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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first job in the world of individual services, but they informed her she might and ought to pass for more youthful.

So, that week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old sufficient to consume, likely a university graduate (indicating some measure of intelligence and conversational ability), but still young, flexible, and desirable. Marketable to a vast array of tastes.

Simply put? Rewarding.

Offering yourself was legal here, to lower it to easy 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 an item called Annika *, the name she gave to her new work persona.

This pseudonym didn’t only protect her on paper– it safeguarded her sense of self. She might separate, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she saw from a safe range, hoping each time she ‘d come out with her dignity intact.

This was only short-lived, she told herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and wished to achieve thereafter.

On a cool September night in Melbourne, Australia, not-yet-Annika pressed 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 called. She pressed the door open to a long narrow hallway lit with strips of multicolour LED lights; floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined the best wall, closed doors lined the left. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.

She did.

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

” For the cash, of course.”.

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

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

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

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 start? Don’t worry, I’ll walk you through it.”.

In the middle of the room stood what looked like a run-of-the-mill massage table, upholstered in a cushioned black material, with a hole at one end. But this table (along with all the other ones here) had one strange difference: a 2nd hole, right where one’s lower torso would line up.

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

He eliminated his clothes, 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 knew how to provide a back massage, no problem.

” Yeah, that’s great.” His voice came muffled from below after numerous minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach between my legs, don’t be shy. Slowly. Yes, just like that …”.

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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 turn around now. You can massage my chest and keep playing with me.”.

She complied with. She was proficient at following instructions. When he tapped her wrist, she startled.

” 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. Just move all over me, there you go. Oh, baby, that’s so hot …”.

Her mind was blank. Annika agonized and slid, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take control of. She already knew how to drive a male insane. However there was one thing delegated find out.

” You can do the reverse slide. Take off your panties and climb up back up here. Program me that stunning …” He should have seen the search her face, because he included, “Don’t worry, I will not touch you there.”.

Facing towards his feet she straddled him and leaned forward just so, her back arched ever so slightly, her intimate parts on full display.

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

Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel yummy; she had not wished to be. Rather, she felt ridiculous, self-conscious, even traitorous. A plaything for males with non reusable income under the very finely veiled guise of “masseuse”.

However mainly, she felt conflicted. Since she likewise realized just how much power she held. This was a location where customers spent for the privilege of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a complete stranger, after all.

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

He grasped 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 was enough to convince her to accept the next walk-in.