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

That week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old adequate to consume, likely a university graduate (indicating some procedure of intelligence and conversational capability), however still young, supple, and desirable. Valuable to a large range of tastes.

In other words? Profitable.

Offering yourself was legal here, to lower 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 know she ‘d end up being an item named Annika *, the name she gave to her brand-new work personality.

This pseudonym didn’t just secure her on paper– it secured her sense of self. She might detach, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she enjoyed from a safe range, hoping each time she had actually brought out her self-respect undamaged.

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

On a cool September evening 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 open up 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, when asked what she pictured discovering there, she truthfully had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promotion and modelling position; she ‘d known in an instant that hallway didn’t lead to one.

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

” For the cash, obviously.”.

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

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Her first client, a white male in his 40s, offered some much-needed on-the-job training.

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

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

” So, let’s get started? Don’t worry, 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 product, with a hole at one end. This table (along with all the other ones here) had one strange distinction: a second hole, right where one’s lower upper body would line up.

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

He removed 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 could do this. She knew how to give a back massage, no problem.

His voice came smothered from below after several minutes. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach between my legs, don’t be shy.

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He stiffened to full mast at the really 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 followed. She was good at following directions. When he tapped her wrist, she startled.

” 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 hesitate. Put some oil on your chest. Just move all over me, there you go. Oh, infant, that’s so hot …”.

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

” 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, because he included, “Don’t worry, I won’t touch you there.”.

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

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

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

Primarily, she felt conflicted. Because she also realized how much power she held. This was a location where customers paid for the advantage of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a complete stranger.

” That’s a good lady. Finish me off,” he gasped. Her hands handled 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 encourage her to accept the next walk-in.