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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first job in the realm of individual services, however they told her she might and should pass for more youthful.

That week, she was 22 to anybody who asked. It was the perfect age, you see: old sufficient to consume, likely a university graduate (indicating some procedure of intelligence and conversational capability), but still young, supple, and preferable. Marketable to a large range of tastes.

Simply put? Lucrative.

Offering yourself was legal here, to minimize it to simple terms, although she didn’t recognize that’s what she ‘d be doing the first day she walked in. She didn’t know she ‘d end up being an item called Annika *, the name she provided to her brand-new work persona.

This pseudonym didn’t just protect her on paper– it protected her sense of self. She could remove, dissociate, disappear. Annika would do all the work while she watched from a safe range, praying each time she ‘d brought out her dignity undamaged.

This was only short-lived, she informed herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and hoped to achieve thereafter.

On a cool September evening in Melbourne, Australia, not-yet-Annika pushed 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 called. She pressed 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, 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 known in an instant that corridor didn’t result in one.

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

” For the money, of course.”.

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

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

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

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

” So, let’s begin? Don’t worry, I’ll stroll you through it.”.

In the middle of the room stood what appeared like a run-of-the-mill massage table, upholstered in a cushioned black product, with a hole at one end. However this table (together with all the other ones here) had one peculiar distinction: a 2nd hole, right where one’s lower torso would line up.

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

He removed his clothes, 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 stifled from below after numerous minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and go up to my ass. Reach between my legs, don’t be shy. Gradually. Yes, just like that …”.

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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 reverse now. You can massage my chest and keep having fun with me.”.

She followed. She was proficient at following directions. When he tapped her wrist, she stunned.

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

Her mind was blank. Annika slid and winced, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses take over. She already knew how to drive a male crazy. There was one thing left to learn.

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

Facing towards his feet she straddled him and leaned forward so, her back arched ever so somewhat, her intimate parts on full screen.

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

Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel delicious; she hadn’t wanted to be. Instead, she felt absurd, uncomfortable, even traitorous. A toy for guys with non reusable income under the very finely veiled guise of “masseuse”.

Mostly, she felt conflicted. Due to the fact that she also recognized how much power she held. This was a place where consumers paid for the advantage of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a complete stranger.

” That’s a great lady. Complete me off,” he gasped. Her hands handled a life of their own, moving quicker.

He gripped her thighs and released 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 convince her to accept the next walk-in.