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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first task in the realm of individual services, but they informed her she could and should pass for more youthful.

That week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old enough to consume, likely a university graduate (showing some measure of intelligence and conversational capability), however still young, flexible, and preferable. Valuable to a wide range of tastes.

In other words? Profitable.

Selling yourself was legal here, to lower it to easy terms, although she didn’t realize that’s what she ‘d be doing the very first day she strolled in. She didn’t know she ‘d end up being a product named Annika *, the name she offered to her new work persona.

This pseudonym didn’t only protect her on paper– it protected her sense of self. She might detach, dissociate, disappear. Annika would do all the work while she viewed from a safe distance, praying each time she had actually brought out her dignity undamaged.

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

On a cool September night 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 advertisement?”.

The buzzer called. She pressed the door available to a long narrow corridor 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 imagined discovering 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, when asked why she stayed a full week once she understood what it was about, her reply came easily:.

” For the money, of course.”.

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

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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 said, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your lingerie is actually quite.”.

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

” So, let’s begin? Don’t worry, 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 material, with a hole at one end. However 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, easy and good.”.

He eliminated his clothing, 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 knew how to give a back massage, no problem.

” Yeah, that’s good.” His voice came smothered from below after a number of minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach between my legs, do not be shy. Slowly. Yes, easily …”.

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He stiffened to complete mast at the extremely 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. 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 delicious. Simply slide all over me, there you go.

Her mind was blank. Annika slid and writhed, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses take over. She already knew how to drive a guy crazy. But there was one thing delegated 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, due to the fact that he included, “Don’t worry, I won’t touch you there.”.

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

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

She didn’t feel tasty; she had not desired to be. Rather, she felt ridiculous, uncomfortable, even traitorous.

However mostly, she felt clashed. Due to the fact that she also understood how much power she held. This was a location where consumers paid for the privilege of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a complete stranger, after all.

” That’s a great girl. Finish me off,” he gasped. Her hands took on a life of their own, moving much faster.

He grasped her thighs and launched with one last sigh. And it was over.

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