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

That week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old adequate to consume, likely a university graduate (suggesting some procedure of intelligence and conversational ability), but still young, flexible, and desirable. Valuable to a wide range of tastes.

In other words? Successful.

Selling yourself was legal here, to minimize it to simple terms, although she didn’t recognize that’s what she ‘d be doing the very first day she strolled in. She didn’t know she ‘d end up being a product named Annika *, the name she gave to her brand-new work personality.

This pseudonym didn’t just protect her on paper– it secured her sense of self. She could separate, dissociate, disappear. Annika would do all the work while she watched from a safe distance, praying each time she had actually brought out her dignity undamaged.

This was only temporary, she informed herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and wanted 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 sounded. She pressed the door open to a long narrow hallway lit with strips of multicolour LED lights; floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined the right 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 answer. She ‘d come in for a club promotion and modelling position; she ‘d known in an immediate that hallway didn’t lead to one.

Later, when asked why she remained a complete week once she knew 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 have 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 nice,” he said, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your lingerie is really quite.”.

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? Do not stress, I’ll stroll you through it.”.

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

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

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

Annika put her hands gingerly on his shoulders and took a deep breath. She might do this. She knew how to offer a back massage, no problem.

” Yeah, that’s excellent.” His voice came smothered from listed below after a number of minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and go up to my ass. Reach between my legs, don’t be shy. Slowly. Yes, easily …”.

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

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

She obeyed. She was good at following instructions. She stunned when he tapped her wrist.

” 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.

Annika writhed and moved, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take over. There was one thing left to find out.

” You can do the reverse slide. Remove your panties and climb up back up here. Program me that lovely …” He needs to have seen the search 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 so, her back arched ever so a little, her intimate parts on complete display screen.

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

She didn’t feel yummy; she had not wanted to be. Rather, she felt absurd, awkward, even traitorous.

Mostly, she felt contrasted. Since she also recognized just how much power she held. This was a place where consumers paid for the privilege of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a complete stranger.

” That’s an excellent girl. Finish me off,” he gasped. Her hands took on a life of their own, moving quicker.

He gripped her thighs and launched with one last sigh. And it was over.

At the end of those 45 minutes, she had $110 cash in her hand. It was enough to persuade her to accept the next walk-in.