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She was 27 the day she accepted her first task in the world of individual services, however they informed her she could and must pass for more youthful.
That week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old adequate to drink, likely a university graduate (suggesting some step of intelligence and conversational capability), but still young, supple, and desirable. Valuable to a vast array of tastes.
In other words? Lucrative.
Selling yourself was legal here, to lower it to basic 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 end up being a product called Annika *, the name she provided to her brand-new work personality.
This pseudonym didn’t just secure her on paper– it secured her sense of self. She could remove, dissociate, disappear. Annika would do all the work while she saw from a safe range, hoping each time she ‘d brought out her self-respect undamaged.
This was just short-term, she informed herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and wanted to achieve afterwards.
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 rang. She pushed the door available to a long narrow corridor lit with strips of multicolour LED lights; floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined the best wall, closed doors lined the left. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.
She did.
Later, when asked what she envisioned discovering there, she truthfully had no response. She ‘d come in for a club promo and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an instant that corridor didn’t cause one.
Later, when asked why she stayed a full week once she understood what it had to do with, her reply came easily:.
” 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 very 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 pretty.”.
She shivered under the blast of air conditioning, shivering in her four-inch heels, but maybe it was something else. “Thank you.”.
” So, let’s get started? Don’t stress, I’ll walk you through it.”.
In the middle of the space stood what appeared like an ordinary massage table, upholstered in a cushioned black product, with a hole at one end. However this table (in addition to all the other ones here) had one strange distinction: a 2nd hole, right where one’s lower torso would line up.
” Grab some of the oil. Warm it between your hands. We’ll start with a back massage, nice and easy.”.
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 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 in between my legs, do not be shy.
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He stiffened to complete mast at the really 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 good at following instructions. When he tapped her wrist, she startled.
” I’m gon na have you do a body slide. Take off your bra … yes … oh, you look delicious. Simply slide all over me, there you go.
Her mind was blank. Annika moved and winced, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take over. She currently knew how to drive a guy crazy. 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 gorgeous …” He should have seen the search her face, because he included, “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 complete display.
” Oh, tasty,” he purred again. “It’s a gorgeous view, sweetie. Keep going.”.
Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel tasty; she had not wished to be. Rather, she felt ludicrous, awkward, even traitorous. A plaything for men with non reusable income under the very finely veiled guise of “masseuse”.
However mostly, she felt contrasted. Because she likewise recognized how much power she held. This was a location where customers paid for the privilege of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a complete stranger.
” That’s an excellent woman. 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 money in her hand. It was enough to persuade her to accept the next walk-in.
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