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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first job in the world of individual services, but they informed her she might and ought to pass for younger.
So, that week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old adequate to drink, likely a university graduate (showing some procedure of intelligence and conversational capability), however still young, flexible, and desirable. Marketable to a vast array of tastes.
To put it simply? Rewarding.
Selling yourself was legal here, to minimize it to simple terms, although she didn’t realize that’s what she ‘d be doing the very first day she strolled 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 protect her on paper– it secured her sense of self. She might detach, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she enjoyed from a safe range, hoping each time she ‘d come out with her dignity intact.
This was just short-term, she informed herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and wished to achieve thereafter.
On a cool September night in Melbourne, Australia, not-yet-Annika pressed 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 pushed the door open to a long narrow hallway 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 on, when asked what she envisioned finding there, she truthfully had no response. She ‘d come in for a club promotion and modelling position; she ‘d known in an immediate that corridor didn’t lead to one.
Later on, when asked why she remained a complete 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 anybody.
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Her very first customer, a white male in his 40s, provided some much-needed on-the-job training.
” You look great,” he said, 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 possibly it was something else. “Thank you.”.
” So, let’s get going? Don’t 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. However this table (in addition to all the other ones here) had one strange difference: a 2nd 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, nice and easy.”.
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 could do this. She knew how to offer a back massage, no problem.
” Yeah, that’s excellent.” His voice came muffled from listed below after several minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach in between my legs, don’t be shy. Gradually. Yes, just like that …”.
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He stiffened to complete mast at the extremely first brush of her fingertips.
” Oh, that’s best. I’m going to turn around now. You can massage my chest and keep playing with me.”.
She followed. She was good at following directions. When he tapped her wrist, she startled.
” I’m gon na have you do a body slide. Remove 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, child, that’s so hot …”.
Annika agonized and moved, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses take over. There was one thing left to discover.
” You can do the reverse slide. Remove your panties and climb up back up here. Show me that beautiful …” He needs to have seen the look on her face, because he added, “Don’t worry, I won’t 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 display.
” Oh, tasty,” he purred once again. “It’s a gorgeous view, sweetheart. Keep going.”.
Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel delicious; she had not wished to be. Rather, she felt absurd, awkward, even traitorous. A toy for guys with disposable income under the very finely veiled guise of “masseuse”.
But mostly, she felt contrasted. Because she also understood how much power she held. This was a location where customers paid for the benefit of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a stranger, after all.
” That’s a good lady. Complete me off,” he gasped. Her hands took on a life of their own, moving much faster.
He grasped 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 sufficed to encourage her to accept the next walk-in.
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