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

So, that week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the perfect age, you see: old enough to consume, likely a university graduate (suggesting some measure of intelligence and conversational ability), but still young, supple, and preferable. Marketable to a large range of tastes.

To put it simply? Lucrative.

Selling yourself was legal here, to lower it to basic terms, although she didn’t understand that’s what she ‘d be doing the first day she strolled in. She didn’t know she ‘d become a product named Annika *, the name she gave to her brand-new work persona.

This pseudonym didn’t just safeguard her on paper– it protected her sense of self. She might remove, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she enjoyed from a safe distance, hoping each time she had actually brought out her dignity undamaged.

This was just short-term, she told herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and intended to accomplish thereafter.

On a cool September evening 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 ad?”.

The buzzer sounded. She pressed 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 thought of discovering there, she truthfully had no response. She ‘d come in for a club promotion and modelling position; she ‘d known in an instant that corridor didn’t result in one.

Later, when asked why she remained a full 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 anyone.

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

” You look nice,” he stated, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your lingerie is really pretty.”.

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

” So, let’s start? Do not worry, 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. 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 a few of the oil. Warm it in between your hands. We’ll begin with a back massage, great and simple.”.

He eliminated his clothing, all of it, and laid face down on the table.

Annika placed her hands gingerly on his shoulders and took a deep breath. She could do this. She knew how to provide 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 go up to my ass. Reach between my legs, do not be shy. Gradually. Yes, easily …”.

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

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

She obeyed. She was proficient 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 delicious. Get on the table, that’s it, do not be afraid. Put some oil on your chest. Simply move all over me, there you go. Oh, baby, that’s so attractive …”.

Her mind was blank. Annika slid and wriggled, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses take control of. She currently knew how to drive a male insane. However there was one thing delegated discover.

” You can do the reverse slide. Take off your panties and climb up back up here. Show me that beautiful …” He needs to have seen the search her face, because he included, “Don’t stress, 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 screen.

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

Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel yummy; she had not wanted to be. Instead, she felt ludicrous, uncomfortable, even traitorous. A plaything for men with non reusable earnings under the very finely veiled guise of “masseuse”.

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

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

He gripped her thighs and released with one final sigh. And it was over.

At the end of those 45 minutes, she had $110 cash in her hand. It sufficed to convince her to accept the next walk-in.