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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first task in the realm of individual services, but they told her she might and ought to pass for more youthful.
That week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old enough to drink, likely a university graduate (showing some measure of intelligence and conversational capability), however still young, flexible, and preferable. Marketable to a wide range of tastes.
To put it simply? Lucrative.
Offering yourself was legal here, to lower it to easy terms, although she didn’t recognize that’s what she ‘d be doing the very first day she walked in. She didn’t know she ‘d become a product called Annika *, the name she provided to her brand-new work personality.
This pseudonym didn’t just safeguard her on paper– it secured her sense of self. She could separate, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she saw from a safe distance, praying each time she had actually come out with her dignity undamaged.
This was only momentary, she told herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and intended to accomplish 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 rang. 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 left. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.
She did.
Later on, when asked what she thought of finding there, she truthfully had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promotion and modelling position; she ‘d known in an instant that hallway didn’t cause one.
Later on, when asked why she stayed a complete week once she knew what it was about, her reply came easily:.
” For the cash, obviously.”.
Annika made over $7,500 in eight days. And she didn’t even have to fuck anybody.
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Her first customer, a white male in his 40s, provided some much-needed on-the-job training.
” You look great,” he stated, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your underwear is really 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 start? Don’t worry, 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 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 some of the oil. Warm it between your hands. We’ll begin with a back massage, simple and good.”.
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 could do this. She understood how to give 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 complete mast at the really first brush of her fingertips.
” Oh, that’s ideal. I’m going to reverse 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 stunned.
” 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.
Annika squirmed and moved, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take over. There was one thing left to discover.
” You can do the reverse slide. Remove your panties and climb up back up here. Program me that gorgeous …” He must have seen the search her face, due to the fact that he included, “Don’t stress, I won’t 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, delicious,” he purred again. “It’s a stunning view, sweetie. Keep going.”.
She didn’t feel delicious; she hadn’t desired to be. Instead, she felt ludicrous, awkward, even traitorous.
Mainly, she felt contrasted. Because she likewise recognized just how much power she held. This was a place where consumers paid for the opportunity of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a complete stranger, after all.
” That’s a great lady. Finish 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 cash in her hand. It was enough to persuade her to accept the next walk-in.
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