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She was 27 the day she accepted her first task in the realm of individual services, however they informed her she might and need to pass for younger.

That week, she was 22 to anybody who asked. It was the perfect age, you see: old adequate to drink, likely a university graduate (showing some measure of intelligence and conversational capability), however still young, supple, and preferable. Valuable to a vast array of tastes.

To put it simply? Lucrative.

Selling yourself was legal here, to decrease it to easy terms, although she didn’t realize that’s what she ‘d be doing the first day she strolled in. She didn’t understand she ‘d become a product named Annika *, the name she provided to her new work personality.

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

This was only short-term, she informed herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and intended 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 corridor 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 imagined finding there, she truthfully had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promo and modelling position; she ‘d known in an immediate that hallway didn’t lead to one.

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

” For the money, naturally.”.

Annika made over $7,500 in eight days. And she didn’t even have 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 good,” he said, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your underwear is actually pretty.”.

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

” So, let’s begin? Do not stress, I’ll stroll 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. This table (along with all the other ones here) had one strange difference: a second hole, right where one’s lower upper body would line up.

” Grab some of the oil. Warm it in between your hands. We’ll begin with a back massage, nice 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 might do this. She understood how to give a back massage, no problem.

His voice came smothered from listed below after numerous minutes. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach 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 perfect. I’m going to reverse now. You can massage my chest and keep playing with me.”.

She followed. She was proficient at following instructions. When he tapped her wrist, she shocked.

” 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, child, that’s so attractive …”.

Her mind was blank. Annika twisted and slid, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses take over. She currently knew how to drive a man crazy. There was one thing left to discover.

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

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

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

Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel tasty; she had not wanted to be. Instead, she felt ridiculous, self-conscious, even traitorous. A toy for males with non reusable earnings under the very finely veiled guise of “masseuse”.

Mainly, she felt contrasted. Because she likewise recognized just how much power she held. This was a location where customers paid for the opportunity of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a stranger, after all.

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

He grasped her thighs and released with one final sigh. And it was over.

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