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

So, that week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the perfect age, you see: old enough to consume, likely a university graduate (showing some step of intelligence and conversational capability), however still young, flexible, and preferable. Valuable to a large range of tastes.

To put it simply? Rewarding.

Offering yourself was legal here, to minimize it to simple terms, although she didn’t realize 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 offered to her brand-new work personality.

This pseudonym didn’t only secure her on paper– it secured her sense of self. She could detach, dissociate, disappear. Annika would do all the work while she viewed from a safe range, hoping each time she ‘d brought out her self-respect intact.

This was only short-lived, she told herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and intended to accomplish afterwards.

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

She did.

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

Later, when asked why she remained a full 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 have 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 great,” he stated, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your underwear is really pretty.”.

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 begin? Do not stress, I’ll stroll 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. This table (along with all the other ones here) had one strange difference: a 2nd hole, right where one’s lower torso would line up.

” Grab a few of the oil. Warm it in between your hands. We’ll begin with a back massage, simple and good.”.

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 might do this. She understood how to provide a back massage, no problem.

His voice came stifled from below after numerous minutes. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach in between my legs, don’t be shy.

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He stiffened to complete mast at the really first brush of her fingertips.

” Oh, that’s perfect. I’m going to reverse now. You can massage my chest and keep playing with me.”.

She complied with. She was proficient at following directions. When he tapped her wrist, she stunned.

” 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, don’t be afraid. Put some oil on your chest. Just slide all over me, there you go. Oh, infant, that’s so sexy …”.

Annika writhed and slid, 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 back up here. Show me that gorgeous …” He should have seen the search her face, because he added, “Don’t fret, I will not touch you there.”.

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

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

She didn’t feel delicious; she had not wanted to be. Instead, she felt ridiculous, uncomfortable, even traitorous.

Mostly, she felt contrasted. Since she also realized how much power she held. This was a location where consumers paid for the advantage of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a stranger.

” That’s an excellent lady. Finish me off,” he gasped. Her hands took on a life of their own, moving faster.

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

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