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She was 27 the day she accepted her first task in the realm of personal services, however they informed her she could and must pass for more youthful.

So, that week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old sufficient to drink, likely a university graduate (indicating some procedure of intelligence and conversational capability), however still young, supple, and desirable. Valuable to a wide variety of tastes.

To put it simply? Lucrative.

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

This pseudonym didn’t only protect her on paper– it secured her sense of self. She could remove, dissociate, disappear. Annika would do all the work while she watched from a safe range, hoping each time she had actually come out with her dignity intact.

This was only short-lived, she informed herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and wanted to accomplish afterwards.

On a cool September night 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 advertisement?”.

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 envisioned 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 corridor didn’t lead to one.

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

” For the money, of course.”.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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 knew how to provide a back massage, no problem.

” Yeah, that’s great.” His voice came muffled from listed below after a number of minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and go up to my ass. Reach in between my legs, do not be shy. Gradually. Yes, easily …”.

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He stiffened to full 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 complied with. She was good at following directions. She surprised when he tapped her wrist.

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

Annika slid and agonized, skin on skin, letting her primal impulses take over. There was one thing left to discover.

” You can do the reverse slide. Take off your panties and climb back up here. Show me that lovely …” He must have seen the search her face, due to the fact that he added, “Don’t stress, I won’t 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 display screen.

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

She didn’t feel yummy; she had not wanted to be. Rather, she felt ridiculous, self-conscious, even traitorous.

Primarily, she felt conflicted. Since she also recognized how much power she held. This was a place where customers paid for the opportunity of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a stranger, after all.

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

He gripped her thighs and launched 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 encourage her to accept the next walk-in.