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

So, that week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old sufficient to drink, likely a university graduate (indicating some step of intelligence and conversational capability), but still young, flexible, and desirable. Marketable to a vast array of tastes.

Simply put? Rewarding.

Selling yourself was legal here, to minimize it to basic terms, although she didn’t realize that’s what she ‘d be doing the very first day she walked in. She didn’t understand she ‘d end up being a product called Annika *, the name she provided to her brand-new work personality.

This pseudonym didn’t only protect her on paper– it protected her sense of self. She might remove, dissociate, disappear. Annika would do all the work while she enjoyed from a safe range, praying each time she had actually brought out her self-respect undamaged.

This was just momentary, she told herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and intended 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 advertisement?”.

The buzzer called. She pressed the door open to a long narrow corridor 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 envisioned finding there, she truthfully had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promo and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an instant that corridor didn’t cause one.

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

” For the money, of course.”.

Annika made over $7,500 in 8 days. And she didn’t even need 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 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, but possibly it was something else. “Thank you.”.

” So, let’s get started? Do not fret, 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 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 upper body would line up.

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

He removed his clothes, all of it, and laid face down on the table.

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

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

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He stiffened to complete mast at the really 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 complied with. She was good at following directions. 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 tasty. Simply slide all over me, there you go.

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

” You can do the reverse slide. Take off your panties and climb back up here. Program me that beautiful …” He should have seen the search her face, due to the fact that he added, “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 a little, her intimate parts on complete screen.

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

Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel yummy; she had not wished to be. Instead, she felt ridiculous, uneasy, even traitorous. A toy for males with disposable income under the thinly veiled guise of “masseuse”.

However primarily, she felt conflicted. Because she also recognized how much power she held. This was a place where consumers paid for the advantage of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a stranger.

” That’s a great woman. Finish me off,” he gasped. Her hands handled a life of their own, moving faster.

He grasped 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 persuade her to accept the next walk-in.