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

So, that week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the perfect age, you see: old enough to consume, likely a university graduate (showing some measure of intelligence and conversational capability), however still young, supple, and preferable. Marketable to a large range of tastes.

Simply put? Successful.

Offering yourself was legal here, to lower it to simple terms, although she didn’t understand that’s what she ‘d be doing the first day she walked in. She didn’t understand she ‘d end up being an item named Annika *, the name she offered to her new work personality.

This pseudonym didn’t just safeguard her on paper– it protected her sense of self. She could detach, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she viewed from a safe range, hoping each time she ‘d 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 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 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, when asked what she pictured finding there, she truthfully had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promotion and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an instant that corridor didn’t lead to one.

Later on, when asked why she stayed a complete week once she understood what it was about, her reply came easily:.

” For the cash, 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 client, a white male in his 40s, provided some much-needed on-the-job training.

” You look great,” he said, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your underwear is actually quite.”.

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

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

In the middle of the room stood what appeared like an ordinary massage table, upholstered in a cushioned black material, with a hole at one end. But this table (together with all the other ones here) had one strange difference: a second hole, right where one’s lower torso would line up.

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

He eliminated 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 understood how to provide a back massage, no problem.

” Yeah, that’s great.” His voice came muffled from below after a number of minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and go up to my ass. Reach in between my legs, do not be shy. Slowly. Yes, easily …”.

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He stiffened to complete mast at the extremely first brush of her fingertips.

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

She obeyed. She was good at following directions. When he tapped her wrist, she stunned.

” I’m gon na have you do a body slide. Take off your bra … yes … oh, you look tasty. 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 squirmed and moved, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses take over. She currently knew how to drive a man insane. However there was one thing delegated discover.

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

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

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

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

Mostly, she felt conflicted. Since she also understood just how much power she held. This was a place where customers spent for the benefit 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 gripped 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.