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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first job in the world of individual services, but they told her she could and ought to pass for younger.

So, that week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the perfect age, you see: old adequate to consume, likely a university graduate (suggesting some measure of intelligence and conversational capability), but still young, supple, and preferable. Valuable to a wide range of tastes.

In other words? Lucrative.

Selling yourself was legal here, to minimize it to easy terms, although she didn’t recognize that’s what she ‘d be doing the first day she strolled in. She didn’t know she ‘d become a product called Annika *, the name she offered to her brand-new work personality.

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

This was only temporary, she informed herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and hoped to achieve thereafter.

On a cool September evening 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 up to a long narrow hallway 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 finding there, she honestly had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promo and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an immediate that corridor didn’t lead to one.

Later, when asked why she stayed a full week once she knew what it had to do with, her reply came easily:.

” For the cash, naturally.”.

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

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

” You look nice,” he said, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your lingerie is truly quite.”.

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

” So, let’s get going? Do not stress, 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 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 start with a back massage, great and easy.”.

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

Annika placed her hands gingerly on his shoulders and took a deep breath. She could do this. She understood how to offer 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, don’t be shy.

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

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

She complied with. She was proficient at following directions. She stunned when he tapped her wrist.

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

Annika winced 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. Show me that lovely …” He should have seen the search her face, because he added, “Don’t worry, I will not touch you there.”.

Facing toward his feet she straddled him and leaned forward just so, her back arched ever so slightly, her intimate parts on complete display screen.

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

She didn’t feel yummy; she hadn’t wanted to be. Instead, she felt ludicrous, awkward, even traitorous.

However mostly, she felt conflicted. Due to the fact that she likewise recognized how much power she held. This was a place where consumers paid for the benefit of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a complete stranger, after all.

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

He gripped her thighs and launched with one final sigh. And it was over.

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