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

That week, she was 22 to anybody who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old adequate to consume, likely a university graduate (indicating some procedure of intelligence and conversational ability), however still young, flexible, and desirable. Marketable to a vast array of tastes.

To put it simply? Rewarding.

Selling yourself was legal here, to decrease 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 know she ‘d end up being a product called Annika *, the name she offered to her new work personality.

This pseudonym didn’t just secure her on paper– it secured her sense of self. She might remove, dissociate, disappear. Annika would do all the work while she viewed from a safe distance, hoping each time she had actually brought out her self-respect undamaged.

This was just short-lived, she told herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and intended to achieve afterwards.

On a cool September night 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 ad?”.

The buzzer called. 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 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 cause one.

Later on, when asked why she remained a full week once she understood what it had to do with, her reply came easily:.

” For the cash, of course.”.

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

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Her very first client, a white male in his 40s, supplied some much-needed on-the-job training.

” You look nice,” he stated, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your underwear is truly pretty.”.

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

” So, let’s get started? Don’t 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 peculiar difference: a second hole, right where one’s lower upper body would line up.

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

He removed 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 understood how to offer a back massage, no problem.

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

She complied with. She was proficient at following directions. 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 tasty. Just slide all over me, there you go.

Her mind was blank. Annika slid and agonized, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses take over. She already knew how to drive a male crazy. There was one thing left to learn.

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

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

” Oh, tasty,” he purred once again. “It’s a beautiful view, sweetheart. Keep going.”.

Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel delicious; she hadn’t wanted to be. Rather, she felt outrageous, uncomfortable, even traitorous. A toy for men with non reusable earnings under the very finely veiled guise of “masseuse”.

Mainly, she felt clashed. Because she also understood just how much power she held. This was a place where customers paid for the benefit of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a stranger.

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

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 was enough to encourage her to accept the next walk-in.