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She was 27 the day she accepted her first job in the world of personal services, but they told her she could and ought to pass for more youthful.

So, that week, she was 22 to anybody who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old enough to drink, likely a university graduate (suggesting some measure of intelligence and conversational ability), but still young, flexible, and preferable. Valuable to a large range of tastes.

In other words? Successful.

Selling yourself was legal here, to decrease it to basic 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 an item called Annika *, the name she offered to her new work persona.

This pseudonym didn’t only protect her on paper– it secured her sense of self. She might remove, dissociate, disappear. 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-lived, she told herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d accomplished and hoped to achieve thereafter.

On a cool September evening 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 rang. She pressed 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 left. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.

She did.

Later, when asked what she imagined finding there, she honestly had no response. She ‘d come in for a club promo and modelling position; she ‘d known in an instant that hallway didn’t lead to one.

Later on, when asked why she remained a complete week once she knew what it was about, her reply came easily:.

” For the money, naturally.”.

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

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

” You look nice,” 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 maybe it was something else. “Thank you.”.

” So, let’s get started? Do not stress, 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 product, with a hole at one end. But this table (together with all the other ones here) had one strange difference: a 2nd hole, right where one’s lower torso would line up.

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

He removed 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 might do this. She understood how to offer 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 in between my legs, don’t be shy.

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He stiffened to full mast at the very first brush of her fingertips.

” Oh, that’s perfect. I’m going to turn around now. You can massage my chest and keep playing 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. Remove your bra … yes … oh, you look yummy. Get on the table, that’s it, don’t be afraid. Put some oil on your chest. Just slide all over me, there you go. Oh, child, that’s so hot …”.

Annika slid and writhed, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take over. There was one thing left to find out.

” You can do the reverse slide. Remove your panties and climb back up here. Show me that lovely …” He needs to have seen the look on her face, due to the fact that he added, “Don’t fret, I won’t touch you there.”.

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

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

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

Primarily, she felt contrasted. Due to the fact that she likewise understood just how much power she held. This was a place where customers 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 took on 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 cash in her hand. It was enough to convince her to accept the next walk-in.