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She was 27 the day she accepted her first task in the world of personal services, but they informed her she might and should pass for younger.

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

In other words? Successful.

Selling yourself was legal here, to lower it to basic terms, although she didn’t understand 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 offered to her new work personality.

This pseudonym didn’t only safeguard her on paper– it safeguarded her sense of self. She could separate, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she enjoyed from a safe distance, praying each time she ‘d come out with her self-respect undamaged.

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

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 advertisement?”.

The buzzer called. She pushed the door open 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 on, when asked what she thought of finding there, she honestly had no response. She ‘d come in for a club promotion and modelling position; she ‘d known in an immediate that corridor didn’t lead to one.

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

” For the money, obviously.”.

Annika made over $7,500 in eight 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 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, however possibly it was something else. “Thank you.”.

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

In the middle of the room stood what looked like a run-of-the-mill massage table, upholstered in a cushioned black product, with a hole at one end. However this table (along with all the other ones here) had one peculiar difference: 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 begin with a back massage, easy and nice.”.

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 great.” His voice came smothered from below after numerous minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach in between my legs, do not be shy. Gradually. Yes, just like that …”.

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

” Oh, that’s ideal. I’m going to turn around now. You can massage my chest and keep having fun with me.”.

She complied with. She was good at following directions. 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, do not hesitate. Put some oil on your chest. Simply slide all over me, there you go. Oh, baby, that’s so attractive …”.

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

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

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

” Oh, yummy,” 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 wished to be. Instead, she felt outrageous, self-conscious, even traitorous. A plaything for males with disposable earnings under the very finely veiled guise of “masseuse”.

Mainly, she felt clashed. Since she also understood just how much power she held. This was a location where consumers spent for the benefit 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 money in her hand. It sufficed to persuade her to accept the next walk-in.