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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first job in the realm of personal services, however they informed her she could and need to pass for younger.
So, that week, she was 22 to anybody who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old adequate to drink, likely a university graduate (showing some procedure of intelligence and conversational ability), but still young, flexible, and preferable. Valuable to a vast array of tastes.
To put it simply? Profitable.
Offering yourself was legal here, to lower it to simple terms, although she didn’t recognize that’s what she ‘d be doing the first day she walked in. She didn’t know she ‘d end up being an item called Annika *, the name she offered to her brand-new work personality.
This pseudonym didn’t just protect her on paper– it protected her sense of self. She could remove, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she viewed from a safe distance, hoping each time she had actually come out with her self-respect undamaged.
This was just short-term, she informed herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and intended to achieve thereafter.
On a cool September night in Melbourne, Australia, not-yet-Annika pushed 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 sounded. She pushed 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 left. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.
She did.
Later on, when asked what she imagined finding there, she truthfully had no response. She ‘d come in for a club promo and modelling position; she ‘d known in an immediate that hallway didn’t cause one.
Later, when asked why she stayed a full week once she understood what it was about, her reply came quickly:.
” For the cash, of course.”.
Annika made over $7,500 in eight days. And she didn’t even need to fuck anyone.
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Her first consumer, a white male in his 40s, offered some much-needed on-the-job training.
” You look nice,” he said, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your lingerie is truly quite.”.
She shivered under the blast of cooling, trembling in her four-inch heels, however maybe it was something else. “Thank you.”.
” So, let’s begin? Don’t worry, I’ll stroll 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 strange distinction: a second hole, right where one’s lower upper body would line up.
” Grab a few of the oil. Warm it in between your hands. We’ll begin with a back massage, easy and great.”.
He removed 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 understood how to provide a back massage, no problem.
” Yeah, that’s great.” His voice came smothered from below after numerous minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and go up to my ass. Reach in between my legs, don’t be shy. Slowly. Yes, just like that …”.
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He stiffened to complete mast at the very 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 followed. She was good at following directions. When he tapped her wrist, she startled.
” I’m gon na have you do a body slide. Take off your bra … yes … oh, you look delicious. Get on the table, that’s it, don’t hesitate. Put some oil on your chest. Simply move all over me, there you go. Oh, infant, that’s so hot …”.
Annika slid and twisted, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses take over. There was one thing left to discover.
” You can do the reverse slide. Take off your panties and climb up back up here. Program me that lovely …” He should have seen the look on her face, since he included, “Don’t stress, I won’t touch you there.”.
Dealing with towards his feet she straddled him and leaned forward so, her back arched ever so a little, her intimate parts on full display.
” Oh, yummy,” he purred once again. “It’s a stunning view, sweetie. Keep going.”.
Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel delicious; she had not wished to be. Rather, she felt ridiculous, uneasy, even traitorous. A plaything for men with non reusable income under the very finely veiled guise of “masseuse”.
Mostly, she felt clashed. Due to the fact that she likewise realized just how much power she held. This was a location where clients paid for the opportunity of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a complete stranger.
” That’s a good woman. Complete me off,” he gasped. Her hands handled a life of their own, moving faster.
He gripped her thighs and launched 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 encourage her to accept the next walk-in.
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