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

That week, she was 22 to anybody who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old sufficient to consume, likely a university graduate (suggesting some measure of intelligence and conversational capability), but still young, flexible, and desirable. Valuable to a large range of tastes.

To put it simply? Successful.

Selling yourself was legal here, to minimize it to easy 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 become a product named Annika *, the name she offered to her brand-new work personality.

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

This was just momentary, she told herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished 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 pressed 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 on, when asked what she imagined discovering there, she honestly had no response. She ‘d come in for a club promotion and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an immediate that hallway didn’t result in one.

Later, when asked why she remained a full week once she understood what it had to do with, her reply came easily:.

” For the money, of course.”.

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

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Her first client, a white male in his 40s, offered 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, trembling in her four-inch heels, however perhaps it was something else. “Thank you.”.

” So, let’s get going? Don’t stress, I’ll walk you through it.”.

In the middle of the room stood what appeared 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 strange distinction: a 2nd hole, right where one’s lower upper body would line up.

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

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 could do this. She knew how to offer a back massage, no problem.

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

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He stiffened to complete mast at the extremely first brush of her fingertips.

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

She followed. She was proficient at following instructions. 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. Just slide all over me, there you go.

Her mind was blank. Annika moved and twisted, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses take over. She currently understood how to drive a male insane. However there was something left to learn.

” You can do the reverse slide. Take off your panties and climb up back up here. Program me that beautiful …” He needs to have seen the look on her face, because he included, “Don’t fret, 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. Rather, she felt absurd, uncomfortable, even traitorous.

Primarily, she felt conflicted. Since she also realized just how much power she held. This was a place where clients paid for the privilege of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a complete stranger.

” That’s a great lady. Complete me off,” he gasped. Her hands handled a life of their own, moving much 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 money in her hand. It was enough to convince her to accept the next walk-in.