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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first job in the world of personal services, however they told her she might and should pass for younger.

That week, she was 22 to anybody who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old enough to consume, likely a university graduate (indicating some measure of intelligence and conversational capability), but still young, supple, and desirable. Marketable to a wide variety of tastes.

Simply put? Lucrative.

Selling yourself was legal here, to decrease 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 gave to her new work personality.

This pseudonym didn’t only safeguard her on paper– it protected her sense of self. She might remove, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she enjoyed from a safe distance, praying each time she ‘d brought out her dignity undamaged.

This was only short-term, she told herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and intended to achieve 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 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 on, when asked what she pictured 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 result in one.

Later on, when asked why she remained a full week once she understood what it was about, her reply came quickly:.

” For the cash, obviously.”.

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

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

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

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 going? Do not worry, I’ll walk you through it.”.

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

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

He removed 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 understood how to provide 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, do not be shy.

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

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

She obeyed. She was good at following directions. When he tapped her wrist, she surprised.

” I’m gon na have you do a body slide. Take off your bra … yes … oh, you look delicious. Simply move all over me, there you go.

Her mind was blank. Annika twisted and moved, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take over. She already understood how to drive a guy insane. But there was one thing left to learn.

” You can do the reverse slide. Remove your panties and climb back up here. Show me that lovely …” He must have seen the look on her face, because he added, “Don’t worry, I will not touch you there.”.

Dealing with toward his feet she straddled him and leaned forward so, her back arched ever so a little, her intimate parts on full screen.

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

She didn’t feel tasty; she hadn’t wanted to be. Rather, she felt ridiculous, awkward, even traitorous.

However mainly, she felt contrasted. Because she likewise realized just how much power she held. This was a place where customers paid for the privilege of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a complete stranger, after all.

” That’s an excellent woman. Complete me off,” he gasped. Her hands handled a life of their own, moving 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 cash in her hand. It was enough to convince her to accept the next walk-in.