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

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

Simply put? Successful.

Selling yourself was legal here, to reduce it to simple terms, although she didn’t realize that’s what she ‘d be doing the very first day she walked in. She didn’t understand she ‘d end up being an item called Annika *, the name she gave to her new work personality.

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

This was only momentary, she informed herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and intended to accomplish thereafter.

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 hallway 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, 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 known in an instant that corridor didn’t lead to one.

Later, when asked why she stayed a complete week once she knew what it was about, her reply came quickly:.

” For the cash, obviously.”.

Annika made over $7,500 in 8 days. And she didn’t even have to fuck anyone.

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Her very first consumer, 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 actually pretty.”.

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

” So, let’s start? Don’t 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. This table (along with all the other ones here) had one peculiar distinction: a second hole, right where one’s lower torso would line up.

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

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

Annika put her hands gingerly on his shoulders and took a deep breath. She might do this. She understood how to offer a back massage, no problem.

His voice came smothered from listed below after a number of 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 really first brush of her fingertips.

” Oh, that’s perfect. 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. 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 yummy. Simply slide all over me, there you go.

Annika writhed and slid, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses take over. There was one thing left to learn.

” You can do the reverse slide. Take off your panties and climb back up here. Show me that gorgeous …” He must have seen the search her face, due to the fact that he added, “Don’t fret, I won’t touch you there.”.

Facing toward his feet she straddled him and leaned forward so, her back arched ever so somewhat, her intimate parts on full display screen.

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

She didn’t feel yummy; she hadn’t wanted to be. Rather, she felt absurd, uncomfortable, even traitorous.

Primarily, she felt contrasted. Since she also realized how much power she held. This was a location where consumers paid for the advantage of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a complete stranger, after all.

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

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