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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first job in the realm of individual services, but they informed her she might and must pass for more youthful.

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

To put it simply? Successful.

Offering yourself was legal here, to lower it to simple terms, although she didn’t understand that’s what she ‘d be doing the first day she walked in. She didn’t know she ‘d become an item named Annika *, the name she provided to her brand-new work persona.

This pseudonym didn’t only secure her on paper– it safeguarded her sense of self. She might remove, dissociate, disappear. Annika would do all the work while she watched from a safe distance, hoping each time she had actually come out with her dignity undamaged.

This was just temporary, she told herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and wanted 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 pushed the door open up to a long narrow hallway lit with strips of multicolour LED lights; floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined the right wall, closed doors lined the left. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.

She did.

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

” For the cash, naturally.”.

Annika made over $7,500 in 8 days. And she didn’t even have 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 underwear is really quite.”.

She shivered under the blast of air conditioning, shivering in her four-inch heels, but possibly it was something else. “Thank you.”.

” So, let’s get started? Do not stress, 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 product, with a hole at one end. This table (along with all the other ones here) had one peculiar distinction: a 2nd hole, right where one’s lower torso would line up.

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

He eliminated his clothes, 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 give a back massage, no problem.

His voice came muffled from listed below after several minutes. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach between my legs, do not be shy.

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He stiffened to complete 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 surprised.

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

Her mind was blank. Annika twisted and moved, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take control of. She already knew how to drive a male crazy. There was one thing left to find out.

” You can do the reverse slide. Remove your panties and climb up back up here. Show me that lovely …” He must have seen the search her face, because he added, “Don’t stress, I won’t touch you there.”.

Dealing with toward his feet she straddled him and leaned forward just so, her back arched ever so a little, her intimate parts on full display.

” Oh, yummy,” he purred once again. “It’s a beautiful view, sweetheart. Keep going.”.

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

However mainly, she felt contrasted. Due to the fact that she likewise understood just how much power she held. This was a place where customers spent for the opportunity of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a stranger, after all.

” That’s a great woman. Finish me off,” he gasped. Her hands took on 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 money in her hand. It was enough to convince her to accept the next walk-in.