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She was 27 the day she accepted her first job in the realm of individual services, however they told her she could and should pass for younger.

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 procedure of intelligence and conversational ability), but still young, flexible, and desirable. Valuable to a wide variety of tastes.

To put it simply? Successful.

Offering yourself was legal here, to decrease it to simple terms, although she didn’t realize that’s what she ‘d be doing the very first day she walked in. She didn’t know she ‘d become an item named Annika *, the name she offered to her brand-new work persona.

This pseudonym didn’t only protect her on paper– it safeguarded her sense of self. She might detach, dissociate, disappear. Annika would do all the work while she watched from a safe range, praying each time she ‘d brought out her dignity intact.

This was only momentary, she told herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and intended to achieve thereafter.

On a cool September night 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 sounded. She pressed the door open to a long narrow corridor 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 on, when asked what she envisioned discovering there, she honestly had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promo and modelling position; she ‘d known in an instant that hallway didn’t result in one.

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

” For the money, naturally.”.

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

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Her first customer, a white male in his 40s, offered some much-needed on-the-job training.

” You look good,” he said, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your underwear is truly 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 stress, I’ll stroll you through it.”.

In the middle of the room stood what looked 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 second hole, right where one’s lower upper body would line up.

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

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 offer a back massage, no problem.

” Yeah, that’s good.” His voice came muffled from below after numerous minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach in between my legs, do not be shy. Gradually. Yes, easily …”.

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He stiffened to full mast at the very 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 complied with. 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. Get on the table, that’s it, don’t hesitate. Put some oil on your chest. Simply move all over me, there you go. Oh, infant, that’s so hot …”.

Her mind was blank. Annika writhed and slid, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses take over. She currently knew how to drive a male insane. However there was one thing left to learn.

” You can do the reverse slide. Remove your panties and climb up back up here. Program me that stunning …” He must have seen the search her face, since he included, “Don’t worry, I won’t touch you there.”.

Facing toward his feet she straddled him and leaned forward so, her back arched ever so slightly, her intimate parts on complete display.

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

Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel tasty; she hadn’t wanted to be. Instead, she felt ridiculous, uneasy, even traitorous. A plaything for guys with non reusable income under the thinly veiled guise of “masseuse”.

But mainly, she felt contrasted. Since she also understood how much power she held. This was a location where clients paid for the opportunity of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a stranger.

” That’s a good girl. Complete me off,” he gasped. Her hands took on a life of their own, moving much faster.

He gripped her thighs and launched with one last sigh. And it was over.

At the end of those 45 minutes, she had $110 money in her hand. It was enough to persuade her to accept the next walk-in.