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She was 27 the day she accepted her first job in the realm of personal services, however they told her she might and ought to pass for more youthful.

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 (suggesting some measure of intelligence and conversational capability), however still young, supple, and preferable. Marketable to a vast array of tastes.

In other words? Successful.

Selling yourself was legal here, to decrease it to easy terms, although she didn’t realize that’s what she ‘d be doing the first day she walked in. She didn’t know she ‘d become an item named Annika *, the name she offered 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 enjoyed from a safe range, praying each time she ‘d brought out her self-respect intact.

This was just short-lived, she informed herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and intended to accomplish thereafter.

On a cool September night in Melbourne, Australia, not-yet-Annika pushed 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 hallway 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, when asked what she envisioned finding there, she honestly had no response. She ‘d come in for a club promotion and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an immediate that hallway didn’t result in one.

Later on, when asked why she remained 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 eight days. And she didn’t even have to fuck anyone.

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

” You look nice,” he stated, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your lingerie is actually quite.”.

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

” So, let’s begin? Do not worry, I’ll stroll you through it.”.

In the middle of the space stood what looked like an ordinary massage table, upholstered in a cushioned black material, with a hole at one end. But this table (together with all the other ones here) had one peculiar difference: a second hole, right where one’s lower torso would line up.

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

He eliminated 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 might do this. She knew how to offer a back massage, no problem.

His voice came smothered from below after a number of 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 really first brush of her fingertips.

” Oh, that’s perfect. I’m going to turn around now. You can massage my chest and keep playing with me.”.

She followed. She was proficient at following directions. When he tapped her wrist, she stunned.

” 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, baby, that’s so attractive …”.

Her mind was blank. Annika moved and winced, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses take control of. She currently knew how to drive a man insane. There was one thing left to find out.

” You can do the reverse slide. Remove your panties and climb back up here. Show me that stunning …” He needs to have seen the search her face, because he included, “Don’t stress, I will not touch you there.”.

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

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

She didn’t feel delicious; she had not desired to be. Instead, she felt absurd, awkward, even traitorous.

Mostly, she felt contrasted. Because she also realized how much power she held. This was a place where customers paid for the advantage 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 much faster.

He gripped her thighs and released with one last 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.