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She was 27 the day she accepted her first task in the realm of individual services, however they informed her she could and must pass for younger.

That week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the perfect age, you see: old sufficient to consume, likely a university graduate (showing some step of intelligence and conversational ability), however still young, flexible, and desirable. Marketable to a wide range of tastes.

To put it simply? Successful.

Offering yourself was legal here, to lower it to basic terms, although she didn’t realize 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 named Annika *, the name she provided to her brand-new work personality.

This pseudonym didn’t only secure her on paper– it secured her sense of self. She could remove, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she viewed from a safe distance, praying each time she had actually brought out her dignity undamaged.

This was only short-lived, she informed herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and intended to achieve 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 ad?”.

The buzzer called. She pressed the door open to a long narrow corridor 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 truthfully had no response. She ‘d come in for a club promo and modelling position; she ‘d known in an immediate that corridor didn’t result in one.

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

” For the cash, obviously.”.

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

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

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

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 going? Do not fret, I’ll walk 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 material, with a hole at one end. But this table (together with all the other ones here) had one strange distinction: 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, great and simple.”.

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 could 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 in between my legs, don’t be shy.

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

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

She followed. She was good at following directions. She surprised when he tapped her wrist.

” 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, do not hesitate. Put some oil on your chest. Just move all over me, there you go. Oh, infant, that’s so hot …”.

Her mind was blank. Annika moved and agonized, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take over. She currently knew how to drive a guy crazy. There was one thing left to find out.

” You can do the reverse slide. Remove your panties and climb up back up here. Program me that beautiful …” He should have seen the look on 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 so, her back arched ever so somewhat, her intimate parts on full display screen.

” Oh, tasty,” he purred once 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 plaything for guys with non reusable earnings under the very finely veiled guise of “masseuse”.

But mainly, she felt clashed. Because she also recognized how much power she held. This was a place where customers paid for the advantage of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a complete stranger, after all.

” That’s a good woman. Finish me off,” he gasped. Her hands handled a life of their own, moving quicker.

He grasped 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 persuade her to accept the next walk-in.