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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first task in the world of personal services, but they informed her she might and ought to pass for more youthful.

That week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the perfect age, you see: old adequate to drink, likely a university graduate (showing some step of intelligence and conversational capability), but still young, flexible, and preferable. Marketable to a large range of tastes.

To put it simply? Rewarding.

Selling yourself was legal here, to reduce it to simple terms, although she didn’t recognize that’s what she ‘d be doing the very first day she walked in. She didn’t know she ‘d end up being a product called Annika *, the name she offered to her brand-new work personality.

This pseudonym didn’t just safeguard her on paper– it protected her sense of self. She could remove, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she watched from a safe range, hoping each time she had actually come out with her self-respect intact.

This was just short-term, she told herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and wished to achieve 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 advertisement?”.

The buzzer called. 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 on, when asked what she thought of discovering there, she honestly had no response. She ‘d come in for a club promotion and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an instant that hallway didn’t result in one.

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

” For the money, obviously.”.

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

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

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

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

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

In the middle of the space stood what appeared like an ordinary 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 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 begin with a back massage, easy and nice.”.

He eliminated 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 muffled from listed below after numerous minutes. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach 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 having fun with me.”.

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

” I’m gon na have you do a body slide. Take off your bra … yes … oh, you look yummy. Get on the table, that’s it, don’t be afraid. Put some oil on your chest. Just move all over me, there you go. Oh, baby, that’s so sexy …”.

Annika moved and winced, 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 up back up here. Program me that beautiful …” He must have seen the search her face, because he added, “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 a little, her intimate parts on complete display.

” 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 had not wanted to be. Rather, she felt absurd, self-conscious, even traitorous. A toy for males with non reusable income under the very finely veiled guise of “masseuse”.

However mainly, she felt conflicted. Because she also realized how much power she held. This was a location where clients paid for the opportunity of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a complete stranger, after all.

” That’s an excellent woman. Complete me off,” he gasped. Her hands took on a life of their own, moving 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 persuade her to accept the next walk-in.