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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first task in the world of individual services, but they told her she could and ought to pass for more youthful.
So, that week, she was 22 to anybody who asked. It was the perfect age, you see: old enough to drink, likely a university graduate (indicating some measure of intelligence and conversational capability), but still young, flexible, and preferable. Marketable to a vast array 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 very first day she strolled in. She didn’t understand she ‘d end up being an item named Annika *, the name she provided to her new work personality.
This pseudonym didn’t only safeguard her on paper– it safeguarded her sense of self. She could detach, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she saw from a safe distance, hoping each time she had actually come out with her self-respect intact.
This was just momentary, she informed herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and wished to accomplish thereafter.
On a cool September evening in Melbourne, Australia, not-yet-Annika pushed 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 best wall, closed doors lined the. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.
She did.
Later, when asked what she thought of finding 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 cause one.
Later on, when asked why she remained a complete week once she knew what it had to do with, her reply came easily:.
” For the money, obviously.”.
Annika made over $7,500 in 8 days. And she didn’t even have to fuck anybody.
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Her first consumer, a white male in his 40s, supplied some much-needed on-the-job training.
” You look nice,” he stated, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your underwear is actually quite.”.
She shivered under the blast of air conditioning, shivering in her four-inch heels, but perhaps it was something else. “Thank you.”.
” So, let’s get started? Don’t stress, 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 material, with a hole at one end. This table (along with all the other ones here) had one peculiar distinction: 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 begin with a back massage, easy and nice.”.
He removed his clothing, 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 excellent.” His voice came muffled from listed below after numerous minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and go up to my ass. Reach in between my legs, don’t be shy. Gradually. Yes, just like that …”.
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He stiffened to complete mast at the very first brush of her fingertips.
” Oh, that’s best. I’m going to reverse now. You can massage my chest and keep having fun with me.”.
She obeyed. She was proficient at following instructions. She surprised 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, do not hesitate. Put some oil on your chest. Just slide all over me, there you go. Oh, child, that’s so attractive …”.
Her mind was blank. Annika moved and agonized, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses take over. She already understood how to drive a guy crazy. But there was something left to discover.
” You can do the reverse slide. Take off your panties and climb back up here. Show me that beautiful …” He needs to have seen the search her face, since he added, “Don’t stress, I won’t touch you there.”.
Dealing with toward his feet she straddled him and leaned forward so, her back arched ever so slightly, her intimate parts on full display.
” Oh, tasty,” he purred once again. “It’s a beautiful view, sweetheart. Keep going.”.
Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel tasty; she had not wanted to be. Instead, she felt ludicrous, self-conscious, even traitorous. A plaything for males with non reusable income under the very finely veiled guise of “masseuse”.
Mostly, she felt contrasted. Because she also realized just how much power she held. This was a place where customers paid for the privilege of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a complete stranger.
” That’s a great girl. Finish me off,” he gasped. Her hands handled a life of their own, moving much faster.
He gripped her thighs and launched with one last sigh. And it was over.
At the end of those 45 minutes, she had $110 money in her hand. It was enough to encourage her to accept the next walk-in.
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