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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first job 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 ideal age, you see: old sufficient to consume, likely a university graduate (showing some procedure of intelligence and conversational capability), but still young, supple, and desirable. Marketable to a wide variety of tastes.

To put it simply? Lucrative.

Selling yourself was legal here, to decrease it to easy terms, although she didn’t understand that’s what she ‘d be doing the first day she strolled in. She didn’t understand she ‘d become a product named Annika *, the name she offered to her brand-new work personality.

This pseudonym didn’t only secure her on paper– it secured her sense of self. She might remove, dissociate, disappear. Annika would do all the work while she viewed from a safe distance, praying each time she had actually brought out her dignity undamaged.

This was just short-term, she informed herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and wanted to accomplish afterwards.

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 pressed the door open to a long narrow hallway 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 on, when asked what she pictured finding there, she honestly had no response. She ‘d come in for a club promotion and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an instant that corridor didn’t lead to one.

Later on, when asked why she stayed a full 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 anyone.

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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 stated, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your lingerie is actually pretty.”.

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

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

In the middle of the room stood what looked like a run-of-the-mill massage table, upholstered in a cushioned black material, with a hole at one end. But this table (in addition to 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, great and simple.”.

He eliminated his clothes, all of it, and laid face down on the table.

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

His voice came muffled from below after numerous 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 perfect. I’m going to turn around 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 surprised.

” 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, do not be afraid. Put some oil on your chest. Simply move all over me, there you go. Oh, child, that’s so attractive …”.

Her mind was blank. Annika slid and agonized, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses take over. She already understood how to drive a male insane. 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 stunning …” He should have seen the search her face, since he added, “Don’t fret, I won’t touch you there.”.

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

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

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

However primarily, she felt clashed. Due to the fact that she likewise recognized how much power she held. This was a place where clients paid for the benefit of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a stranger, after all.

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

He gripped her thighs and released 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.