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She was 27 the day she accepted her first job in the realm of personal services, however they informed her she could and should pass for younger.

So, that week, she was 22 to anybody who asked. It was the perfect age, you see: old enough to drink, likely a university graduate (indicating some measure of intelligence and conversational ability), however still young, flexible, and desirable. Marketable to a large range of tastes.

Simply put? Profitable.

Selling yourself was legal here, to decrease it to basic terms, although she didn’t realize that’s what she ‘d be doing the first day she walked in. She didn’t know she ‘d end up being an item named Annika *, the name she gave to her new work persona.

This pseudonym didn’t just safeguard her on paper– it safeguarded her sense of self. She could detach, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she saw from a safe range, hoping each time she had actually brought out her self-respect undamaged.

This was just short-lived, she told herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and intended to achieve afterwards.

On a cool September night in Melbourne, Australia, not-yet-Annika pushed 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 sounded. She pressed the door open up 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 envisioned finding there, she honestly had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promotion and modelling position; she ‘d known in an instant that corridor didn’t cause one.

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

” For the money, of course.”.

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

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

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

She shivered under the blast of cooling, shivering in her four-inch heels, but maybe 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 space stood what looked like a run-of-the-mill massage table, upholstered in a cushioned black material, 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 torso 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 knew how to give a back massage, no problem.

His voice came smothered 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 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 playing with me.”.

She followed. She was proficient 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 yummy. Just move all over me, there you go.

Her mind was blank. Annika squirmed and slid, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take control of. She currently understood how to drive a guy insane. However there was something left to find out.

” You can do the reverse slide. Remove your panties and climb up back up here. Show me that gorgeous …” He must have seen the look on her face, due to the fact that he included, “Don’t fret, I will not touch you there.”.

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

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

Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel tasty; she hadn’t wanted to be. Instead, she felt outrageous, self-conscious, even traitorous. A toy for males with disposable earnings under the very finely veiled guise of “masseuse”.

However mostly, she felt contrasted. Due to the fact that she also realized how much power she held. This was a location where clients paid for the advantage of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a stranger, after all.

” That’s a good girl. Finish 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.