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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first job in the realm of individual services, however they informed her she could and should pass for younger.

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 step of intelligence and conversational ability), however still young, flexible, and preferable. Marketable to a vast array of tastes.

Simply put? Rewarding.

Offering yourself was legal here, to decrease it to easy 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 become an item named Annika *, the name she gave to her new work personality.

This pseudonym didn’t only protect her on paper– it protected her sense of self. She could detach, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she watched from a safe distance, hoping each time she ‘d brought out her self-respect undamaged.

This was only short-lived, she told herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and wanted to achieve afterwards.

On a cool September night in Melbourne, Australia, not-yet-Annika pressed 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 rang. She pushed the door open up to a long narrow hallway lit with strips of multicolour LED lights; floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined the best wall, closed doors lined the left. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.

She did.

Later on, when asked what she pictured discovering there, she truthfully had no response. She ‘d come in for a club promo and modelling position; she ‘d known in an instant that hallway didn’t lead to one.

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

” For the cash, of course.”.

Annika made over $7,500 in 8 days. And she didn’t even have to fuck anyone.

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

” You look good,” he said, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your lingerie is really pretty.”.

She shivered under the blast of cooling, shivering in her four-inch heels, but maybe it was something else. “Thank you.”.

” So, let’s begin? Don’t fret, I’ll walk you through it.”.

In the middle of the room stood what appeared like a run-of-the-mill massage table, upholstered in a cushioned black product, with a hole at one end. But this table (along with all the other ones here) had one peculiar distinction: a second hole, right where one’s lower upper body would line up.

” Grab some of the oil. Warm it 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 put her hands gingerly on his shoulders and took a deep breath. She could do this. She knew how to give a back massage, no problem.

” Yeah, that’s good.” His voice came smothered from listed below after a number of minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and go up to my ass. Reach in between my legs, do not be shy. Slowly. Yes, just like that …”.

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He stiffened to complete mast at the really 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 obeyed. She was good at following directions. She stunned when he tapped her wrist.

” I’m gon na have you do a body slide. Remove your bra … yes … oh, you look delicious. Get on the table, that’s it, don’t be afraid. Put some oil on your chest. Simply move all over me, there you go. Oh, infant, that’s so hot …”.

Her mind was blank. Annika squirmed and moved, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses take over. She currently understood how to drive a man insane. However there was something left to discover.

” You can do the reverse slide. Take off your panties and climb up back up here. Program me that gorgeous …” He must have seen the search her face, because he included, “Don’t fret, I will not touch you there.”.

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

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

Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel tasty; she hadn’t wanted to be. Instead, she felt absurd, awkward, even traitorous. A plaything for guys with disposable earnings under the thinly veiled guise of “masseuse”.

Primarily, she felt contrasted. Due to the fact that she also understood just how much power she held. This was a location where clients paid for the opportunity of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a stranger.

” That’s a great lady. Finish 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 money in her hand. It was enough to convince her to accept the next walk-in.