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

So, that week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the perfect age, you see: old sufficient to drink, likely a university graduate (showing some procedure of intelligence and conversational ability), but still young, supple, and desirable. Marketable to a wide variety of tastes.

To put it simply? Successful.

Offering yourself was legal here, to lower it to easy terms, although she didn’t realize that’s what she ‘d be doing the very first day she strolled in. She didn’t know she ‘d end up being an item called Annika *, the name she offered to her new work persona.

This pseudonym didn’t just secure her on paper– it protected 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 ‘d come out with her dignity intact.

This was only momentary, she informed herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and intended to achieve afterwards.

On a cool September evening 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 ad?”.

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

She did.

Later on, when asked what she thought of finding there, she truthfully had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promotion and modelling position; she ‘d known in an immediate that corridor didn’t result in one.

Later, 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 anyone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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 offer a back massage, no problem.

” Yeah, that’s excellent.” His voice came smothered from listed below after several minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach between my legs, don’t be shy. Gradually. Yes, easily …”.

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He stiffened to full mast at the very first brush of her fingertips.

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

She followed. She was proficient 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 yummy. Get on the table, that’s it, don’t hesitate. Put some oil on your chest. Just slide all over me, there you go. Oh, child, that’s so sexy …”.

Annika moved and agonized, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take over. There was one thing left to find out.

” You can do the reverse slide. Remove your panties and climb up back up here. Program me that lovely …” He needs to have seen the search her face, since he added, “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 somewhat, her intimate parts on full display.

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

Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel delicious; she had not wanted to be. Rather, she felt ludicrous, uncomfortable, even traitorous. A plaything for men with non reusable earnings under the thinly veiled guise of “masseuse”.

Mostly, she felt clashed. Because she likewise recognized how much power she held. This was a location where consumers paid for the advantage of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a complete stranger.

” That’s a great woman. Finish me off,” he gasped. Her hands handled a life of their own, moving much faster.

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

At the end of those 45 minutes, she had $110 money in her hand. It sufficed to persuade her to accept the next walk-in.