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She was 27 the day she accepted her first task in the realm of personal services, however they informed her she might and must pass for more youthful.

That week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old adequate to drink, likely a university graduate (indicating some procedure of intelligence and conversational capability), however still young, flexible, and preferable. Marketable to a wide variety of tastes.

In other words? Lucrative.

Offering yourself was legal here, to reduce 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 understand she ‘d become an item called Annika *, the name she provided to her new work personality.

This pseudonym didn’t just secure her on paper– it secured her sense of self. She might remove, dissociate, disappear. Annika would do all the work while she saw from a safe range, praying each time she had actually come out with her self-respect undamaged.

This was just momentary, she informed herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and intended to accomplish afterwards.

On a cool September evening 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 called. She pushed the door open to a long narrow corridor lit with strips of multicolour LED lights; floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined the best wall, closed doors lined the. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.

She did.

Later on, when asked what she imagined 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 hallway didn’t lead to one.

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

” For the money, of course.”.

Annika made over $7,500 in 8 days. And she didn’t even have 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 underwear is actually pretty.”.

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

” So, let’s begin? Don’t stress, 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 product, with a hole at one end. But this table (in addition to 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, good and easy.”.

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 could do this. She understood how to provide a back massage, no problem.

His voice came muffled from listed below after several minutes. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach between my legs, don’t be shy.

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He stiffened to full mast at the very 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 good at following directions. She stunned when he tapped her wrist.

” 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, child, that’s so sexy …”.

Her mind was blank. Annika twisted and moved, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses take over. She already understood how to drive a man crazy. There was one thing left to discover.

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

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

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

She didn’t feel tasty; she had not desired to be. Instead, she felt absurd, awkward, even traitorous.

Primarily, she felt conflicted. Because she also realized just how much power she held. This was a place where clients spent for the opportunity of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a stranger, after all.

” That’s an excellent woman. Finish me off,” he gasped. Her hands took on a life of their own, moving quicker.

He grasped her thighs and launched with one final sigh. And it was over.

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