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She was 27 the day she accepted her first job in the world of personal services, but they informed her she might and need to pass for younger.

That week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the perfect age, you see: old adequate to drink, likely a university graduate (suggesting some step of intelligence and conversational capability), but still young, flexible, and desirable. Marketable to a wide variety of tastes.

Simply put? Rewarding.

Offering yourself was legal here, to minimize it to basic 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 end up being a product called Annika *, the name she provided to her brand-new work personality.

This pseudonym didn’t only protect her on paper– it safeguarded her sense of self. She might separate, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she watched from a safe range, praying each time she ‘d brought out her self-respect intact.

This was just short-term, she told herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and wished to achieve afterwards.

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 called. 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. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.

She did.

Later, when asked what she imagined discovering there, she truthfully had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promotion and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an instant that corridor didn’t lead to one.

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

” For the money, obviously.”.

Annika made over $7,500 in 8 days. And she didn’t even have to fuck anyone.

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Her very first client, 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, trembling in her four-inch heels, however possibly it was something else. “Thank you.”.

” So, let’s get started? Do not fret, I’ll walk you through it.”.

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

” Grab a few of the oil. Warm it between your hands. We’ll start with a back massage, good and easy.”.

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 knew how to offer a back massage, no problem.

His voice came stifled from listed below after a number of 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 complete mast at the really first brush of her fingertips.

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

She obeyed. She was good at following instructions. She startled when he tapped her wrist.

” I’m gon na have you do a body slide. Remove your bra … yes … oh, you look tasty. Get on the table, that’s it, do not be afraid. 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 twisted and moved, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses take over. She already understood how to drive a man insane. However there was one thing left to learn.

” You can do the reverse slide. Take off your panties and climb back up here. Program me that beautiful …” He must have seen the search her face, since he added, “Don’t fret, I will not touch you there.”.

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

” Oh, delicious,” he purred again. “It’s a stunning view, sweetie. Keep going.”.

Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel yummy; she hadn’t wished to be. Instead, she felt absurd, self-conscious, even traitorous. A plaything for males with disposable income under the very finely veiled guise of “masseuse”.

However mostly, she felt conflicted. Because she also realized just how much power she held. This was a location where consumers paid for the advantage of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a stranger, after all.

” That’s an excellent woman. Complete me off,” he gasped. Her hands handled a life of their own, moving faster.

He gripped her thighs and released with one last 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.