’t feel delicious; she had not desired to be. Instead, she felt ridiculous, awkward, even traitorous.

But mostly, she felt conflicted. Because she likewise understood just how much power she held. This was a location where customers paid for the opportunity of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a complete stranger, after all.

” That’s a great lady. Finish me off,” he gasped. Her hands handled a life of their own, moving quicker.

He grasped 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 sufficed to persuade her to accept the next walk-in.