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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first task in the world of individual services, however they told her she could and ought to pass for younger.

That week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the perfect age, you see: old enough to drink, likely a university graduate (showing some step of intelligence and conversational capability), but still young, flexible, and preferable. Valuable to a vast array of tastes.

Simply put? Lucrative.

Selling yourself was legal here, to minimize it to basic terms, although she didn’t understand that’s what she ‘d be doing the very first day she strolled in. She didn’t know she ‘d become an item named Annika *, the name she provided to her new work persona.

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

This was only short-term, she told herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and intended to accomplish afterwards.

On a cool September night 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 advertisement?”.

The buzzer rang. She pushed the door open to a long narrow corridor lit with strips of multicolour LED lights; floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined the ideal wall, closed doors lined the. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.

She did.

Later, when asked what she envisioned finding there, she honestly had no response. She ‘d come in for a club promotion and modelling position; she ‘d known in an instant that hallway didn’t result in one.

Later, when asked why she remained a complete 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 8 days. And she didn’t even have to fuck anybody.

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

” You look good,” 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 possibly it was something else. “Thank you.”.

” So, let’s get started? Do not 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 product, with a hole at one end. 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 in between your hands. We’ll start with a back massage, easy and great.”.

He removed his clothes, 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 offer a back massage, no problem.

” Yeah, that’s great.” His voice came stifled from 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. Slowly. Yes, easily …”.

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

” Oh, that’s best. I’m going to turn around now. You can massage my chest and keep playing with me.”.

She followed. She was proficient at following directions. When he tapped her wrist, she startled.

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

Her mind was blank. Annika winced and moved, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take over. She already understood how to drive a male crazy. There was one thing left to learn.

” You can do the reverse slide. Take off your panties and climb back up here. Show me that gorgeous …” He needs to have seen the look on her face, due to the fact that he added, “Don’t worry, I won’t touch you there.”.

Facing towards 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 again. “It’s a lovely view, sweetie. Keep going.”.

Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel delicious; she hadn’t wanted to be. Rather, she felt ludicrous, uncomfortable, even traitorous. A toy for guys with non reusable earnings under the thinly veiled guise of “masseuse”.

Primarily, she felt conflicted. Because she also understood how much power she held. This was a location where clients paid for the opportunity of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a stranger, after all.

” That’s a good lady. 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 cash in her hand. It was enough to convince her to accept the next walk-in.