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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first task in the world of personal services, but they told her she could and need to pass for younger.

So, that week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old enough to drink, likely a university graduate (showing some measure of intelligence and conversational ability), but still young, flexible, and desirable. Marketable to a vast array of tastes.

In other words? Lucrative.

Selling yourself was legal here, to reduce 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 know she ‘d become a product called Annika *, the name she offered to her new work persona.

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

This was just temporary, she told herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and intended to accomplish afterwards.

On a cool September night 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 corridor lit with strips of multicolour LED lights; floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined the ideal wall, closed doors lined the. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.

She did.

Later, when asked what she pictured discovering there, she honestly had no response. She ‘d come in for a club promotion and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an immediate that hallway didn’t lead to one.

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

” For the money, obviously.”.

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

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

” You look good,” he stated, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your underwear is actually pretty.”.

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

” So, let’s get going? Don’t stress, I’ll walk you through it.”.

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

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

He eliminated 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 below after a number of minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach in between my legs, don’t be shy. Gradually. Yes, easily …”.

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He stiffened to complete 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 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. Get on the table, that’s it, don’t hesitate. Put some oil on your chest. Simply slide all over me, there you go. Oh, infant, that’s so attractive …”.

Her mind was blank. Annika moved and squirmed, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take over. She already understood how to drive a male insane. But there was something left to discover.

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

Facing towards his feet she straddled him and leaned forward so, her back arched ever so a little, her intimate parts on full display.

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

She didn’t feel tasty; she hadn’t desired to be. Rather, she felt ludicrous, self-conscious, even traitorous.

But primarily, she felt conflicted. Because she also recognized how much power she held. This was a location where customers paid for the advantage of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a stranger.

” That’s a good girl. Complete me off,” he gasped. Her hands handled a life of their own, moving much faster.

He gripped her thighs and launched 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.