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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first task in the world of individual services, however they informed her she could and need to pass for younger.

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

Simply put? Successful.

Offering yourself was legal here, to decrease it to basic 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 become an item named Annika *, the name she offered to her brand-new work persona.

This pseudonym didn’t only protect her on paper– it secured her sense of self. She might separate, dissociate, disappear. Annika would do all the work while she viewed from a safe range, praying each time she ‘d brought out her dignity undamaged.

This was only momentary, she informed herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and wanted to achieve 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 sounded. 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 left. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.

She did.

Later, when asked what she imagined discovering there, she truthfully had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promotion and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an instant that hallway didn’t cause one.

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

” For the money, naturally.”.

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

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

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

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

” So, let’s begin? Don’t worry, I’ll walk you through it.”.

In the middle of the space stood what looked like an ordinary massage table, upholstered in a cushioned black product, with a hole at one end. This table (along with all the other ones here) had one peculiar difference: a second hole, right where one’s lower upper body would line up.

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

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 knew how to offer a back massage, no problem.

” Yeah, that’s great.” His voice came stifled from below after numerous minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach between my legs, do not be shy. Gradually. 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 playing with me.”.

She complied with. She was proficient at following directions. She startled when he tapped her wrist.

” I’m gon na have you do a body slide. Take off your bra … yes … oh, you look delicious. Just move all over me, there you go.

Her mind was blank. Annika slid and writhed, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses take over. She currently understood how to drive a male insane. There was one thing left to learn.

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

Dealing with toward his feet she straddled him and leaned forward so, her back arched ever so slightly, her intimate parts on full display.

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

Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel delicious; she hadn’t wished to be. Instead, she felt outrageous, uncomfortable, even traitorous. A plaything for men with disposable earnings under the thinly veiled guise of “masseuse”.

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

” That’s an excellent lady. Finish me off,” he gasped. Her hands took on a life of their own, moving much 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 sufficed to encourage her to accept the next walk-in.