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She was 27 the day she accepted her first task in the realm of individual services, but they informed her she might and should pass for younger.
So, that week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the perfect age, you see: old sufficient to drink, likely a university graduate (showing some procedure of intelligence and conversational ability), but still young, flexible, and preferable. Marketable to a vast array of tastes.
In other words? Profitable.
Offering yourself was legal here, to minimize 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 know she ‘d end up being a product named Annika *, the name she offered to her brand-new work persona.
This pseudonym didn’t just protect her on paper– it secured her sense of self. She might separate, dissociate, disappear. Annika would do all the work while she enjoyed from a safe range, hoping each time she ‘d come out with her self-respect undamaged.
This was just momentary, she told herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and wished to achieve afterwards.
On a cool September night in Melbourne, Australia, not-yet-Annika pressed 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 pushed the door available to a long narrow corridor lit with strips of multicolour LED lights; floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined the ideal wall, closed doors lined the left. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.
She did.
Later on, when asked what she thought of finding there, she honestly had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promotion and modelling position; she ‘d known in an immediate that hallway didn’t cause one.
Later on, when asked why she stayed a full week once she understood what it was about, her reply came quickly:.
” For the money, naturally.”.
Annika made over $7,500 in eight days. And she didn’t even have to fuck anyone.
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Her first client, 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 a/c, shivering in her four-inch heels, however perhaps it was something else. “Thank you.”.
” So, let’s get started? Do not stress, 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 material, with a hole at one end. But this table (along with all the other ones here) had one peculiar difference: 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, simple 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 knew how to provide a back massage, no problem.
” Yeah, that’s excellent.” His voice came muffled from listed below after a number of minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and go up to my ass. Reach between my legs, do not be shy. Gradually. Yes, just like that …”.
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He stiffened to complete mast at the extremely first brush of her fingertips.
” Oh, that’s ideal. I’m going to reverse now. You can massage my chest and keep playing with me.”.
She obeyed. She was good 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 delicious. Get on the table, that’s it, don’t be afraid. Put some oil on your chest. Simply slide all over me, there you go. Oh, child, that’s so sexy …”.
Her mind was blank. Annika twisted and moved, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take control of. She already understood how to drive a man insane. But there was something left to find out.
” You can do the reverse slide. Remove your panties and climb up back up here. Show me that stunning …” He must have seen the search her face, due to the fact that he included, “Don’t stress, I will not touch you there.”.
Facing towards his feet she straddled him and leaned forward so, her back arched ever so slightly, her intimate parts on complete screen.
” Oh, tasty,” he purred once again. “It’s a gorgeous view, sweetie. Keep going.”.
Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel yummy; she hadn’t wanted to be. Instead, she felt ludicrous, uncomfortable, even traitorous. A plaything for guys with non reusable income under the thinly veiled guise of “masseuse”.
Primarily, she felt clashed. Because she also understood just how much power she held. This was a location where consumers paid for the opportunity of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a stranger.
” That’s an excellent woman. Complete me off,” he gasped. Her hands handled a life of their own, moving faster.
He grasped 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 sufficed to convince her to accept the next walk-in.
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