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

That week, she was 22 to anybody who asked. It was the perfect age, you see: old enough to consume, likely a university graduate (suggesting some procedure of intelligence and conversational capability), but still young, flexible, and preferable. Valuable to a wide variety of tastes.

In other words? Lucrative.

Offering yourself was legal here, to decrease 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 a product called Annika *, the name she offered to her brand-new work persona.

This pseudonym didn’t only safeguard her on paper– it protected her sense of self. She might detach, dissociate, disappear. Annika would do all the work while she saw from a safe distance, hoping each time she ‘d brought out her dignity intact.

This was just short-lived, she informed herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and wished to achieve thereafter.

On a cool September evening 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 called. She pushed the door open to a long narrow corridor lit with strips of multicolour LED lights; floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined the ideal wall, closed doors lined the left. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.

She did.

Later on, when asked what she imagined discovering there, she honestly had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promotion and modelling position; she ‘d known in an immediate that corridor didn’t lead to one.

Later, when asked why she stayed a full week once she understood what it had to do with, her reply came easily:.

” For the cash, naturally.”.

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

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

” You look great,” he said, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your lingerie is really 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 begin? Do not stress, I’ll walk you through it.”.

In the middle of the room stood what looked 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 second hole, right where one’s lower upper body would line up.

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

He removed his clothing, all of it, and laid face down on the table.

Annika positioned her hands gingerly on his shoulders and took a deep breath. She might do this. She knew how to offer a back massage, no problem.

” Yeah, that’s good.” His voice came muffled from listed below after several minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and move 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 full mast at the extremely 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 obeyed. 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 tasty. Get on the table, that’s it, do not hesitate. Put some oil on your chest. Just move all over me, there you go. Oh, child, that’s so attractive …”.

Her mind was blank. Annika writhed and slid, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take over. She already understood how to drive a guy insane. 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 needs to have seen the look on her face, due to the fact that he added, “Don’t fret, I will not touch you there.”.

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

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

She didn’t feel tasty; she had not wanted to be. Instead, she felt ludicrous, self-conscious, even traitorous.

However primarily, she felt conflicted. Since she likewise realized just how much power she held. This was a location where consumers spent for the privilege of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a complete stranger, after all.

” That’s a good woman. Complete me off,” he gasped. Her hands took on 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 persuade her to accept the next walk-in.