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She was 27 the day she accepted her first job in the realm of personal services, however they told her she might and must pass for younger.
That week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old adequate to drink, likely a university graduate (indicating some measure of intelligence and conversational capability), but still young, flexible, and desirable. Marketable to a wide range of tastes.
To put it simply? Successful.
Offering yourself was legal here, to minimize it to simple terms, although she didn’t understand that’s what she ‘d be doing the very first day she walked in. She didn’t know she ‘d end up being a product called Annika *, the name she offered to her new work personality.
This pseudonym didn’t just protect 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 range, praying each time she ‘d come out with her self-respect undamaged.
This was only short-lived, she informed herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and wished to achieve 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 pushed the door open to a long narrow corridor 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 on, when asked what she imagined finding there, she truthfully had no response. She ‘d come in for a club promotion and modelling position; she ‘d known in an instant that corridor didn’t lead to one.
Later, when asked why she stayed a full week once she knew what it had to do with, her reply came easily:.
” For the cash, of course.”.
Annika made over $7,500 in 8 days. And she didn’t even have 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 good,” he said, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your lingerie is really 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 get started? Don’t stress, I’ll walk you through it.”.
In the middle of the space stood what looked 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 difference: a 2nd hole, right where one’s lower upper body would line up.
” Grab some of the oil. Warm it between your hands. We’ll start 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 knew how to offer a back massage, no problem.
” Yeah, that’s great.” His voice came stifled from listed below after numerous 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 complete 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 having fun with me.”.
She complied with. She was good 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. Simply slide all over me, there you go.
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 up back up here. Program me that gorgeous …” He needs to have seen the search her face, because he added, “Don’t worry, I won’t touch you there.”.
Facing towards 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 stunning view, sweetie. Keep going.”.
She didn’t feel yummy; she hadn’t wanted to be. Rather, she felt ludicrous, self-conscious, even traitorous.
Mainly, she felt clashed. Since she also understood how much power she held. This was a place where clients paid for the opportunity of putting their most sensitive parts into the hands of a complete stranger, after all.
” That’s a good lady. Finish me off,” he gasped. Her hands took on a life of their own, moving much faster.
He gripped her thighs and launched with one final 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.
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