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

That week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the perfect age, you see: old enough to drink, likely a university graduate (indicating some measure of intelligence and conversational capability), however still young, flexible, and desirable. Valuable to a wide variety of tastes.

Simply put? Successful.

Offering yourself was legal here, to decrease 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 an item named Annika *, the name she offered to her brand-new work personality.

This pseudonym didn’t just safeguard her on paper– it safeguarded her sense of self. She might detach, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she saw from a safe range, praying each time she ‘d come out with her dignity intact.

This was only temporary, she told herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and hoped to achieve thereafter.

On a cool September night in Melbourne, Australia, not-yet-Annika pushed 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 rang. 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 answer. She ‘d come in for a club promo and modelling position; she ‘d known in an instant that corridor didn’t lead to one.

Later on, when asked why she remained a full week once she knew 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 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 nice,” he said, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your lingerie is truly quite.”.

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

” So, let’s get started? Don’t stress, I’ll stroll you through it.”.

In the middle of the room stood what looked like an ordinary massage table, upholstered in a cushioned black product, with a hole at one end. However this table (along with all the other ones here) had one strange distinction: a 2nd 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 put 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 smothered from below after numerous minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and go up to my ass. Reach in 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 perfect. I’m going to reverse now. You can massage my chest and keep having fun with me.”.

She complied with. She was good at following instructions. She shocked when he tapped her wrist.

” I’m gon na have you do a body slide. Take off your bra … yes … oh, you look delicious. Get on the table, that’s it, do not hesitate. Put some oil on your chest. Simply slide all over me, there you go. Oh, baby, that’s so attractive …”.

Her mind was blank. Annika agonized and moved, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take control of. She already knew how to drive a man insane. But there was something delegated learn.

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

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

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

She didn’t feel yummy; she had not wanted to be. Instead, she felt outrageous, self-conscious, even traitorous.

Mostly, she felt contrasted. Because she likewise realized 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 stranger.

” That’s a good lady. Finish me off,” he gasped. Her hands handled a life of their own, moving much 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 sufficed to convince her to accept the next walk-in.