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She was 27 the day she accepted her first job in the realm of individual services, but they informed her she could and should pass for younger.

That week, she was 22 to anyone who asked. It was the ideal age, you see: old enough to drink, likely a university graduate (indicating some step of intelligence and conversational capability), but still young, supple, and preferable. Valuable to a large range of tastes.

Simply put? Lucrative.

Selling yourself was legal here, to lower it to basic terms, although she didn’t understand that’s what she ‘d be doing the very first day she walked in. She didn’t understand she ‘d become an item called Annika *, the name she gave to her new work personality.

This pseudonym didn’t only safeguard her on paper– it secured her sense of self. She might detach, dissociate, disappear. Annika would do all the work while she enjoyed from a safe distance, praying each time she ‘d come out with her self-respect intact.

This was only momentary, she informed herself. This didn’t define 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 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 rang. She pushed the door open up to a long narrow hallway lit with strips of multicolour LED lights; floor-to-ceiling mirrors lined the best wall, closed doors lined the left. “Come down to the end,” called the voice.

She did.

Later, when asked what she imagined discovering there, she truthfully had no response. She ‘d come in for a club promo and modelling position; she ‘d understood in an instant that corridor didn’t result in one.

Later on, when asked why she remained a full 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 need to fuck anyone.

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

” You look great,” he stated, deep blue eyes drinking in her exposed body. “Your underwear is actually quite.”.

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

” So, let’s get going? Do not fret, 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. However this table (in addition to all the other ones here) had one peculiar distinction: a 2nd 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 nice.”.

He eliminated 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 could do this. She knew how to provide a back massage, no problem.

His voice came smothered from below after several minutes. Massage my legs and move up to my ass. Reach between my legs, do not 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 turn around now. You can massage my chest and keep playing with me.”.

She followed. 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 tasty. Simply slide all over me, there you go.

Her mind was blank. Annika winced and moved, skin on skin, letting her primal instincts take control of. She already knew how to drive a man insane. However there was one thing delegated find out.

” You can do the reverse slide. Take off your panties and climb back up here. Program me that stunning …” He should have seen the look on her face, since he added, “Don’t fret, I won’t touch you there.”.

Dealing with towards his feet she straddled him and leaned forward so, her back arched ever so a little, her intimate parts on complete display screen.

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

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

However primarily, she felt clashed. Because she also realized how much power she held. This was a location where customers paid for the benefit of putting their most delicate parts into the hands of a stranger.

” That’s a great lady. Finish me off,” he gasped. Her hands took on a life of their own, moving much 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 money in her hand. It sufficed to encourage her to accept the next walk-in.