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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first task in the world of personal services, however they informed her she might and must pass for more youthful.

So, that week, she was 22 to anybody who asked. It was the perfect age, you see: old adequate to consume, likely a university graduate (suggesting some procedure of intelligence and conversational ability), however still young, supple, and preferable. Marketable to a vast array of tastes.

In other words? Successful.

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

This pseudonym didn’t only protect her on paper– it safeguarded her sense of self. She could detach, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she watched from a safe range, hoping each time she ‘d come out with her dignity intact.

This was only temporary, she informed herself. This didn’t define her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and intended to accomplish 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 sounded. She pressed the door available to a long narrow hallway 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 envisioned finding there, she truthfully had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promo and modelling position; she ‘d known in an immediate that corridor didn’t result in one.

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

” For the cash, naturally.”.

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

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Her very first consumer, 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 truly pretty.”.

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

” So, let’s get going? Don’t worry, I’ll stroll 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. This table (along with all the other ones here) had one strange 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, good and easy.”.

He removed his clothing, all of it, and laid face down on the table.

Annika put 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 good.” His voice came stifled from below after a number of minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and go up to my ass. Reach between my legs, don’t be shy. Slowly. Yes, just like that …”.

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He stiffened to complete mast at the extremely first brush of her fingertips.

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

She obeyed. She was proficient at following directions. She stunned when he tapped her wrist.

” I’m gon na have you do a body slide. Take off your bra … yes … oh, you look tasty. Simply slide all over me, there you go.

Annika slid and squirmed, 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. Program me that gorgeous …” He should have seen the search her face, because he added, “Don’t stress, I won’t touch you there.”.

Facing towards his feet she straddled him and leaned forward so, her back arched ever so somewhat, her intimate parts on complete screen.

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

Yummy? Was that what she was? She didn’t feel delicious; she had not wanted to be. Rather, she felt ludicrous, self-conscious, even traitorous. A toy for guys with disposable income under the thinly veiled guise of “masseuse”.

Mostly, she felt conflicted. Due to the fact that she likewise realized how much power she held. This was a place where customers paid for the advantage of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a stranger, after all.

” That’s a great girl. Complete me off,” he gasped. Her hands handled a life of their own, moving quicker.

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 sufficed to encourage her to accept the next walk-in.