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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first task in the realm of individual services, but they told her she might and ought to 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 (indicating some procedure of intelligence and conversational capability), however still young, flexible, and preferable. Valuable to a wide range of tastes.

In other words? Lucrative.

Selling yourself was legal here, to reduce it to basic terms, although she didn’t realize that’s what she ‘d be doing the first day she walked in. She didn’t understand she ‘d end up being a product named Annika *, the name she gave to her new work persona.

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

This was just short-lived, she informed herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and intended to achieve thereafter.

On a cool September night 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 called. 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, when asked what she envisioned discovering there, she honestly had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promo and modelling position; she ‘d known in an immediate that corridor didn’t cause one.

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

” For the cash, naturally.”.

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

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Her first consumer, 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, trembling in her four-inch heels, but maybe it was something else. “Thank you.”.

” So, let’s start? Do not stress, I’ll walk you through it.”.

In the middle of the space stood what looked 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 torso would line up.

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

He eliminated 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 might do this. She understood how to give a back massage, no problem.

His voice came stifled from listed below after numerous minutes. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach between my legs, don’t be shy.

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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 reverse now. You can massage my chest and keep playing with me.”.

She obeyed. She was good at following directions. She surprised when he tapped her wrist.

” I’m gon na have you do a body slide. Take off your bra … yes … oh, you look tasty. Get on the table, that’s it, don’t be afraid. Put some oil on your chest. Just slide all over me, there you go. Oh, child, that’s so sexy …”.

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

” You can do the reverse slide. Remove your panties and climb back up here. Show me that lovely …” He should have seen the search her face, because he added, “Don’t stress, I won’t touch you there.”.

Dealing with towards his feet she straddled him and leaned forward just so, her back arched ever so slightly, her intimate parts on complete display screen.

” Oh, delicious,” 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 wished to be. Instead, she felt ludicrous, uncomfortable, even traitorous. A plaything for guys with disposable earnings under the thinly veiled guise of “masseuse”.

However mostly, she felt contrasted. Due to the fact that she likewise understood how much power she held. This was a place where customers paid for the opportunity of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a complete stranger.

” That’s an excellent lady. Complete me off,” he gasped. Her hands handled a life of their own, moving quicker.

He grasped her thighs and released with one last sigh. And it was over.

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