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She was 27 the day she accepted her first task in the world of personal services, however they told her she could and should pass for younger.

That week, she was 22 to anybody who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old enough to consume, likely a university graduate (suggesting some step of intelligence and conversational capability), but still young, flexible, and preferable. Marketable to a large range of tastes.

In other words? Profitable.

Selling yourself was legal here, to reduce 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 understand she ‘d become an item called Annika *, the name she provided to her new work personality.

This pseudonym didn’t only protect her on paper– it protected her sense of self. She could separate, dissociate, disappear. Annika would do all the work while she viewed from a safe distance, praying each time she had actually brought out her self-respect undamaged.

This was only short-lived, she told herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and intended to accomplish afterwards.

On a cool September night in Melbourne, Australia, not-yet-Annika pressed the call button beside 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 pushed 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 left. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.

She did.

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

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

” For the cash, naturally.”.

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

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Her very first consumer, a white male in his 40s, provided 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, shivering in her four-inch heels, but 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 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 peculiar distinction: a 2nd hole, right where one’s lower upper body would line up.

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

He removed his clothes, all of it, and laid face down on the table.

Annika positioned 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.

His voice came stifled from below after numerous minutes. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach between my legs, don’t be shy.

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

” Oh, that’s ideal. 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 instructions. She stunned when he tapped her wrist.

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

Her mind was blank. Annika moved and squirmed, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take over. She currently knew how to drive a man crazy. However there was something left to learn.

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

Dealing with towards his feet she straddled him and leaned forward so, her back arched ever so somewhat, her intimate parts on complete display screen.

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

She didn’t feel tasty; she hadn’t desired to be. Instead, she felt ridiculous, uneasy, even traitorous.

But mostly, she felt contrasted. Since she also understood how much power she held. This was a place where customers paid for the privilege of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a complete stranger.

” That’s a good girl. Finish me off,” he gasped. Her hands handled a life of their own, moving 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 encourage her to accept the next walk-in.