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She was 27 the day she accepted her very first task in the realm of individual services, but they told her she could and need to pass for younger.

That week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old sufficient to consume, likely a university graduate (indicating some measure of intelligence and conversational capability), but still young, flexible, and preferable. Marketable to a large range of tastes.

Simply put? Rewarding.

Selling yourself was legal here, to reduce it to basic terms, although she didn’t realize that’s what she ‘d be doing the very first day she strolled 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 protect her on paper– it secured her sense of self. She might remove, dissociate, disappear. Annika would do all the work while she viewed from a safe distance, hoping each time she ‘d come out with her dignity intact.

This was only short-lived, she told herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and intended to achieve thereafter.

On a cool September night 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 ad?”.

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 best wall, closed doors lined the. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.

She did.

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

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

” For the money, of course.”.

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

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Her very first customer, 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 underwear is really quite.”.

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

” So, let’s get started? Do not fret, I’ll stroll you through it.”.

In the middle of the space stood what looked like an ordinary massage table, upholstered in a cushioned black material, with a hole at one end. This table (along with all the other ones here) had one peculiar distinction: a 2nd hole, right where one’s lower upper body would line up.

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

He eliminated his clothes, all of it, and laid face down on the table.

Annika positioned her hands gingerly on his shoulders and took a deep breath. She could do this. She understood how to give a back massage, no problem.

” Yeah, that’s good.” His voice came muffled from below after a number of minutes. “Now tease me. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach in between my legs, do not be shy. Gradually. Yes, easily …”.

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He stiffened to full mast at the extremely 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 obeyed. She was proficient at following directions. She startled when he tapped her wrist.

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

Her mind was blank. Annika moved and twisted, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take control of. She currently knew how to drive a male crazy. There was one thing left to discover.

” You can do the reverse slide. Take off your panties and climb up back up here. Show me that lovely …” He needs to have seen the search her face, due to the fact that he included, “Don’t fret, I will not touch you there.”.

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

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

She didn’t feel yummy; she hadn’t wanted to be. Rather, she felt ridiculous, uneasy, even traitorous.

Primarily, she felt clashed. Since she also understood just how much power she held. This was a location where consumers paid for the benefit of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a complete stranger.

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

He gripped her thighs and released with one last sigh. And it was over.

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