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She was 27 the day she accepted her first job in the world of personal services, but they informed her she could and must pass for younger.
So, 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 step of intelligence and conversational ability), but still young, flexible, and preferable. Valuable to a wide range of tastes.
To put it simply? Successful.
Offering yourself was legal here, to decrease 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 named Annika *, the name she provided to her brand-new work personality.
This pseudonym didn’t only protect her on paper– it secured her sense of self. She could detach, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she saw from a safe range, hoping each time she ‘d brought out her self-respect undamaged.
This was just temporary, 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 pushed the door open up to a long narrow hallway lit with strips of multicolour LED lights; floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined the right wall, closed doors lined the left. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.
She did.
Later, when asked what she envisioned finding there, she honestly had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promotion and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an immediate that hallway didn’t lead to one.
Later on, when asked why she stayed a full week once she understood what it was about, 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 said, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your lingerie is really quite.”.
She shivered under the blast of a/c, shivering in her four-inch heels, but maybe it was something else. “Thank you.”.
” So, let’s get going? Do not fret, I’ll stroll 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. This table (along with all the other ones here) had one strange difference: a second 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, good and easy.”.
He removed his clothing, all of it, and laid face down on the table.
Annika positioned her hands gingerly on his shoulders and took a deep breath. She could do this. She understood how to give a back massage, no problem.
His voice came smothered from below after a number of minutes. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach in between my legs, do not be shy.
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He stiffened to full mast at the extremely 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 directions. She shocked 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 be afraid. Put some oil on your chest. Simply move all over me, there you go. Oh, infant, that’s so attractive …”.
Her mind was blank. Annika slid and squirmed, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take control of. She already understood how to drive a guy crazy. However there was one thing delegated find out.
” You can do the reverse slide. Take off your panties and climb back up here. Program me that stunning …” He must have seen the search her face, due to the fact that he added, “Don’t stress, I will not touch you there.”.
Dealing with toward his feet she straddled him and leaned forward so, her back arched ever so somewhat, her intimate parts on complete display.
” Oh, delicious,” he purred again. “It’s a lovely view, sweetie. Keep going.”.
Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel delicious; she had not wanted to be. Rather, she felt ludicrous, uneasy, even traitorous. A plaything for men with non reusable earnings under the thinly veiled guise of “masseuse”.
However mostly, she felt contrasted. Because she also understood 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 stranger.
” That’s an excellent lady. Finish me off,” he gasped. Her hands took on a life of their own, moving much 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 money in her hand. It sufficed to persuade her to accept the next walk-in.
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