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

So, that week, she was 22 to anybody who asked. It was the perfect age, you see: old sufficient to consume, likely a university graduate (indicating some measure of intelligence and conversational ability), but still young, supple, and desirable. Marketable to a wide variety of tastes.

Simply put? Profitable.

Selling yourself was legal here, to lower it to basic terms, although she didn’t recognize that’s what she ‘d be doing the first day she strolled in. She didn’t understand she ‘d end up being a product named Annika *, the name she provided to her brand-new work persona.

This pseudonym didn’t just protect her on paper– it safeguarded her sense of self. She could detach, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she saw from a safe range, hoping each time she had actually come out with her self-respect undamaged.

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

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 pushed the door open to a long narrow hallway lit with strips of multicolour LED lights; floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined the right wall, closed doors lined the. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.

She did.

Later, when asked what she pictured finding there, she honestly had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promotion and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an instant that corridor didn’t cause one.

Later on, when asked why she stayed a full week once she understood 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 anybody.

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

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

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

” So, let’s begin? Do not stress, I’ll walk you through it.”.

In the middle of the space stood what appeared like a run-of-the-mill 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 peculiar difference: a second hole, right where one’s lower upper body would line up.

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

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 might do this. She understood how to give a back massage, no problem.

His voice came muffled from listed below after a number of 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 complete mast at the very first brush of her fingertips.

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

She obeyed. She was proficient at following instructions. When he tapped her wrist, she shocked.

” I’m gon na have you do a body slide. Take off your bra … yes … oh, you look yummy. Get on the table, that’s it, do not hesitate. Put some oil on your chest. Just move all over me, there you go. Oh, infant, that’s so hot …”.

Her mind was blank. Annika moved and agonized, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take control of. She already knew how to drive a man crazy. There was one thing left to find out.

” You can do the reverse slide. Take off your panties and climb up back up here. Program me that stunning …” He needs to have seen the search her face, because he included, “Don’t fret, I won’t 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, delicious,” he purred again. “It’s a beautiful view, sweetie. Keep going.”.

Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel tasty; she had not wanted to be. Rather, she felt ludicrous, uncomfortable, even traitorous. A plaything for males with non reusable income under the thinly veiled guise of “masseuse”.

But mostly, she felt conflicted. Because she likewise understood how much power she held. This was a place where customers paid for the privilege of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a complete stranger, after all.

” That’s a good woman. Complete me off,” he gasped. Her hands handled a life of their own, moving faster.

He grasped her thighs and released with one final sigh. And it was over.

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