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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first task in the world of personal services, however they told her she might and should pass for more youthful.
So, that week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old enough to drink, likely a university graduate (indicating some measure of intelligence and conversational ability), but still young, flexible, and preferable. Marketable to a large range of tastes.
Simply put? Rewarding.
Selling yourself was legal here, to reduce it to basic terms, although she didn’t recognize that’s what she ‘d be doing the first day she strolled in. She didn’t understand she ‘d end up being an item called Annika *, the name she gave to her brand-new work personality.
This pseudonym didn’t just safeguard her on paper– it secured her sense of self. She might remove, dissociate, disappear. Annika would do all the work while she saw from a safe range, hoping each time she ‘d come out with her dignity undamaged.
This was only temporary, she informed herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and hoped to accomplish 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 advertisement?”.
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 ideal wall, closed doors lined the. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.
She did.
Later on, when asked what she imagined finding there, she truthfully had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promotion and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an instant that hallway didn’t cause one.
Later, when asked why she remained a full week once she understood what it was about, her reply came quickly:.
” For the cash, naturally.”.
Annika made over $7,500 in 8 days. And she didn’t even have to fuck anybody.
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Her very first consumer, a white male in his 40s, provided some much-needed on-the-job training.
” You look great,” he said, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your underwear is truly quite.”.
She shivered under the blast of air conditioning, shivering in her four-inch heels, however maybe it was something else. “Thank you.”.
” So, let’s get going? Do not worry, I’ll walk you through it.”.
In the middle of the space 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 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, simple and nice.”.
He eliminated his clothes, all of it, and laid face down on the table.
Annika positioned 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 good.” His voice came stifled 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 very first brush of her fingertips.
” Oh, that’s best. I’m going to turn around now. You can massage my chest and keep having fun with me.”.
She complied with. She was proficient at following instructions. She stunned when he tapped her wrist.
” I’m gon na have you do a body slide. Remove your bra … yes … oh, you look yummy. Get on the table, that’s it, do not be afraid. Put some oil on your chest. Just slide all over me, there you go. Oh, baby, that’s so sexy …”.
Her mind was blank. Annika winced and slid, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take control of. She currently knew how to drive a guy insane. There was one thing left to find out.
” You can do the reverse slide. Remove your panties and climb up back up here. Show me that lovely …” He must have seen the search her face, due to the fact that he included, “Don’t worry, I will not touch you there.”.
Dealing with towards his feet she straddled him and leaned forward so, her back arched ever so somewhat, her intimate parts on complete display.
” Oh, yummy,” he purred once again. “It’s a beautiful view, sweetheart. Keep going.”.
Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel yummy; she hadn’t wished to be. Rather, she felt ridiculous, uncomfortable, even traitorous. A toy for males with non reusable earnings under the very finely veiled guise of “masseuse”.
Primarily, she felt contrasted. Because she likewise understood just how much power she held. This was a location where consumers paid for the benefit of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a stranger.
” That’s a good girl. Complete me off,” he gasped. Her hands took on a life of their own, moving much faster.
He gripped her thighs and launched with one final sigh. And it was over.
At the end of those 45 minutes, she had $110 cash in her hand. It was enough to encourage her to accept the next walk-in.
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