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

That week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old adequate to drink, likely a university graduate (indicating some measure of intelligence and conversational ability), but still young, supple, and preferable. Valuable to a wide variety of tastes.

In other words? Rewarding.

Offering yourself was legal here, to reduce it to easy terms, although she didn’t recognize that’s what she ‘d be doing the very first day she walked in. She didn’t understand she ‘d become an item called Annika *, the name she provided to her brand-new work persona.

This pseudonym didn’t only secure her on paper– it protected her sense of self. She might separate, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she saw from a safe range, praying each time she ‘d brought out her dignity undamaged.

This was just temporary, she told herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and wanted to accomplish thereafter.

On a cool September evening in Melbourne, Australia, not-yet-Annika pressed 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 sounded. She pushed the door open to a long narrow hallway lit with strips of multicolour LED lights; floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined the best wall, closed doors lined the. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.

She did.

Later on, when asked what she envisioned finding there, she truthfully had no response. She ‘d come in for a club promotion and modelling position; she ‘d known in an instant that hallway didn’t result in one.

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

” For the money, of course.”.

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

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Her very first client, a white male in his 40s, offered some much-needed on-the-job training.

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

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

” So, let’s begin? Do not fret, I’ll walk you through it.”.

In the middle of the space stood what appeared like a run-of-the-mill massage table, upholstered in a cushioned black product, with a hole at one end. This table (along with all the other ones here) had one strange distinction: a second hole, right where one’s lower upper body would line up.

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

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 give a back massage, no problem.

His voice came smothered from below after a number of minutes. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach between my legs, don’t be shy.

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

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

She followed. She was proficient at following directions. She shocked when he tapped her wrist.

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

Annika slid and winced, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take over. 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 must have seen the search her face, due to the fact that he added, “Don’t worry, I will not touch you there.”.

Dealing with towards his feet she straddled him and leaned forward just so, her back arched ever so a little, her intimate parts on full display.

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

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

Mostly, she felt contrasted. Since she likewise realized just how much power she held. This was a place where customers paid for the advantage of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a stranger, after all.

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

He gripped her thighs and released with one final sigh. And it was over.

At the end of those 45 minutes, she had $110 cash in her hand. It was enough to encourage her to accept the next walk-in.