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

That week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old sufficient to consume, likely a university graduate (suggesting some step of intelligence and conversational ability), however still young, supple, and desirable. Marketable to a vast array 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 strolled in. She didn’t understand she ‘d become an item named Annika *, the name she gave to her new work persona.

This pseudonym didn’t just protect her on paper– it safeguarded her sense of self. She might detach, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she watched from a safe range, praying each time she had actually come out with her self-respect intact.

This was just momentary, she told herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and wished 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 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 pictured finding there, she honestly had no response. She ‘d come in for a club promo and modelling position; she ‘d known in an instant that hallway didn’t cause one.

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

” For the cash, 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 client, 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 quite.”.

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

” So, let’s get started? Don’t fret, 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 material, with a hole at one end. This table (along with all the other ones here) had one peculiar distinction: a 2nd hole, right where one’s lower torso would line up.

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

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

Annika placed 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.

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

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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 having fun with me.”.

She obeyed. She was good at following instructions. When he tapped her wrist, she shocked.

” I’m gon na have you do a body slide. Take off your bra … yes … oh, you look yummy. Just move all over me, there you go.

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

” You can do the reverse slide. Remove your panties and climb up back up here. Program me that gorgeous …” He needs to have seen the search her face, due to the fact that he added, “Don’t worry, I will not touch you there.”.

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

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

Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel yummy; she hadn’t wanted to be. Rather, she felt absurd, uneasy, even traitorous. A toy for men with disposable earnings under the thinly veiled guise of “masseuse”.

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

” That’s a great woman. Complete me off,” he gasped. Her hands handled 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 convince her to accept the next walk-in.