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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first task in the world of personal services, however they informed her she might and ought to pass for more youthful.
That week, she was 22 to anybody who asked. It was the perfect age, you see: old sufficient to drink, likely a university graduate (showing some measure of intelligence and conversational ability), but still young, flexible, and desirable. Marketable to a vast array of tastes.
To put it simply? Profitable.
Offering yourself was legal here, to minimize it to basic terms, although she didn’t understand that’s what she ‘d be doing the very first day she strolled in. She didn’t understand she ‘d end up being an item called Annika *, the name she provided to her new work persona.
This pseudonym didn’t only secure her on paper– it protected her sense of self. She might remove, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she saw from a safe range, praying each time she ‘d come out with her dignity intact.
This was just short-term, she told herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and hoped to achieve afterwards.
On a cool September evening 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 sounded. She pushed the door available 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 thought of finding there, she honestly had no response. She ‘d come in for a club promo and modelling position; she ‘d known in an immediate that hallway didn’t cause one.
Later, when asked why she remained a full week once she knew what it was about, her reply came quickly:.
” For the money, naturally.”.
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, supplied some much-needed on-the-job training.
” You look great,” he said, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your underwear is actually quite.”.
She shivered under the blast of cooling, trembling in her four-inch heels, but maybe it was something else. “Thank you.”.
” So, let’s start? Do not worry, I’ll stroll you through it.”.
In the middle of the space stood what looked like a run-of-the-mill massage table, upholstered in a cushioned black material, with a hole at one end. But this table (together with all the other ones here) had one peculiar distinction: a second hole, right where one’s lower upper body would line up.
” Grab a few of the oil. Warm it in between your hands. We’ll start with a back massage, easy and great.”.
He eliminated 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 understood how to provide a back massage, no problem.
” Yeah, that’s great.” His voice came smothered 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. Slowly. Yes, just like that …”.
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He stiffened to full mast at the really first brush of her fingertips.
” Oh, that’s perfect. I’m going to turn around now. You can massage my chest and keep playing with me.”.
She obeyed. She was proficient at following directions. She stunned when he tapped her wrist.
” 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, don’t hesitate. Put some oil on your chest. Simply move all over me, there you go. Oh, infant, that’s so hot …”.
Her mind was blank. Annika winced and moved, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take over. She currently understood how to drive a man insane. 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 stunning …” He must have seen the look on her face, since he added, “Don’t fret, I will not touch you there.”.
Facing toward his feet she straddled him and leaned forward so, her back arched ever so a little, her intimate parts on complete screen.
” Oh, delicious,” he purred again. “It’s a beautiful view, sweetheart. Keep going.”.
She didn’t feel delicious; she hadn’t wanted to be. Instead, she felt outrageous, self-conscious, even traitorous.
Mainly, she felt conflicted. Because she also recognized how much power she held. This was a location where clients paid for the privilege of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a stranger.
” That’s a great girl. Finish me off,” he gasped. Her hands took on a life of their own, moving faster.
He gripped 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 convince her to accept the next walk-in.
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