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

That week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the perfect age, you see: old sufficient to consume, likely a university graduate (indicating some step of intelligence and conversational ability), but still young, supple, and preferable. Marketable to a wide range of tastes.

To put it simply? Rewarding.

Selling yourself was legal here, to lower 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 end up being an item named Annika *, the name she gave to her new work persona.

This pseudonym didn’t only secure her on paper– it protected her sense of self. She could remove, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she watched from a safe range, hoping each time she ‘d brought out her self-respect undamaged.

This was only momentary, she told herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and wanted to achieve afterwards.

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 ad?”.

The buzzer rang. She pressed 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 left. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.

She did.

Later on, when asked what she thought of discovering there, she honestly had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promotion and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an instant that hallway didn’t result in one.

Later, when asked why she stayed a complete 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 need to fuck anyone.

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

” You look nice,” he stated, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your lingerie is really pretty.”.

She shivered under the blast of a/c, shivering in her four-inch heels, but possibly it was something else. “Thank you.”.

” So, let’s start? Don’t stress, I’ll walk 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. This table (along with all the other ones here) had one peculiar distinction: a second hole, right where one’s lower upper body would line up.

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

He eliminated 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 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 move up to my ass. Reach in between my legs, do not be shy. Gradually. Yes, just like that …”.

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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 complied with. She was proficient at following directions. When he tapped her wrist, she stunned.

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

Annika wriggled and moved, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses take over. There was one thing left to discover.

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

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

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

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

However mainly, she felt clashed. Due to the fact that she also understood how much power she held. This was a location where customers spent for the privilege of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a stranger, after all.

” That’s an excellent lady. Finish me off,” he gasped. Her hands took on a life of their own, moving much faster.

He grasped 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 was enough to encourage her to accept the next walk-in.