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She was 27 the day she accepted her first task in the world of individual services, but they told her she might and need to pass for younger.

That week, she was 22 to anybody who asked. It was the perfect age, you see: old sufficient to consume, likely a university graduate (suggesting some step of intelligence and conversational capability), but still young, flexible, and preferable. Valuable to a wide variety of tastes.

Simply put? Profitable.

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

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

This was just short-lived, she told herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and wanted to accomplish afterwards.

On a cool September night in Melbourne, Australia, not-yet-Annika pressed 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 advertisement?”.

The buzzer rang. She pressed the door open to a long narrow corridor lit with strips of multicolour LED lights; floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined the right wall, closed doors lined the. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.

She did.

Later, when asked what she thought of discovering there, she honestly had no response. She ‘d come in for a club promotion and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an instant that corridor didn’t result in one.

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

” For the money, obviously.”.

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

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

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

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

” So, let’s begin? Do not worry, I’ll stroll you through it.”.

In the middle of the room stood what appeared like an ordinary 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 strange distinction: a second hole, right where one’s lower upper body would line up.

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

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

” Yeah, that’s excellent.” His voice came muffled from below after several 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 full mast at the extremely first brush of her fingertips.

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

She complied with. She was good at following directions. She shocked 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, don’t be afraid. Put some oil on your chest. Just move all over me, there you go. Oh, baby, that’s so attractive …”.

Annika slid and agonized, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take over. There was one thing left to discover.

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

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

Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel yummy; she had not wanted to be. Rather, she felt absurd, uneasy, even traitorous. A toy for guys with disposable income under the thinly veiled guise of “masseuse”.

Mainly, she felt conflicted. Since she likewise recognized how much power she held. This was a place where customers paid for the benefit of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a stranger.

” That’s an excellent girl. Complete me off,” he gasped. Her hands handled a life of their own, moving faster.

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 encourage her to accept the next walk-in.