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

So, that week, she was 22 to anybody who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old enough to drink, likely a university graduate (suggesting some step of intelligence and conversational capability), however still young, flexible, and preferable. Marketable to a wide range of tastes.

Simply put? Profitable.

Offering yourself was legal here, to minimize it to simple terms, although she didn’t understand that’s what she ‘d be doing the first day she walked in. She didn’t understand she ‘d become an item called Annika *, the name she gave to her new work persona.

This pseudonym didn’t just protect her on paper– it secured her sense of self. She could remove, dissociate, disappear. Annika would do all the work while she saw from a safe distance, praying each time she ‘d brought out her self-respect intact.

This was just temporary, she informed herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and wanted to achieve thereafter.

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 ad?”.

The buzzer rang. She pressed the door open to a long narrow hallway lit with strips of multicolour LED lights; floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined the right wall, closed doors lined the. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.

She did.

Later, when asked what she imagined finding there, she truthfully had no response. She ‘d come in for a club promo and modelling position; she ‘d known in an immediate that corridor didn’t cause one.

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

” For the cash, obviously.”.

Annika made over $7,500 in eight days. And she didn’t even need to fuck anybody.

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

” You look nice,” he said, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your lingerie is truly quite.”.

She shivered under the blast of air conditioning, trembling in her four-inch heels, however possibly it was something else. “Thank you.”.

” So, let’s begin? 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 material, with a hole at one end. This table (along with all the other ones here) had one peculiar distinction: a second hole, right where one’s lower torso would line up.

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

He removed 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 could do this. She understood how to offer a back massage, no problem.

” Yeah, that’s excellent.” His voice came muffled from listed below after numerous minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and go up to my ass. Reach between my legs, do not be shy. Gradually. Yes, easily …”.

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He stiffened to full mast at the very first brush of her fingertips.

” Oh, that’s ideal. I’m going to turn around now. You can massage my chest and keep having fun with me.”.

She complied with. She was good at following instructions. When he tapped her wrist, she startled.

” I’m gon na have you do a body slide. Take off your bra … yes … oh, you look delicious. Just move all over me, there you go.

Annika moved and twisted, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take over. There was one thing left to find out.

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

Facing toward his feet she straddled him and leaned forward so, her back arched ever so slightly, her intimate parts on full screen.

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

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

Mainly, she felt conflicted. Due to the fact that she also recognized how much power she held. This was a place where clients spent for the benefit of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a stranger, after all.

” That’s an excellent woman. Complete me off,” he gasped. Her hands handled a life of their own, moving quicker.

He grasped her thighs and released with one last sigh. And it was over.

At the end of those 45 minutes, she had $110 cash in her hand. It sufficed to convince her to accept the next walk-in.