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She was 27 the day she accepted her first task in the world of individual services, however they told her she could and must pass for younger.
So, that week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the perfect age, you see: old adequate to drink, likely a university graduate (indicating some procedure of intelligence and conversational ability), however still young, flexible, and desirable. Valuable to a wide range of tastes.
In other words? Profitable.
Selling yourself was legal here, to lower it to easy terms, although she didn’t recognize that’s what she ‘d be doing the first day she walked in. She didn’t understand she ‘d become a product called Annika *, the name she provided to her brand-new work persona.
This pseudonym didn’t only secure her on paper– it safeguarded her sense of self. She could detach, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she enjoyed from a safe range, hoping each time she had actually brought out her self-respect intact.
This was just short-lived, she informed herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and intended to accomplish afterwards.
On a cool September night 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 sounded. She pushed the door available to a long narrow hallway lit with strips of multicolour LED lights; floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined the ideal wall, closed doors lined the left. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.
She did.
Later, when asked what she imagined discovering there, she honestly had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promotion and modelling position; she ‘d known in an instant that hallway didn’t cause one.
Later, when asked why she remained a complete week once she understood what it had to do with, her reply came quickly:.
” For the money, of course.”.
Annika made over $7,500 in eight days. And she didn’t even have to fuck anybody.
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Her very first customer, a white male in his 40s, provided some much-needed on-the-job training.
” You look great,” he stated, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your lingerie is truly quite.”.
She shivered under the blast of a/c, shivering in her four-inch heels, however perhaps 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 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 peculiar distinction: a 2nd hole, right where one’s lower torso would line up.
” Grab a few of the oil. Warm it between your hands. We’ll start with a back massage, easy 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 below after numerous minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and go up to my ass. Reach in between my legs, do not be shy. Slowly. Yes, easily …”.
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He stiffened to full mast at the extremely 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 followed. She was good at following instructions. When he tapped her wrist, she surprised.
” I’m gon na have you do a body slide. Remove your bra … yes … oh, you look tasty. Get on the table, that’s it, do not be afraid. Put some oil on your chest. Simply move all over me, there you go. Oh, child, that’s so hot …”.
Annika moved and agonized, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses take over. There was one thing left to find out.
” You can do the reverse slide. Take off your panties and climb up back up here. Show me that gorgeous …” He must have seen the look on her face, due to the fact that he included, “Don’t fret, I won’t touch you there.”.
Dealing with toward his feet she straddled him and leaned forward so, her back arched ever so a little, her intimate parts on complete display screen.
” Oh, yummy,” he purred again. “It’s a stunning view, sweetheart. Keep going.”.
Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel delicious; she had not wished to be. Instead, she felt ridiculous, uncomfortable, even traitorous. A plaything for males with non reusable earnings under the thinly veiled guise of “masseuse”.
Mostly, she felt conflicted. Because she also realized just how much power she held. This was a place where clients paid for the advantage of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a complete stranger, after all.
” That’s a great lady. Complete me off,” he gasped. Her hands took on a life of their own, moving faster.
He grasped her thighs and released with one final 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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