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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first job in the world of personal services, but they informed her she could and need to pass for more youthful.

That week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the perfect age, you see: old enough to drink, likely a university graduate (suggesting some procedure of intelligence and conversational capability), however still young, flexible, and preferable. Marketable to a large range of tastes.

To put it simply? Rewarding.

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

This pseudonym didn’t just secure her on paper– it safeguarded her sense of self. She could detach, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she viewed from a safe range, hoping each time she ‘d come out with her self-respect undamaged.

This was just short-term, she informed herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and wished to accomplish thereafter.

On a cool September evening in Melbourne, Australia, not-yet-Annika pressed the call button beside 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 called. 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 left. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.

She did.

Later, when asked what she imagined finding there, she honestly had no response. She ‘d come in for a club promo and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an instant that corridor didn’t cause one.

Later on, when asked why she remained a full week once she knew what it was about, her reply came quickly:.

” For the cash, obviously.”.

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, supplied some much-needed on-the-job training.

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

She shivered under the blast of a/c, trembling in her four-inch heels, but maybe it was something else. “Thank you.”.

” So, let’s get started? Don’t worry, I’ll walk 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 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 some of the oil. Warm it between your hands. We’ll begin with a back massage, easy and good.”.

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

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

His voice came muffled from below after a number of minutes. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach in between my legs, don’t be shy.

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

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

She obeyed. She was proficient at following directions. When he tapped her wrist, she surprised.

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

Annika slid and wriggled, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take over. There was one thing left to learn.

” You can do the reverse slide. Take off your panties and climb up back up here. Program me that beautiful …” He must have seen the search her face, because he included, “Don’t worry, I will not touch you there.”.

Dealing with toward his feet she straddled him and leaned forward so, her back arched ever so somewhat, her intimate parts on full display screen.

” Oh, yummy,” he purred again. “It’s a lovely view, sweetheart. Keep going.”.

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

But mainly, she felt conflicted. Due to the fact that she also understood how much power she held. This was a place where customers spent for the privilege of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a complete stranger, after all.

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