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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first task in the realm of individual services, but they told her she could and need to pass for more youthful.

So, that week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old enough to consume, likely a university graduate (suggesting some procedure of intelligence and conversational capability), however still young, supple, and desirable. Valuable to a large range of tastes.

Simply put? Profitable.

Selling yourself was legal here, to lower it to easy terms, although she didn’t realize that’s what she ‘d be doing the first day she walked in. She didn’t know she ‘d become a product named Annika *, the name she provided to her brand-new work persona.

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

This was just momentary, she informed herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and wanted to achieve 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, when asked what she imagined finding there, she honestly had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promotion and modelling position; she ‘d known in an instant that hallway didn’t cause one.

Later, when asked why she stayed a full week once she knew what it had to do with, her reply came quickly:.

” For the money, of course.”.

Annika made over $7,500 in eight days. And she didn’t even need to fuck anybody.

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

” You look good,” he said, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your underwear is really pretty.”.

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

” So, let’s get started? Don’t stress, I’ll stroll 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 product, with a hole at one end. However this table (together with all the other ones here) had one strange difference: a 2nd hole, right where one’s lower torso would line up.

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

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 offer a back massage, no problem.

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

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

” Oh, that’s ideal. I’m going to reverse now. You can massage my chest and keep having fun with me.”.

She followed. She was good 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. Simply slide all over me, there you go.

Her mind was blank. Annika moved and wriggled, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take over. She currently understood how to drive a male insane. However there was one thing delegated find out.

” You can do the reverse slide. Remove your panties and climb up back up here. Program me that beautiful …” He must have seen the look on her face, because he included, “Don’t stress, 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 display.

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

She didn’t feel tasty; she had not wanted to be. Instead, she felt ludicrous, self-conscious, even traitorous.

However mostly, she felt clashed. Since she likewise understood just how much power she held. This was a location where clients paid for the opportunity of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a complete stranger.

” That’s an excellent woman. Finish 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 money in her hand. It sufficed to persuade her to accept the next walk-in.