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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first job in the realm of personal services, however they informed her she might and should 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 (showing some step of intelligence and conversational ability), but still young, supple, and preferable. Marketable to a wide range of tastes.

In other words? Rewarding.

Offering yourself was legal here, to reduce it to simple terms, although she didn’t realize that’s what she ‘d be doing the first day she walked in. She didn’t understand she ‘d end up being a product called Annika *, the name she gave to her new work personality.

This pseudonym didn’t only protect her on paper– it protected her sense of self. She could detach, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she watched from a safe range, hoping each time she had actually come out with her self-respect undamaged.

This was just temporary, she told herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and wished to accomplish thereafter.

On a cool September night 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 ad?”.

The buzzer rang. 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 left. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.

She did.

Later, 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 understood in an instant that hallway didn’t cause one.

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

” For the money, obviously.”.

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

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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 said, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your lingerie is actually quite.”.

She shivered under the blast of air conditioning, shivering in her four-inch heels, however maybe it was something else. “Thank you.”.

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

In the middle of the space stood what looked like an ordinary massage table, upholstered in a cushioned black product, with a hole at one end. This table (along with all the other ones here) had one peculiar distinction: a 2nd hole, right where one’s lower upper body would line up.

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

He removed his clothing, all of it, and laid face down on the table.

Annika positioned 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.

” Yeah, that’s great.” His voice came smothered from below after numerous minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach in between my legs, don’t be shy. Slowly. Yes, easily …”.

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He stiffened to full mast at the really first brush of her fingertips.

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

She followed. She was good at following instructions. She surprised when he tapped her wrist.

” I’m gon na have you do a body slide. Remove your bra … yes … oh, you look yummy. Get on the table, that’s it, do not be afraid. Put some oil on your chest. Just slide all over me, there you go. Oh, baby, that’s so sexy …”.

Her mind was blank. Annika slid and twisted, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses take over. She currently understood how to drive a guy insane. However there was something delegated 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, since he included, “Don’t stress, I will not touch you there.”.

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

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

She didn’t feel yummy; she hadn’t desired to be. Instead, she felt ridiculous, self-conscious, even traitorous.

Mainly, she felt contrasted. Since she also understood just how much power she held. This was a place where customers spent for the benefit of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a complete stranger, after all.

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

He grasped her thighs and released with one final sigh. And it was over.

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