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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 ideal age, you see: old enough to consume, likely a university graduate (showing some step of intelligence and conversational ability), but still young, supple, and preferable. Valuable to a wide variety of tastes.

In other words? Rewarding.

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

This pseudonym didn’t only protect her on paper– it secured her sense of self. She might remove, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she saw from a safe distance, hoping each time she ‘d come out with her dignity intact.

This was just short-term, she told herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and wanted to accomplish afterwards.

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 available to a long narrow corridor 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, when asked what she thought of discovering there, she truthfully had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promotion and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an instant that hallway didn’t lead to one.

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

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

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

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

” So, let’s get started? Do not stress, I’ll stroll you through it.”.

In the middle of the room 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 peculiar difference: a 2nd 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, simple and nice.”.

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 understood how to offer a back massage, no problem.

His voice came stifled from below after a number of 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 full mast at the extremely first brush of her fingertips.

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

She obeyed. She was good at following directions. She shocked when he tapped her wrist.

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

Her mind was blank. Annika moved and writhed, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take over. She currently knew how to drive a man crazy. But 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 gorgeous …” He must have seen the search her face, due to the fact that he added, “Don’t worry, I won’t touch you there.”.

Dealing with 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 gorgeous view, sweetie. Keep going.”.

She didn’t feel tasty; she hadn’t desired to be. Instead, she felt ludicrous, uncomfortable, even traitorous.

However primarily, she felt contrasted. Because she likewise recognized just how much power she held. This was a location where clients spent for the privilege of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a stranger, after all.

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

He gripped 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 encourage her to accept the next walk-in.