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She was 27 the day she accepted her first task in the world of individual services, but they told her she could and must pass for more youthful.

That week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old sufficient to consume, likely a university graduate (suggesting some measure of intelligence and conversational capability), but still young, supple, and preferable. Marketable to a wide range of tastes.

In other words? Lucrative.

Selling yourself was legal here, to lower it to easy terms, although she didn’t understand that’s what she ‘d be doing the very first day she strolled in. She didn’t understand she ‘d end up being an item called Annika *, the name she gave to her new work persona.

This pseudonym didn’t just secure her on paper– it secured her sense of self. She could separate, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she saw from a safe distance, praying each time she had actually come out with her dignity undamaged.

This was only short-term, she told herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and wished to accomplish thereafter.

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 called. She pressed the door open up to a long narrow corridor lit with strips of multicolour LED lights; floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined the right wall, closed doors lined the left. “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 promotion and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an instant that corridor didn’t result in one.

Later, when asked why she remained 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 eight days. And she didn’t even need to fuck anyone.

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Her very first consumer, a white male in his 40s, supplied some much-needed on-the-job training.

” You look nice,” he stated, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your underwear is actually quite.”.

She shivered under the blast of air conditioning, shivering in her four-inch heels, but perhaps 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 appeared like a run-of-the-mill massage table, upholstered in a cushioned black product, with a hole at one end. However this table (in addition to all the other ones here) had one peculiar difference: a second 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, simple and great.”.

He removed his clothing, 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 understood how to offer a back massage, no problem.

His voice came stifled from below after several minutes. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach in between my legs, do not be shy.

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He stiffened to complete mast at the very 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 complied with. She was good at following instructions. 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 delicious. Simply slide all over me, there you go.

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

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

Facing towards his feet she straddled him and leaned forward just so, her back arched ever so a little, her intimate parts on full display.

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

She didn’t feel tasty; she hadn’t wanted to be. Rather, she felt outrageous, awkward, even traitorous.

However mainly, she felt contrasted. Due to the fact that she also recognized how much power she held. This was a place where consumers paid for the privilege of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a stranger.

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

He gripped her thighs and released 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.