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

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

Simply put? Profitable.

Offering yourself was legal here, to lower it to easy terms, although she didn’t understand that’s what she ‘d be doing the first day she walked in. She didn’t know she ‘d end up being a product called Annika *, the name she provided to her new work persona.

This pseudonym didn’t only safeguard her on paper– it secured her sense of self. She might separate, dissociate, vanish. Annika would do all the work while she viewed from a safe range, praying each time she had actually brought out her dignity undamaged.

This was only short-lived, she told herself. This didn’t specify her, didn’t negate all she ‘d achieved and hoped 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 advertisement?”.

The buzzer sounded. She pushed the door open up to a long narrow corridor 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, when asked what she envisioned discovering there, she truthfully had no answer. She ‘d come in for a club promotion and modelling position; she ‘d known in an immediate that corridor didn’t lead to one.

Later on, when asked why she remained a complete week once she understood what it had to do with, her reply came easily:.

” For the money, obviously.”.

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

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

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

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

” So, let’s get going? Don’t fret, 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 torso would line up.

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

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

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

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

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

She followed. She was good at following instructions. When he tapped her wrist, she startled.

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

Annika moved and agonized, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take over. There was one thing left to learn.

” You can do the reverse slide. Take off your panties and climb back up here. Program me that beautiful …” He must have seen the search her face, because he added, “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 somewhat, her intimate parts on complete display screen.

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

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

Mostly, she felt contrasted. Due to the fact that she also recognized how much power she held. This was a place where consumers paid for the benefit of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a complete stranger.

” 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 released with one last sigh. And it was over.

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