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She was 27 the day she accepted her first job in the world of personal services, but they told her she could and must pass for more youthful.

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 measure of intelligence and conversational ability), but still young, flexible, and preferable. Marketable to a vast array of tastes.

To put it simply? Profitable.

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

This pseudonym didn’t only safeguard her on paper– it secured her sense of self. She might separate, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she watched from a safe distance, hoping each time she ‘d brought out her self-respect intact.

This was only momentary, she told herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and wanted 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 advertisement?”.

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

She did.

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

Later, when asked why she stayed a complete week once she knew what it had to do with, her reply came quickly:.

” For the cash, naturally.”.

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

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Her very first consumer, 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 truly pretty.”.

She shivered under the blast of a/c, trembling in her four-inch heels, but perhaps it was something else. “Thank you.”.

” So, let’s get going? Don’t stress, I’ll walk you through it.”.

In the middle of the room 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 2nd 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, great and easy.”.

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 provide a back massage, no problem.

His voice came muffled from below after several minutes. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach 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 ideal. I’m going to turn around now. You can massage my chest and keep playing with me.”.

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

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

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

” You can do the reverse slide. Take off your panties and climb up back up here. Show me that lovely …” He should have seen the search her face, since he added, “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 screen.

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

Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel delicious; she hadn’t wished to be. Rather, she felt ridiculous, self-conscious, even traitorous. A toy for guys with disposable income under the thinly veiled guise of “masseuse”.

Mainly, she felt conflicted. Since she also realized how much power she held. This was a place where customers spent for the advantage of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a complete stranger, after all.

” That’s a great woman. Finish me off,” he gasped. Her hands took on a life of their own, moving quicker.

He gripped 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 persuade her to accept the next walk-in.