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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 might and ought to pass for younger.
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 (indicating some step of intelligence and conversational capability), but still young, supple, and preferable. Marketable to a vast array of tastes.
To put it simply? Lucrative.
Offering yourself was legal here, to reduce it to simple 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 a product named Annika *, the name she offered to her brand-new work personality.
This pseudonym didn’t only 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, praying each time she had actually come out with her self-respect intact.
This was only temporary, she told herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and hoped to achieve thereafter.
On a cool September evening 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 advertisement?”.
The buzzer sounded. 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 on, when asked what she envisioned finding there, she honestly had no response. She ‘d come in for a club promo and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an instant that hallway didn’t result in one.
Later on, when asked why she remained a full week once she knew what it had to do with, 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 very first client, a white male in his 40s, offered some much-needed on-the-job training.
” You look great,” he stated, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your lingerie is actually quite.”.
She shivered under the blast of cooling, shivering in her four-inch heels, but maybe it was something else. “Thank you.”.
” So, let’s begin? Don’t worry, I’ll walk 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 distinction: a second hole, right where one’s lower torso would line up.
” Grab some of the oil. Warm it in between your hands. We’ll begin with a back massage, simple and nice.”.
He eliminated his clothing, all of it, and laid face down on the table.
Annika placed her hands gingerly on his shoulders and took a deep breath. She could do this. She knew how to give a back massage, no problem.
” Yeah, that’s great.” His voice came smothered from listed below after a number of minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach between my legs, don’t be shy. Gradually. Yes, just like that …”.
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He stiffened to complete mast at the very first brush of her fingertips.
” Oh, that’s best. I’m going to reverse now. You can massage my chest and keep playing with me.”.
She complied with. She was proficient 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 delicious. Get on the table, that’s it, do not hesitate. Put some oil on your chest. Just slide all over me, there you go. Oh, child, that’s so hot …”.
Annika moved and wriggled, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take over. There was one thing left to learn.
” You can do the reverse slide. Remove your panties and climb back up here. Program me that stunning …” He should have seen the search her face, because he added, “Don’t stress, I will not 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 screen.
” Oh, tasty,” he purred again. “It’s a gorgeous view, sweetie. Keep going.”.
Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel yummy; she had not wanted to be. Instead, she felt absurd, uncomfortable, even traitorous. A toy for men with disposable earnings under the thinly veiled guise of “masseuse”.
Primarily, she felt contrasted. Due to the fact that she likewise realized how much power she held. This was a place where clients paid for the opportunity of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a stranger.
” That’s a great lady. 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.
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